Why is slowing down so damn hard?

This week was the first week of a new session in my dance school, Antara Asthaayi Dance. We are still a relatively new school - we started classes in Mountain View in 2019. The usage of the first-person plural 'we' is something I am still getting used to. For the longest time, I felt such imposter syndrome when I'd be writing the marketing/promotion materials for AAD with  the word 'we.' There was no 'we.' It was just me, myself, I, doing this all. Happily, there are now three of us who are on the team at AAD. 

Starting a new class takes a lot of energy. The kids are ages 6-8, and unlike past classes, some of these children have barely attended kindergarten, thanks to the pandemic. Add to that, we're all wearing our masks and 80% of the energy I'm giving to the children is lost. I left the first class unsure - was that a good class? I had no gauge. 

I'm barely two weeks out from having thrown out my hip & lower back. I've taken efforts to get all the help I can - friends & family are cooking meals for me, my colleague is driving me to work, another is helping me teach the classes by physically standing in and doing the dancing for me. I am able to warm up the food for us, and do an occasional load of the dishwasher. But after teaching two hours in the evening, reaching home, getting dinner served on the table -- my body is broken like it has never felt before. I seriously can feel all my muscles on the brink of collapsing any minute now. And yet, I push just a little more - going to the toilet, filling my water bottle for my bedside, plugging in my heated blanket ... until my body collapses on the bed, wishing not to have to move for the rest of the night. 

I have a problem with slowing down. I feel like this injury came at a very opportune moment because as the world is starting to look like it's opening up, I am revving my engine at the start line, waiting for the green light to go  0-100 as fast as I can. 

And this is after all my repeated efforts over the years to slow my life down. Well, it's not slow enough. I took a look at my schedule for tomorrow, and it looks insane to me already: get myself dressed up, and the dance studio room presentable for a Facebook live dance event at 8:30am, Zoom into a book club, serve lunch to me and my son, take a taal class with my guru, teach one hour kathak on zoom, and go out to dinner with a friend in the evening. This sounds like a torturous day, I need to figure out what to remove. I will listen to my body tomorrow, and if I cannot do something, I will say no, and cancel. However sad it makes me to do that. Something's gotta give - and it will not be my body or health. 

So, I am percolating in my slowed down state of life -- really, it is much slower. Each evening, I'm in my bed by 7:30-8pm, and I don't fall asleep until after 11. I have 3-4 hours of solo time for myself, where I am reading, writing, thinking, creating, planning, imagining, fantasizing. A movie/mini-series project, episodes for my Patreon page, a new program in the curriculum of my dance school, contemplating non-profit status for my dance school, grants to apply for, prepping an upcoming AirBnB property ... all in various stages of development. Some will come to fruition - like the AirBnB property, and others will remain a figment of my over-active imagination for years to come - like the mini-series. But if it's about the journey, and not the destination, I'm glad to say I am enjoying this journey. 

Update: I managed to do all the activities on that overly packed Friday without further hurting my body. While I am glad that was the case, I will not use that as the metric of the standard of what all I can accomplish in a given day. I must continue to listen to my body, and make choices to move my life in a leisurely pace, where I can continue to enjoy the beauty of all the small moments.

The last agenda item on my packed Friday - dinner with my dear friend Farah.