I am not good at being weak. Not good at being helped. Not good at being flawed.
Asthma has me. Has my whole life. An attack started on my birthday and lingered all day yesterday. I had a super, special yoga class to go to. I was excited about it and paid the big bucks to attend. My breathing was still thready when I got to class I told the teacher I may have to stop or leave the class at any time.
Two hours into the class I started having problems. I stopped. The teacher kept giving me modifications, which I did. It just got worse. I told the teacher I was leaving. She gave me more modifications. I said I was leaving and I did. This story may not seem so amazing but it is.
A year ago, maybe even a few months ago. I would have stayed. Would have done the modifications. Would have spent the next five days recovering, but that would have been okay because I lived up to my yoga responsibilities :). I would have looked good.
In my forties, I seem to be okay being flawed. Which is great. A better breather? That would be fabulous.