Upside Down

Our egos are funny little blighters, aren’t they?

They often think they have our best interests at heart but, more often than not, we’d be wise not to trust them.

This was at the back of my mind when I was bloom scrolling the other morning. Yes, you did read that correctly. I’ve worked hard to ensure there’s no room for doom in my social media algorithm.

What did catch my eye though was a reel featuring a lady walking into a yoga class - looking as if she was in need of a double hip and knee replacement, and lugging a yoga mat behind her that looked like it weighed ten tonnes.

'This is how people expect a 52-year-old woman to walk into her yoga class’, the caption read.

But then, in a blaze of social media glory, this ageing little old woman sprang into action. Flinging her yoga mat to the floor with ease, she gracefully moved up into an unassisted headstand, before showcasing a repertoire of yoga poses I’ve never even tried to pronounce before, let alone try and practise.

And this is also when my ego pricked up its little ears.

“Hey you,” it said, tap tapping me on the shoulder. “You can do a headstand. And you’re 54 and older than her.”

“I know,” I replied, swatting it away in irritation. “But I haven’t practised regularly or even attempted a headstand for over a year now.”

It’s not surprising really. These past twelve months of my life have been so topsy turvy, the thought of flinging my ageing menopausal body into the same position, hadn't been appealing at all.

“Mhhhhh. I wonder if you can still do one though,” my ego sneered at me, looking away into the distance with a thoughtfully smug look on its face.

Of course I knew I should ignore this. Unlike the time on the dancefloor, after a bit too much of bottomless prosecco, when I performed the splits in front of a rather large crowd at a nightclub. I was on a high for an hour or so afterwards, until a younger man came up to me later that night.

“Are you the older lady who was doing the splits?” he asked, too drunk to notice his words had cut me and my inflated ego to the quick.

“We’re talking about a headstand now and there’s no one watching,” my ego reminded me, pointing to the empty lounge.

“So, can you still do one?” it continued to taunt me with loaded questions.

“Well, let’s see then, shall we?” I sneered back at it.

“What are you doing?” sanity whispered in my ear, casting a worried glance at the dog, TV, cup of coffee, and other breakable items that were well within my reach if everything went tits up.

“Feel the fear and do it anyway,” I kept repeating as I slunk to the floor.

Ignoring my sanity, who kept trying to get my attention from a safer position on the other side of the room, I tried to remember my yoga teacher's instructions.

I'd been so chuffed seven years ago, when under her expert guidance, I’d successfully stood on my head - unassisted - for the first time in my life.

“Well, you won’t have to worry about feeling anything, let alone fear, if this goes terribly wrong,” my sanity shouted a little louder.

And wondering if it was such a good idea when my feet refused to leave the ground and entice my legs above my head, I couldn’t contain my joy – and then my ego – when I hovered a little wobbly, upside down a few minutes later.

“See, told ya!” the ego congratulated me.

“Remember, what goes up must come down though,” poor sanity whispered, peeking out from where it was hiding behind the sofa. “Just get down carefully and in one piece,” it pleaded with me, sighing with relief when I was finally reunited with terra firma, minus any terrible repercussions.

And yes, of course I know there should be no ego in yoga, but sometimes we just can’t help ourselves – especially as we get a bit older!

I believe age is merely a number. We're never too old to give anything a go.

CAPTIONS:
From Top to Bottom: Practising back in 2024.
My first headstand attempt in my yoga class in 2019.
On a paddleboard in 2020 (not bad for an aquaphobic).
My dog, Sophie, looking unimpressed with me and my upside down ego.