Chapter 43
43
Morning sun drapes my skin. The breeze is cool. Every inhale is a refreshing gulp of salty sea air.
“Now open your eyes and feel the changes in your body,” Sophia says, capping off our five-minute breathing meditation. She’s the leader of our morning group activity: vinyasa yoga by the gardens. Sophia is a certified yoga instructor, and a damn good one at that. I don’t think I’ve ever down-dogged as well as I have today. My body is limber and reenergized, like I’ve somehow wrung the worries out of me.
Sophia is dressed in white linen—we all are, breezy and free. She insisted we change since looser clothing is more authentic to how they practice yoga in India. Sure, whatever. Admittedly, this garb is way more comfortable than skintight leggings and a pinching sports bra. The best part is, I don’t have to worry about my stomach skin rolling over when I bend to touch my toes. It’s kind of empowering.
“Before we conclude, I want us all to say one positive thing about ourselves, and for the group to repeat it back as you statements. I can start and we’ll go around in a circle.”
After what Kelly told me, I’m assuming these affirmations are yet another instrument in their group manifestations. I’ve been slowly understanding the power of affirmations, but it still feels narcissistic to praise yourself so openly.
“I am successful,” Sophia starts.
“You are successful,” we say. I push through my internal cringe, reminding myself to protect our group synergy.
“I am beautiful,” Ana says.
“You are beautiful,” everyone says with smiles, easily.
Huh. Why am I the only one having so much trouble? Oh my god. Have I internalized misogyny? You know what? She is beautiful. And so am I!
“I am a hard worker,” says Kelly.
“You are a hard worker.”
“I am a good person,” Angelique says.
“You are a good person.”
“I am loyal.” Lily.
“You are loyal.”
“I am a good mother,” Iz says.
I glance at her as we repeat, “You are a good mother.” Whatever Lily said to her this morning must have struck a chord. Her Zen vibrates at everyone else’s frequency.
“I am smart.” Emmeline.
“You are smart.”
“I am brave.” Maya.
“You are brave.”
There’s a brief lull and I realize it’s my turn.
I clear my throat, embarrassment licking me.
“I-I am worthy,” I say.
“You are worthy.”
They repeat it without a hitch. Without an ounce of doubt. Like it’s true. Obvious. A brightness erupts inside my chest, pulsing hot through my veins. My lips curl into a smile and I sit taller.
I feel worthy. Genuinely. The group has gifted me with glowing worth and there’s no one to tell me otherwise, no hounding voices or clawing threats.
I am worthy.
Last is Bella Marie. We all turn to her, and she smiles a perfect little smile.
“I am a leader.”
“You are a leader,” we say to her.