Yoga Saved My Life
It was November 2016. I had just moved out of the home I shared with my husband and into a one-bedroom apartment by the lake. I remember the day like it was yesterday, as I emptied the material possessions I worked so hard to accumulate over the course of my marriage into a mid-size U-Haul. The day before had been filled with sunshine and reasonable temperatures (for Michigan, that is), but on that day the snow and wind had decided to make their seasonal entrance. As if this Moving Day could get any worse, now I was forced to lug totes of clothes up three flights of stairs in the middle of a blizzard. If only I knew what I was really in for.
It was the first time I had ever been on my own. The summer after I graduated high school, I moved out of my parents’ house and into a college dorm room that I shared with a childhood bestie. There was that one summer after Freshman year that I shacked up with the ‘rents, but that had never happened since. Over the course of my early-to-mid-20s, I moved from apartment to apartment with my college friends until I eventually moved in with my fiancé. It was not until the first night of sleeping alone in that cookie-cutter apartment that I realized how much of my life had been spent finding solace in others. In 30 years, I had never, ever been alone.
I had always been a “relationship” person, a self-proclaimed yet wrongly assuming extrovert (I’m actually an extroverted introvert) who needed to be around people in order to feel happy and complete. My weekends had been spent frolicking downtown with my girlfriends, dancing at clubs, eating at the coolest new restaurants, and overall distracting myself from the actual emptiness that was my life. It’s amazing the extent to which we can trick ourselves into believing that we are happy and fulfilled.
Eventually the façade faded and the veil lifted. Weekend trips, destination vacations, and a pristine home to come home to every day could no longer mask the lifelessness that had become me. I had turned into a shell of a person, and even my closest friends and family members were noticing. I could no longer hide what was going on beneath the surface of my perfectly-curated exterior.
The unraveling of my marriage eventually led to that day in mid-November where I spent my first night alone, crying in bed until there were no more tears left to cry. What have I done? I thought to myself countless times. How would I ever feel happy again? Does happiness even exist? These are the questions that plagued me day after day from the time I woke up until the time my mind would finally shut down and I could get a few hours of relief.
Within a week of my move, I found a cute little yoga studio a couple of blocks away. I already knew about this studio since I had diligently done my homework when deciding where I wanted to live. The space was unlike any other yoga facility I had ever been to, with its dark, soothing, inviting vibe. From the moment I stepped foot onto the polished hardwood floor, I knew I was home.
For the next month and a half, I was at that studio every single day, sometimes twice per day, for class. I would set up my mat in the far left corner, where no one except the instructor could tell that I spent the majority of the class in child’s pose sobbing into my mat. Some days I moved a little, some days I moved a lot, and on others I didn’t move at all. And it was all okay. I soon became friends with the owner and the other teachers, and I allowed myself to be open and vulnerable about what my current life situation entailed. No one knew of me or what ridiculous expectations I had placed upon myself in my “old life”. No one judged me for having a failed marriage or a broken spirit. For the first time in my life, I was free to just be.
I had plans to travel to India that January as part of my healing journey, but also as a means to dive headfirst into my favorite pastime: yoga. While I had practiced yoga for years (albeit incorrectly), I knew this ancient art form would grow to be a much, much larger part of my life. And I could not have been more accurate. Since that initial trip over three and a half years ago, I’ve dedicated my life to the unification of my mind, body, and spirit so that I can help others struggling on their own journeys. Yoga is more than just touching your toes or chanting with your eyes closed; it is a way of life. It cracks open the darkest places of your heart and allows you to shed layers you never even knew you had. It lets you connect to places within you that have never seen the light of day. Yoga shifts and moves things inside of you so new space and new energy can be let in. Yoga returns you home to you.
I always say that I didn’t choose this healing modality; it chose me. Yoga chose me because I desperately needed to heal myself from the inside out. I needed to learn how to appreciate my body in its entirely and not just for how it looked. I needed to learn how to rewire my brain from all of the negative self-talk and criticism. I needed to learn how to love, unconditionally and without attachment, a process that can only begin by loving the self.
Yoga is more than exercise. It is more than a pretty studio or a celebrity trend. Yoga is life. And if you’re open and willing, it can save yours like it did mine.
Melissa is an experienced yoga instructor, life coach, and somatic energy practitioner. For collaborations or private virtual healing sessions, contact [email protected] or subscribe to her free YouTube channel by clicking here.
