How I Fell In and Out and In of Love with Yoga – Part 1

IMG_0382.JPGI started yoga at school.  My friend’s mum was doing her 200 hour YTT and they had converted a room in their house.  I was in Sixth Form and pretty soon my studies overtook any life I had outside of school. My whole way through uni I would see posters up advertising yoga sessions and I always meant to go, but never did.  It’s the thought that counts, right?

Anyway, years later, and after several bouts of severe depression I needed to do something about my lifestyle and started going again to a little yoga studio in my home village.  It worked a treat to ease all the stresses that being a secondary school teacher brings.  I learned to value silence and to honour my body.  Even so I had had a couple of boyfriends who had promised me the world, only to snatch it away and give it away the very next day (*nods to George Michael’s spirit) and I really was at breaking point with regards to my self-esteem.  With one in particular I had already arranged to quit my job and move in with him a distance away before a boozy ski holiday wrecked all my plans for what I thought was happiness.  But then I had an epiphany.  One of those moments when you go ‘Aha!’.  I stuck a pin in a map of yoga centres, booked myself in for one in Nicaragua and left that weekend.  I was only gone a week but during that time I truly cleared my head.  I realised that I really WAS relying on other people for my own happiness, which wasn’t healthy and if I wanted the life I wanted I was going to have to take the bull by the horns and kick it in the nuts.  So I signed up for yoga teacher training.  I decided that if I was going to be a teacher, I may as well teach people to be relaxed.  Pretty near to the end of the course my Nan passed away and I just felt that with everything that needed to be done I couldn’t take my exam, so I deferred. During that time I my whole world changed.  I met my wonderful partner and I became pregnant with twins.  I found out about the twins a few weeks before my final exam and the centre would not allow me to continue.  I was heartbroken (not to mention really peed off) that I would have to wait another year at least.

After a few cancelled exams due to date mix ups I finally got a date for my practical exam.  I failed.  Passed the first two sections but allegedly I messed up part of a sequence in the other two and needed to do them again.  Gutted was not the word.  Partly because I don’t fail exams, partly because it was yet another delay to achieving my dream.  I hated yoga after that.  The whole idea really made me angry.  I felt like Yoga was just someone else that had once again promised me something then taken my dream away.  They failed me for forgetting a couple of bits of a sequence that I would never use again and wasn’t a real situation.  Teachers mess up in class all the time, you just usually laugh it off and carry on.  It took a very long while for me to even look at my mat.  I didn’t even want to talk yoga.  I didn’t want to think about it, I could feel myself getting angry if anyone even mentioned it.  One day some months later I was getting up off the floor and my back clicked really loudly.  My first thought was ‘Ooh I am getting old.’;  my next thought was ‘I need to do some yoga.’.  It was still there, within me, hiding its little light.  I had had an argument with yoga over my ego and it seemed that even though I had been a total bitch to it, it was there to forgive me.

Part 2 coming soon.

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