0
Share on bsky
I was strong. At least, that’s what everyone said.
I started my first business at 19. I built success with persistence, strategy, and grit. I pushed forward without asking for permission—proving, mostly to my father, that I could do anything.
Then he died. And everything collapsed.
I couldn’t work. I couldn’t breathe. My drive disappeared overnight, like it had never really belonged to me.
That’s when I realized: my entire ambition was built around the need to be seen by him. Without that goal, I was lost.
In a daze, I left for Asia. Not to find myself, but because I didn’t know what else to do. I signed up for a yoga teacher training course just to fill the silence. It was supposed to be a distraction—but it became my reset.
We weren’t just learning poses. We were learning to stop—to feel, to observe, to breathe. To be in the moment instead of constantly escaping it.
It sounds simple, but it changed everything.
One day during practice, I was sitting in stillness, feeling my breath, when it hit me: Right now, there is nothing wrong. My grief, my pressure, my pain—all of it existed in memory or anticipation. But not in that exact moment.
And if I could stay there—in my body, in the now—I could be free.
That presence saved me. And not just emotionally. It quietly rewrote my life.
I didn’t return to business. I returned to myself.
And from that place, a new profession was born.
Over the last 13 years, I’ve worked with more than a thousand people across Ukraine, Indonesia, India, and now the United States. I became a rehabilitation specialist, blending yoga with neurophysiology, movement science, and somatic tools. I studied how trauma lives in the body, how pain distorts perception, and how we can rebuild the mind-body connection—gently, through attention and micro-movement.
I’ve watched clients recover from pain not just through strength or flexibility, but through presence—the same presence I discovered in that silent training room years ago.
That presence saved me. And not just emotionally. It quietly rewrote my life.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this:
Healing doesn’t begin with effort. It begins with attention.
And sometimes, the deepest transformation starts not with a big decision, but with a quiet breath—taken all the way in.
~
Read 0 comments and reply