At 24 years old, I found myself in an advertisement for a kickboxing and mixed martial arts gym. I was skipping rope in a boxing ring, my abs on full display, with the slogan “The More You Sweat The Less You Bleed” in the background. Sparring was my escape in my early twenties, but once the euphoria from kickboxing faded, I became addicted to CrossFit.
By my early thirties, a friend who shared my fitness passion spoke highly of the intensity and challenges of hot yoga. Halfway through my first class, I nearly joined the girl who rushed out to vomit, but I persevered. It was humbling, yet I still didn’t grasp that true strength comes in many forms, not just through sheer muscle. Hot yoga soon became my new obsession—I was completely hooked.
When I was 37 and pregnant with my son, I had transformed into a dedicated yogi, attending classes several days a week. Although I tried prenatal yoga, it felt too slow for my liking. Instead, I continued practicing headstands and twists well into my pregnancy. Just two weeks before giving birth, a thoughtful instructor urged me to ease up and let my body rest, suggesting I explore more restorative poses. I smiled and nodded, but I was reluctant to slow down; I craved movement and sweat.
My pregnancy went smoothly. Despite initial challenges in conceiving, I was fortunate enough to work out and feel great throughout. I was, admittedly, a bit overconfident towards the end of my pregnancy. I thought that if I could manage carrying my growing fetus, motherhood would be a breeze. As many experienced mothers can attest, that assumption was far from reality. Once my son was born, the shadows of postpartum depression and anxiety began to take hold, choking away my will and draining my strength.
With my family’s support, I sought help and began therapy sessions with a doctor and a social worker. I had to relearn everything I thought I understood about bravery, strength, and vulnerability. My previous bravado vanished, especially during those lonely nights when I struggled to console my son as he cried incessantly.
Four months after his birth, I weighed less than I ever had as an adult, and my physical weakness became glaringly apparent. Friends and family who visited were shocked by my frail appearance; my once fit body had been reduced to a mere shadow of its former self. I blamed my muscle loss on my mental state, unable to shake the anxiety that pinned me to my bed, clutching my son’s video monitor instead of the dumbbells I once lifted with ease.
During a postpartum therapy session, as I contemplated returning to yoga while grappling with the fear of exposing my vulnerability, I recalled the words of a former instructor. “You cannot muscle through it, Jenna, you have to give your body time to open up and ease into the poses.” My face flushed with embarrassment as I awkwardly attempted a triangle pose that my body clearly wasn’t ready for. All my kickboxing and CrossFit strength couldn’t compare to this new practice that required a gentler, steadier approach to movement—one rooted in mindfulness and inner peace.
When I finally mustered the courage to attend a yoga class again, the instructor led us in a group meditation before we began our physical practice. In the past, I might have found this annoying, viewing the mantras and breathing exercises as unnecessary distractions. This time, however, I set aside my ego and opened my heart as she shared the wisdom, “We are not moving in circles; we are spiraling upwards.” By embracing yoga as more than just a workout, I began to carry those lessons into my daily life. My path was shifting—not a path of failure as I had feared, but one that welcomed vulnerability as a chance for growth.
Fast forward four years after that first postpartum yoga class, and the world was thrust into lockdown due to COVID-19. The coping mechanisms I had relied on to manage my anxiety and depression disappeared when yoga studios closed, and gyms with their fantastic nursery programs shut down indefinitely.
Yet, my inner strength remained. The lessons I had learned over the years guided me through those trying times. The owner of my yoga studio began sharing videos filled with breathing exercises, which my son and I enjoyed together to shake off our restlessness. As the weather warmed, outdoor yoga sessions began, where I embraced the ants crawling on my bare feet, finding joy in grounding myself in nature while releasing my worries.
The transformative realization that yoga saved me during one of my darkest periods inspired me to become a certified yoga instructor for children and teens. Ironically, five years after I had dismissed a kind instructor’s advice to explore restorative yoga, I am now embarking on a new journey to obtain my own restorative yoga certification. The temptation to muscle my way through life will always linger, but I’ve learned to pause and find freedom in my breath, even in the toughest times.
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Summary:
Yoga became my lifeline during the challenging postpartum period after my son was born. Initially, I struggled with anxiety and depression, feeling lost and physically weak. However, through therapy and a renewed yoga practice, I learned to embrace vulnerability and cultivate inner strength. The journey led me to become a certified yoga instructor for children, allowing me to share the transformative power of yoga with others.