A young friend of mine has just bought a house with her boyfriend. To her the financial commitment of joint property ownership comes easier than the emotional commitment of getting married.

I thought this was strange. But now I wonder if it’s not as topsy-turvy as it seemed.

At my local yoga studio after an initial courtship and paying for small packs of classes, I moved to the commitment of being a full pay-monthly member. Once we were in a steady relationship this felt right. I guess the finances work out this way, but I also wanted to make a commitment to my yoga and to the studio.

But now I’ve taken the extra step of signing up for mat storage. And somehow leaving a bit of my stuff at the studio feels a more significant act of trust than offering up my credit card details. Weird. It’s nothing of course, but it feels like a Thing to me. Attachment to the physical object of my mat? Nah, I don’t think it’s that. I think it’s good old Imposter Syndrome again. If I leave my mat at the studio, that suggests that I think I belong there and that I’m serious about this yoga thing. But can I be serious about yoga without being very ‘good’ at asana…? What will people think?!

I’m amused by how ridiculous this is. A situation that is entirely in my head, no-one else’s. I guess it’s just that I’ve spotted this particular bit of ego-written narrative for what it is. A made-up story. Doesn’t make it any less real in its ability to play on my emotions though. Bearing witness to my own drama makes for uncomfortable viewing. I’m undecided on its genre: tragedy or comedy?