2013 was undoubtedly the absolute worst year of my life. My six year romantic relationship ended in web of lies, my three living grandparents died one after another, and I found myself feeling more alone than ever. I guess you could say I went into a type of autopilot-survival mode; I got a second job to support my life, I cried every single day in my car on the way to work, pulled myself together as I robotically completed my daily expectations, and drank until I forgot all my worries every chance I could. At the time I believed I was doing everything I needed to just to survive. Survive. That word was present in my mind every single second of every single day. Each time I tried desperately to army crawl out of my despair I felt as though life came by and push me back; it was as if I was running full speed down a dead end street and something had to change.
As the days began to melt into each other I began to realize I needed more than to just “survive” I needed to figure out a way to thrive in my new normal. From an outsiders perspective I seemed to be grieving, “holding it together,” or even happy at times. I knew I had a lot to be grateful for and yet I still could not feel even an ounce of gratitude. I had to find a way to pull myself out of the black hole of depression I was living in. I thought the answer could be found in my career; if I made more money I would inevitably be happier by having less stress and more time to enjoy my life … right?
Wrong! I completed graduate school, finished my year-long internship, and was immediately offered my desired job at the time. I was newly motivated and feeling great about my choices. I would wake feeling excited about the day ahead of me and ready to take on challenges. Again, from an outside point of view I was winning at life, however on the inside I could not shake this sinking feeling of depression that would creep in almost daily. Although I was feeling so many positive emotions about my life choices I was also plagued by more invasive emotions like fear, sadness, and despair; there were countless times I felt like an open emotional wound walking around the world susceptible to debris and infection. I spent hours hiding in my apartment, shielding myself from the outside world like a band aide just waiting for my feelings to scab over so I could emerge my “normal” self again.
And then it happened. One cold, dark January night my best friend asked me to join her at a yoga class and my life changed. Upon entering the studio my senses were shocked with excitement; the candles, the essential oils, the music, the energy … they all danced through my body and made me feel alive. The studio I found is absolutely beautiful, created from old wood with incredible details it sits on a lake and is surrounded by trees; I couldn’t have imagined a more serene place for me to fall in love with yoga. To me yoga is more than just a “work out;” it’s a chance to be alone with my body and my breath, a rare opportunity to shut out the world, completely disconnect and just be. This magical space that I found inspired me to complete my yoga teacher certification so I could pass this illuminous experience on to others.
Again I believed that I had found my new calling, finally, teaching yoga was the answer I needed; teaching yoga would make me feel complete and push me far away from my dark place … unfortunately wrong again. Although I love sharing the magic that is yoga with my students, what I have come to realize during my desperate search for happiness is that all along my answers where hidden within myself; the material items, goals, accomplishments, and efforts all meant nothing without a deep appreciation and love of myself. Yoga, in the most loving way, forced me to slow down, turn inward, listen to my body and essentially fall in love with myself. I’ve emerged this experience and new woman with a different outlook on life and a contentment I didn’t know I so urgently needed. For that, I will always be grateful to yoga.
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