Picture a person holding their breath through a difficult pose and you see how I have been getting through the tough stages of my life. Enduring it, but fighting it. Any beginner to yoga will tell you- yoga is the breath. It’s not twisting yourself up for a couple minutes while your mind wanders and then moving on. It’s a spiritual journey of being present and diving in. I didn’t know that. In truth, after 35 years of my on-again-off-again love affair with the practice, I don’t think I’ve ever truly embraced yoga until now.

I’ve spent my whole life searching for something (or someone) to make me okay. My Catholic upbringing didn’t do it for me. My love affairs didn’t fill the void. Neither did friends, food, fashion, movies, art, marathons, literature, alcohol, work, gardening, philanthropy… you get the picture. Fill in the blank- it didn’t make me feel whole. Only now do I see the equation more perfectly than I ever have in my life. Those things are all wonderful and beautiful, but they exist outside of me. I never knew that everything I ever needed exists right here in me. Right here in the breath that I seem to hold captive. I am enough.

Near my bed I keep a worn metal bookmark a friend gave me years ago that says “Nothing is so strong as gentleness and nothing is so gentle as real strength.” Ralph W. Sockman. Every so often I look at it and peace swells within me.

During a life changing reiki session yesterday I learned that I was drawing strength from the wrong places, the places of fear. I wasn’t being courageous, I was reacting to the panic of imagining the worst possible outcome. From there I raised my fists ready to fight and lived defensively while the days stretched into weeks and then months. And here I am. Tired and sore from being on the lookout… for what I am not sure.

As I search my heart I think about what it means to be in hiding. Years ago I hid my feelings away and trapped myself in a type of shame that left me powerless. On the outside I felt that everyone was trying to crack the code, find my secret and expose me. It was an “us against them” type of scenario and I had to stay on top of things. What pressure for a young girl. My paranoia inspired me to lock as many doors between me and other people as possible.

As I settle into my skin years later I search for the keys in hopes of opening myself back up. Now I see so many parallels between my past and Hope attending school. I tell myself that I am not shoving the same type of secrets down her throat that rested in mine for over 20 years, but I still struggle sometimes. I’m not taking her away from her life, telling her to hide or teaching her about shame. I’m celebrating my daughter for who she is just the way she is. Doesn’t everyone deserve some level of privacy in their life without feeling that you have to answer to the world for who you are or where you come from?

Released from the burden of worry, my clarity is overwhelming and powerful. And my heart feels bursting with love. How did I move so far from this place? More than ever I feel my hope for the future radiate through me and spill from my fingertips as I write. Beaming yellow light burning brightly as a new day begins with gratitude and I open another door.