Three years ago, I woke up on a Monday morning feeling restless, drained, and unanchored. I wasn’t depressed or grieving, but I felt stuck, as if life had lost its spark. That morning, instead of heading to work after dropping my kids at school, I listened to an inner voice urging me to pause. I took a mental health day, sat in my backyard with coffee and my journal, and tried to quiet my mind through meditation.
When I finished, almost without thinking, I opened my laptop and typed “yoga teacher training” into the search bar. It wasn’t a completely impulsive move I had thought about it for years but that morning something shifted. I found a 200-hour course in Melbourne starting in six weeks. The idea of leaving my kids for three weeks terrified me, but when I asked my mom, nanny, and even work for support, every single door opened with ease. Six weeks later, I found myself in a yoga studio, surrendering to the unknown.
Those three weeks changed me. Beyond learning postures and philosophy, I discovered how much stress and grief my body had stored over the years. I began to unravel the restless energy I’d carried for so long. Returning home, however, was difficult. The fast pace and stress of daily life felt overwhelming. Once again, my inner voice nudged me forward, and soon I was on a pilgrimage to India, ready to deepen the healing journey I had started.
That voice had been with me all along, even through my darkest chapters. Years earlier, while pregnant with my daughter, I was caring for my husband, who struggled with severe mental illness. Despite hospitalizations and treatment, he spiraled into alcohol abuse and self-destruction. Eventually, I came home one day to the unimaginable he had taken his own life. I was left widowed, raising two children under the age of four.
The weight of grief, trauma, and responsibility nearly broke me, yet a quiet part of me always whispered, “You’ll be okay.” I didn’t always believe it, but I carried it with me. That inner resilience is what eventually led me to yoga, meditation, and the search for something more.
India brought profound experiences I still struggle to explain. From unexpected physical sensations during meditation to a powerful kundalini awakening at an ashram, I felt layers of pain and limitation peeling away. One of the most moving moments came when I tied a string to a “love tree,” symbolizing my readiness to release the past and open my heart again. Surrounded by women who held me in unconditional love, I cried tears of freedom.
When I returned home, I realized I couldn’t dive back into life as it was. I gave myself permission to rest, spend time with my children, and simply breathe. During that space, new love quietly entered my life not the kind from fairy tales, where a prince rescues you, but the kind that grows when you’ve already learned to rescue yourself.
Looking back, my story is not about yoga alone, or travel, or even finding a partner. It’s about remembering that real healing comes when you strip away the noise of expectations, trauma, and social norms. It’s about reconnecting with the deepest parts of yourself, even when the journey feels lonely or painful.
Today, I know that happiness doesn’t depend on external circumstances. Love, freedom, and joy already exist within us; we just have to clear away the layers to feel them. My journey has taught me that once you experience that kind of awakening, there’s no going back. You change. You live differently. You learn that “happily ever after” isn’t about waiting for someone else it’s about choosing to live in alignment with love, every single day.
