Page 11 of The Games We Play

I started taking yoga in my last year of high school and it saved me, both physically and mentally. It challenged me both on and off my mat to continue to push myself. Some days it inspired me to push further in my career goals, in all the things I wanted to strive for.

Other days, I had to teach myself to just put one foot in front of the other and get through the day. It taught me to find the balance of being happy all the time, and just being okay some days. It got me through the hardest time of my life.

So, getting my certification to teach was an easy decision to make, knowing how much it positively affected my life and how much it continues to help me grow.

I got my first two hundred hour certification ten years ago. I’ve since expanded, receiving another five hundred hour certification and traveling the world to the most beautiful places. Fiji, Thailand, India, and my personal favorite, Bali.

I always come back home to Seattle, bringing my teachings here, because this place will always be a safe haven for me. Somewhere I have always felt secure.

“Stay grounded and draw power from your core. Breathe through the pose and as you exhale, twist just a little deeper,” I remind my students as I stroll between the mats.

I glance around the class, and the man in the far corner catches my attention. The front of his body is facing the opposite direction. I see the strong lines of his back through his damp, black shirt, pulled tight from the pose that he’s holding. His tousled, dark hair contrasts the milky completion of his skin thatshines with a layer of sweat. His corded muscles flex when he releases the pose he’s been holding, and my heart kicks up a notch.

I blink out of my trance, realizing I had the students hold too long, and quickly turn my head away. I continue to guide the class through the next pose before glancing back to the corner. This time, his face is angled toward me, looking down at his mat as he twists into this pose, and my body deflates.

I keep seeing him. But it’s never him.My Seamus.

Even though I tell myself I never want to see him again, I still do. My subconscious is killing my willpower.

Ever since the night at Afterburn, he’s everywhere.

Because now I know he’s alive and out there somewhere, close. Too close.

Oh, and let’s not forget, really irritatingly good looking.

I decided to check out the new club to see if it would be a good place to teach Tantric yoga classes. Currently, there aren’t any studios locally that offer them, and I haven’t been able to find a location that is willing to. So, my certification for Tantric teachings has been going to waste.

Afterburn would be the perfect place for it. An open, non-judgmental space to tap into your sexual energy.

But now, knowing Seamus is there, or could potentially be there? Hell no. Tossing that stupid idea straight out the window from the tallest building I can find.

And as for Afterburn, I haven’t been within a mile of the place in three months. I can’t say I haven’t been tempted. Not just for the potential of teaching some amazing classes there, but for the sexual openness and possibility of meeting someone.

Originally, I became a member of the X-Connect site to research what it was all about and register for the opening night of the club. I wanted to connect with the owners about my services to see if it would be something they would be interestedin. I never had the chance that night and, well, yeah that’s been shot to shit.

If there is anything that has come out of this, I’ve realized one thing: as much spiritual healing as I’ve done, there’s still a part of me that hasn’t forgiven him.

No. I forgave him. A long time ago. But seeing him has opened old wounds, and now I realize that part of me still needs closure.

My faded memories make me doubt myself, but I know we had something so special.

We were special.

It was a short time in our lives, but there was no denying what we had. Giving him my virginity felt natural, good.

Then he just left.

Now, I don’t know what to believe. Did we have something as special as I thought? Was he just lying to me the entire time?

I shake my head at incessant thoughts that keep roaming in that direction. The negative, bitter, resentful thoughts that want to rear their ugly heads. They have been for the past three months, and I need to do something to stop it.

“Pull your knees into your chest and slowly lower your back flat against your mat, giving your spine that nice little massage we love. Inhale,” I exaggerate my inhale, “take a commanding breath deep into your lungs, open your mouth…exhale. Allow yourself to melt into your mat and release any tension you feel in your shoulders, arms, and fingertips. Allow your breath to guide you through the release.”

Savasana is always a class favorite, and I give my students extra time here. Sometimes I walk around or sit on my mat and observe, wondering what plagues their minds. Today, I accept that mine is completely infected and there is no amount of savasana that will heal this.

I need to find him. Address him. Get the closure I didn’t know I needed, and move on.

As my students find the stillness and peace they are searching for, I pad my bare feet over to my phone, unlocking the screen to search for something myself, starting with trusty ole’ Google.

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