Hillary Bryanthttp://www.toivocenter.org/
The first yoga class I ever took was in an inpatient
treatment program in New Jersey about ten years ago. I was intrigued, but it
definitely wasn’t love at first pose. From
age thirteen to nineteen I was severely depressed.
Including outpatient, inpatient and residential – I was
treated a total of thirteen times. My inner angst first manifested as an eating
disorder, followed by self-harm, drug and alcohol abuse and finally suicidal
thoughts and actions. I spent more time in hospitals and the offices of health
care professionals than I did in high school or college.
When I had a free moment away from my rigorous treatment
schedule, my dad and I would attend yoga classes at a studio nearby. I was envious
of yoga students who radiated peace and tranquility. No matter what I did to
prevent it, a dark cloud followed me onto the mat.
I often left classes prematurely because I couldn’t stop
obsessing and worrying. I’d close my eyes and look away so no one could see that
I was fighting back tears. The negative voices in my head were always louder
than the instructor’s. I gave up on trying to quiet the voices, on trying to be
in the present.
The idea of treating my body like a temple was laughable
when it seemed like the only thing I knew how to do was abuse it. By the time I
ended high school and prepared to go off to college my life was spiraling
downward towards irreparable misery.
After five suicide attempts I found myself in a series of
different treatment programs for about six months. When I finally returned home
I knew that something inside me was beginning to change. My undeniable lust for
death had subsided and my days were getting a little easier. I was learning
that I’d rather live than die. I learned that I could not run from my demons,
only face them head on.
I returned to my mat in hopes of healing myself from all of
the pain and suffering I’d known for so long. Yet, I had no idea how much it
would change my life when I was finally able to let it in. Yoga has reunited my
mind and my body, formerly two separate entities, each miserable in their own
right. More importantly, it made my body a place where I could stand to be.
I have left behind all of my self-mutilating habits since
returning to yoga. I can now look in the mirror and see myself, see my scars,
and accept all of it with a greater sense of understanding, and a little bit of
love. I believe that time healed my external wounds, but it was yoga that
healed me internally.
Energetically, yoga classes made me feel lighter. All of a
sudden the weight of my burdens didn’t seem so impossible to bear. No matter
how bad of a day I had, I knew I could walk into a class and leave feeling
better. It was hard to believe that there was a place out there where I could
go that was guaranteed to make me feel better about myself and my situation. This
was unlike anything I’d experienced before.
Yoga opened my eyes to the fact that things didn’t always
have to be so dark. If you attend yoga classes at studios, you’ll commonly see
the teachers and the students end the class by taking their hands to their
hearts and bowing to one another. “Namaste,” they’ll say. Roughly translated
this means, “the light in me honors the light within you”. Each time I
practice, it becomes easier to accept the darkness within me, as well as the
light.
