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I had a sort of panic during a yoga class.  I take the class because I don’t know many people in my village, for one, and I practice yoga anyway, for another. It’s a “kundalini” style, which is more meditative than my usual practice, and it’s known to bring out emotions….

….which in this case, was bawling, or trying not to bawl. I’m now divorced, I have no family here and I live in a foreign country.  What the hell am I doing? I have no one! I’m so alone…

(and blah blah blah) It didn’t take me long to start to reason with myself.  My family wouldn’t solve my problems outside of maybe, if I lived closer, a Sunday dinner where we talk about nothing in particular. We do that anyway on the phone.

And I have friends and acquaintances here, which if we aren’t closer, it’s because I’m a bit reserved and don’t let a lot out, or in. I’m a good listener but I don’t know the difference between “sharing my emotions” and “complaining”, and I hate complaining.

We are fundamentally alone anyway.  That’s the hard truth of my yoga whining. We are alone, we only matter to ourselves and our loved ones, and for the role we play in our jobs and communities (I am valuable as a taxpayer, a voter, a consumer, a patient, a teacher.)

So I got over it.  I thought about my boy(man)friend, and how much I love him, and how much I feel that he loves me. That helps.  We are soon going to pass the “Christmas morning every day” excitement of a new relationship, but that’s nice, too. It’s becoming normal.

I love my sister, my parents, my nephew, my cousins. I love my job and most of my colleagues. We are alone but we fill up the emptiness with the love that we have to give.

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