It's day 5 of the cleanse and it may as well be day 25. It feels never-ending and I am thinking of changing the name to the "Lifeless Body, Demented Mind & Spiritless" cleanse. It's awful. What was I thinking?
Every fiber of my being wants to call it quits. The battle in my head is a fascinating conversation of darkness versus lightness.
"Just throw in the towel. Nobody will know."
"Tiffany, I will cut you if you drop out now. That's what you ALWAYS do. You surrender when the going gets tough. You owe it to yourself to keep your promises."
"Fuck your promises. Life is too short and you're not getting any younger. Eat the damn sugar, throw back some coffee and get back to life as you know it."
"Bitch, shut the fuck up! Life as you know it is over. You've destroyed your body long enough, you're always whining about being fat and feeling sick, and what's served you in the past no longer serves you now. Stay focused!"
"This time won't be any different. You're wasting your time."
"You're right. If I give up, this time won't be any different. Stay the course and make a lasting change. You'll thank me later."
I'm choosing to plow forward as ugly as it may be and trust me, it's "U-G-L-Y, I ain't got no alibi, UGLY."
A major part of what makes this process so horrid is the fact that, other than on day 1 when I realized I have a social media addiction, no other "a-ha's" have shown up. No break-throughs. No anything. Break-downs and tantrums? Yes, but that's about it.
For instance, part of the cleanse is doing Kundalini Yoga 3x a week. I've done 2 so far and I want to stab myself in the face. It's a grisly experience and the claim that it'll help me connect with a Higher Power is fucking bullshit! If anything, it's kept me disconnected. One session was sitting cross-legged, keeping my back in alignment, shoulder blades down, and waving my arms in and out for 11 minutes. ELEVEN MINUTES of sitting there flailing around like a bird with a clipped wing. When I was done I could barely turn my neck or lift my arms and I was more pissed off then when I started. Pam suggested my neck hurt because I was doing it wrong. "Ya fucking THINK!?" And if that dumb Yogi bitch tells me one more time to keep up, I swear to sweet Jesus that I am going to choke her out with her little habit towel thing that she has wrapped around her head.
The other session went a little something like this:
“Now, I want you to take a deep inhale through your nose, think about what it is that you’re willing to let go of right here and now, and then exhale slowly and with purpose, letting it all go.”
“This fucking pose. That’s something I am willing to let go of. What bullshit. Fucking breathe AND let go? Pick one, asshole!”
“Great job. Next we are going to move into Sarvangasana and we are just going to stretch those legs and point your toes upward towards the ceiling. Let's hold it here for 3 minutes."
“Damn, does my belly button really smell like that? I'll be passed out in 3 minutes.”
It's just dreadful. The powers-that-be call it a "spiritual practice." I call foul on the play.
All of it. Depressing and grisly. I shit green about 4 times a day, my farts are like that of a rabid animal, I have next to no energy to walk upstairs let alone workout, and even my dogs don't want to be around me.
Miserable, party of 1, your table is now ready. Ding.