When Asana Practice Slips Away
Yoga, Perimenopause, and the Pull of Social Justice
This summer, my Yoga mat has been mostly rolled up, leaning against a rarely used chair. Sometimes it makes its way to the trunk of my car with the intent to go to class, only to be carried back to its spot against the chair.
I haven’t practiced (or written anything on Substack) the way I normally do, or as I expected to. Instead, I’ve felt scattered, pulled in too many directions, stretched thin between responsibilities. Pressured by self-imposed goals. Undone by the exhaustion of perimenopause. Defeated by the relentless, draining heat of summer that seems unending. Some days it feels like my body and my schedule are conspiring against me.
Worst of all, I often feel like the words in my head have lost their way to my mouth.
Part of me feels guilty about this. Self-conscious even. Constantly questioning myself. Isn’t Yoga supposed to be the anchor? Isn’t practice the thing that steadies us in times of change? Am I letting down the people I love? Do they think something is wrong with me? Does anyone else want to normalize perimenopause as much as I do?
But maybe this, too, is the practice: noticing the absence, the disconnection, the shifts, the longing. Isn’t noticing these things without self-judgement or attempting to fix them part of the practice?
The Body’s Demands
Perimenopause doesn’t wait for us to find the perfect time or space. It barges in with hot flashes, restless nights, weight gain, bloating, mood swings, and brain fog. How rude!
And yet, Yoga philosophy reminds me that the body is always teaching us something. Right now, mine is teaching surrender. It’s telling me that sometimes rest is the practice, sometimes saying no is the practice, sometimes letting myself be inconsistent is the most honest version of Yoga I can live right now.
The Social Layer
This is the part that’s most unsettling. My ability to set aside practice is a privilege. I can put Yoga down and pick it back up again. I can grieve my lack of time for self-care.
Not everyone has that choice. Many people moving through perimenopause (or any transition) do so while navigating underfunded healthcare, workplaces without flexibility, families depending on them without support.
This is where social justice comes in. Perimenopause isn’t just a personal challenge, it’s a collective one.
Who gets access to care?
Whose exhaustion is dismissed as “normal”?
Who is shamed into silence?
Who feels like our healthcare system dismisses us when we can no longer make babies?
Why don’t they see the wisdom this transition brings - or do they? Maybe (hopefully) the patriarchy is intimidated by the audacity of our non-filtered voices and lack of “give-a-shits”.
Yoga Beyond the Mat
Even when I’m not practicing asana, Yoga calls me back in other ways. To pause when I want to rush. To breathe when my body feels hijacked. To recognize that being pulled in too many directions is also a sign of being tethered to community, to care, to the messy, unjust world we’re all trying to live in.
Maybe Yoga in this season isn’t about vigorous, playful sequences or daily discipline. Maybe it’s about remembering that my body’s transition is not separate from the transitions happening in the world.
Perimenopause heat, climate heat, social and political heat all remind us that change is here, it’s uncomfortable, and it demands response.
Honoring the Truth of Transition
Yes, my asana practice has slipped. I feel it in my achy joints. I miss it. I notice it. But I also trust that Yoga has not abandoned me. It shows up in the surrender, in the observation, in the quiet insistence that even disconnection is a guide.
One of the deepest forms of social justice work is refusing to measure our worth by productivity, by consistency, by how much we can carry. Instead, honoring the truth of transition in our bodies and in the world, and insisting on care for all of us in the process.
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This resonated with me. Thanks for your honesty and vulnerability. 🙏🏽 🧘🏾♀️