Hot Yoghurt

Perplexed by the idea of not enjoying my own company, I wanted to try something new. Somehow, unemployment had thrown me down into a deep dark hole filled with sleepless nights, manic mood swings and explosive bursts of anger. This was supposed to be a time where I could relax. Where I could find what I really was passionate about. Where I could use time to paint, go for a run, start a ceramics course or take up day drinking. But I didn’t know what to do with myself and I didn't know why.

I went to hot yoga once last week. Yoga is not normally my go to but Ben told me I needed to relax and I think he was right. As I sprawled myself along the mat in a 34 degrees room, I looked at the people around me. Women mostly, except for the shirtless man wearing a peace tattoo along his sweaty shoulder blades. It looked fresh, and straight from Bali. I squirmed as the teacher sung the word ‘namaste’ and requested everyone put their hands into a prayer position. Last time I checked I wasn’t practicing religion of any kind so this embellished my Greek upbringing and I felt happy that I was never made to do this as a child.

Instead, my childhood was made up of of playing tennis with dad, long hot summer days at Sandringham beach, walking the rabbit and taking on the responsibility of judge Judy for the physical fights my sisters were having.  

Time is a strange thing. When I was working, I never felt like I had enough of it. Looking at art museums and cooking were put on the back-burner because I was frantically riding my bike around the city trying to get something done.

I never enjoyed my own company really because I needed someone else to talk to. Menial tasks like taking the bin to the front of the house was a time filler to think about what I wanted to do next.

I made my way out of the leafy green namaste yoga studio that was filled with sweaty girls, burning incense, sweet dreams and Saturday night plans. In the literal sense, and in my dire attempt to relax, I stopped to smell the roses but a truck driver pulled up to my left and filled my lungs with petrol fumes. I watched the complex 2 tonne truck race down towards the Geelong freeway wondering what sort of freight was stored in its deep dark trunk and where it was heading tonight.

The clouds moved slower and turned into shapes that I had never seen before. Was I going crazy? Or is this just what reality feels like when you are left alone for too long. If I couldn't sleep before, it seemed as though now I may never sleep again. My hands clicked together and picked at that one stubborn nail that wouldn't come off .

Today was okay.