Over the past several years, but especially in recent months, my life has been one, in the words of my therapist, AFGO (another f-ing growth opportunity) after another. While this constant change has felt utterly exhausting at times, it has taught me a lot about myself, what matters to me, and what I want to make of my impermanent time on Earth. Since the early days of my recovery, I’ve always felt that I had a good sense of who I was. Amid the various experiences I’ve had and the transformations I’ve undergone this year, I feel like I’ve refined that “sense” into the most authentic version of me to date. Obviously, I expect that I’ll continue to grow and change in the coming years, but there’s nevertheless something so powerful about being able to finally—and fully—live your truth.
But this post isn’t going to be about “living my truth”—I’ve already written many pieces on that. Instead, I want to reflect on my most recent growth opportunity, the importance of pushing myself out of my comfort zone, and how the constant ebb and flow of not only recovery but life, in general, has been the primary catalyst for my accrescent strength and self-realization.
Two weeks ago as of this Sunday, I packed my belongings, got in my car, and drove to New York for a 200-hour yoga teacher training. I had signed up for this training last March, when I was in a very different place in my life and thought that I might want to teach yoga (I’ve since realized I definitely do not). I was also under the impression then that I wanted to live in California (oh, how things have changed!) and the future of my writing career was much more ambiguous than it is at present. Over the summer, as my life continued to shift in new and exciting—albeit nerve-wracking—ways, I went back and forth a lot on whether or not I wanted to pursue the training. I ultimately decided to go for it, as I genuinely enjoy yoga, the rural location was a big draw to the ever-growing part of me that longs to escape the bustling suburbs, and I was curious to see how I’d fare being away from home, as the last time I had been on my own for more than several days was during my disastrous month-long stint at Emerson College in the fall of 2019.
I wasn’t sure what I expected from the training, but it was drastically different than anything I could have imagined. On the second day, overcome with the realization that there was no way I would be able to sustain the grueling, twelve-hours-per-day schedule, I broke down and seriously considered calling it quits and heading home. I spoke with my mom on the phone, who encouraged me to talk to the lead instructor and see if we could settle on a compromise. When I did and explained to the instructor how the schedule was detrimental to my mental health, she was very supportive and offered to let me make my own schedule and attend the classes and lessons that would benefit my personal practice. I wouldn’t receive an official certification by the end, but I would be able to stay and learn more about the parts of yoga that interested me most. It was a middle-ground that I felt good about, and one that probably would have enabled me to see the training through—had food not become an issue soon after.
At home, I’m used to having complete control over when I eat, the type of food I eat, and how much of it I eat. Being in recovery from anorexia as well as being a plant-based athlete, nutrition has become my utmost priority, and I’m always conscientious of meeting my dietary needs. At the training, however, that control was virtually nonexistent. I suddenly found myself faced with different foods, different (usually smaller) portion sizes, and the challenge of adequately feeding myself when surrounded by a group of people who were all eating a lot less. Snacks weren’t provided, so it was up to me to make sure that I fit them into my inconsistent schedule. In the back of my mind, I was constantly worried that I wasn’t eating enough. These worries were exacerbated when, a mere five days into the training, I experienced a resurgence of disordered thoughts and urges that I had previously thought to be dormant.
Suddenly, I was faced with another dilemma, not that unlike the one I had grappled with at Emerson three years earlier: do I stay to see the training through and risk lapsing back into my disorder, or do I go home and focus on getting my recovery back on track ASAP? The following day, when my parents came to visit, I had a long discussion with them about my conflict. After talking through the pros and cons, we agreed that it was in my best interest to leave, and that Monday, they returned to pick me up, six days earlier than planned.
It would have been so easy to stay; to continue my routine of slightly underfeeding myself and run the chance of regressing into the ruthless trap of anorexia. Maybe I would have been fine; maybe I would have summoned the strength to overcome the disordered thinking without relying on my support system at home. Or maybe I wouldn’t have been okay; maybe I would have continued to undereat, losing more weight and more of myself in the process. I’m no fortune teller, but I do know that that was a risk I wasn’t willing to take, not when there is so much I want to do with my life that I can’t if I’m unwell. I chose to play it safe, and in retrospect, I’m so glad that I did.
As a highly-ambitious overachiever, it’s mentally difficult for me to not finish what I started. But despite what my inner perfectionist believes about success and failure, my experience with the yoga teacher training, though hard and cut short, wasn’t all bad; in fact, more positives came out of it than not. In addition to prioritizing my recovery and identifying areas of it that I still need to work on, I saw with a newfound clarity the things in life that are the most important to me. I also advocated for myself and my unique needs, which is never easy but always conductive, and bonded with a group of amazing women whom I hope to stay in touch with in the coming years. And I certainly improved my yoga practice, not only on a physical level but on a mental and emotional one as well.
Looking back on my life, it’s the most challenging experiences that have taught me the most about myself and shaped me into the multi-faceted individual I am today. I don’t believe that life should be rooted in suffering, of course, but I also don’t believe that being comfortable should be our overarching goal. It can be incredibly powerful to push yourself outside of your comfort zone and uncover a strength you never knew you possessed. Powerful, and, oftentimes, life-changing; after all, if I had chosen to stay comfortable (aka sick) when I was sixteen, I likely would have never overcome anorexia and achieved all that I have in recovery.
So, yoga teacher training didn’t pan out how I’d expected—or, for that matter, hoped. But that’s not the end of the world; I’m still in decent mental and physical health (with only a bit of ground to make up), I still love yoga and am benefiting more from it now than I was before the training, and now that I’m back home, I’m more motivated than ever to actualize my many aspirations. It’s been a summer of learning and growth, to say the least, and as the colder weather rolls in, I’m readying myself not only for the changing of seasons but for whatever new changes in my personal life are on the horizon.
Ah, the bittersweet of a challenging experience so beautifully expressed in your post. Finding that place when you’ve been pushed far enough and not over the edge was handled just right. A great experience to remind all of us of the fragile balance of our mental and physical wellbeing. Thanks for the great post.
You’re welcome! Thank you for supporting me through this challenging, transformative time in my life.