The truth is that I really don’t know the truth, as we’ve already established. I am at a point in my life right now where nothing makes sense, and I realize I don’t even know what the truth is anymore.
I’m not sure who I love or don’t love. Or that if I feel anything at all, ever. Or if any of my past relationships or loves ever mattered. I’m not sure I believe in love or if I even believe in the idea of sex.
All I know is that every once in a while I do feel something. Something so strong that I can’t deny it. And every time I get so badly damaged from it that it makes me not want to feel it again, and then I start to not believe again.
But in that moment, when I wake up for just a moment, I know that is the truth. And when I speak my truth, no matter how vulnerable it makes me. No matter how stupid or clingy or whiny I sound, I am at peace with the fact that I’ve spoken my truth.
In the case of my yoga teacher, I told him my truth. Shortly after my last conversation with him in which he destroyed me, I told him how I felt and that’s it. Without needing or wanting anything back. And then I let go.
In the studio after this, I felt relieved. I may have just cut myself open, wounded and lying on the floor, but I spoke my truth. He, on the other hand, never spoke his truth, and this became painfully obvious in the next couple of weeks.
I started going to yoga during his teaching off hours so that I wouldn’t have to suffer the torture of him touching me. Unfortunately, I was still there while he was in his own practice. But I could stay at my end and he could stay at his. From across the other side of the studio, it was easy to pretend he wasn’t even there. And then one day shortly after my truth, he became to come closer.
The distance between us became shorter and shorter until he was practicing next to me one day. I tried my hardest to not even make eye contact with him, and on that day I almost cried.
So then I took my Savasana, and then a thought hit me. I was at peace with my truth. He was still being tortured by his truth, trapped deep inside him. He was holding onto it so tightly, trying not to let it go. I had set mine free and he was being haunted by his.
In my corpse pose, resting next to him while he continued his rigorous practice, I smiled.