Last September, I started on a journey… But it started in May, really. I decided to sign up to train to be a…

Yoga instructor.

A what? Yes, a yoga instructor. But… but… You’re disabled! Why, thank you for noticing.

My Mom loved yoga. She did yoga when I was a kid. I attribute my superior flexibility (not joking) to her. Even with all my fusions, I can still bend over and place my hands flat on the floor. The yoga studio I go to started offering a yoga teacher training back in 2017, and every year on my Facebook memories, I have a post that pops up, sharing their training. I wanted to do it back then, but I didn’t have the money. Every couple years, I shared the post when they’d advertise it, because I longed to do it.

In May, when it came up again, I said to my husband that I really wanted to do it. He told me I should. I told him it wasn’t a great time, kiddo wasn’t doing great, we knew something was up with Mom (but we didn’t know what), things were just all wrong all over, and I didn’t have the money.

“If you continue to wait for the ‘perfect time’, it’ll never happen. Just do it, we will figure the money out.” he told me.

So I did it. Without another thought. Right there at the breakfast table. Two weeks later, we got Mom’s cancer diagnosis.

We started at the end of September and that first weekend was exhausting for me. Two days of sitting on the floor, taking notes, learning ‘yoga moves’, I didn’t know what they hell I had done! I loved it, but it was a lot to expect from my body.

The October weekend was intense, then Mom had her surgery… I spent everyday (but two) for the next month at the hospital. Then our next weekend came around and Mom had surgery on Day one of the weekend and I worried and fretted all day and …

She died the next morning and I did not honestly know if I could keep going. Nothing else mattered. Breathing seemed hard, let alone thinking about learning yoga.

But then I thought about that silly little book, it was one of those ones you used to buy in the grocery store line-up. Like a magazine but smaller? Almost like word search book, and it had all the yoga poses in it. That’s what I learned yoga from with Mom. And while that didn’t make me keep going, it was one of those ‘core memories’ people talk about. I remember the brown carpet of the house we grew up in, standing side by side with Mom, doing yoga.

So, come Wednesday that week, while I wasn’t totally ready, I showed up for class. I didn’t say much, but the women in the group held space for me and while we didn’t know one another well yet, they all expressed their sadness and made me feel so held.

Tonight was our last Wednesday together and as we gathered and completed a meditation together, reflecting on our 9 months together, I felt my Mom’s presence wash over me. It was strange as it wasn’t a sense of sadness but pride and sense of accomplishment.

If I had a cap, I’d toss it! I will soon be (once I register) an RYT 200! I am not exactly sure what my steps are, but step one is complete!