Santosha (contentment) and the satisfaction in getting 'older'.

I can remember, looking at my mom as a young kid, and thinking, wow...I don't ever want to be that old, please don't let that happen to me. Not because my mom wasn't a great mom, not because she wasn't attractive (because she was and IS a total babe), and not because she wasn't healthy, or able, but solely because to me, age was a number, a really scary number, that I wanted nothing to do with. I saw her responsibility, the four kids she raised, the numerous jobs she held, and the chores around the house, as a complete disadvantage to her happiness, little did I know her happiness was due to something much larger than getting 'older', but that's a story for another time.

As I started to grow up and understand life little by little, I wanted nothing than to be out of Middle School, away from my High School, I wanted to escape, I couldn't wait for college, I thought, once I get 'older', I will find happiness, this life will start to make a little more sense, I'll make new friends, I'll travel to another universe. So unhappy with my own skin, my own life, now I couldn't wait to get older, with promises that it'll get easier, that I would soon be able to take charge of my life. The funniest thing is, I could have started back then, but I didn't quite understand my personal power as a bitter and angry 17 year old.

College happened, and I still felt like a duck out of water. A huge sore thumb. I spent most of it battling my weight insecurities, cruel dorm neighbors, hours of Orchestral rehersal, I began to learn a whole other level of not being good enough, and wanting to escape. In college, it turned into, well, I just need to practice harder, and longer, and then I can be like Sally, she got a professional gig, and I"ll be like her when I grow up, then I'll be happy. This is also where I started to find self-worth and validation in the male attention I surrounded myself with.

College came and went and like every other aspiring professional musician, who didn't have the balls to be truthful to themselves, the other path I saw was grad school. This time, I wanted to get FAR FAR away. I applied to several conservatories within the East Coast, but my mind was set on going to Denver, so naturally, why not the University of Denver? So I packed up, left my college boyfriend and much loved sisters and mother behind, and escaped, once more. This time, I was sure to find happiness, and completeness. Don't get me wrong, Colorado was unlike any other world I had ever lived in. The people were SO happy, the weather was always cheerful, and I met some of the best people I could have ever imagined. Yet, I was still in search of 'it'. No longer was I afraid of my age creeping higher to the 'old as shit' scale, I became more focused on finding happiness from the outside. Even more than before. Still forcing myself into the box I thought I belonged in, I was torn apart by two different worlds. The world of underground music and classical music. In my life as a classical musician, I dressed the way I was supposed to, avoided any crazy colors for my hair, and even avoided getting tattooed. I was polite, I wore pretty dresses, and dropped the occasional F-bomb. By night, I flipped a complete 180. Put my jeans on, wore whatever band shirt was cool for the month, and let my aggression fly out full force. A journey into my closet would confuse any stylist or sane person. I followed the rules, did what I was supposed to do, and became obsessed with what would make people like me more. I practiced for hours upon end, still with the voice inside my head insisting I wasn't good enough, this time, the voices started to yell I would NEVER be good enough.

I completed grad school in two years, like any studious student, with a GPA of 3.8. Had some of the funniest and amazing friends I could ask for. Even, yes, a great guy, who would do anything for me. But the online flirting didn't stop, the self-loathing never ended, and I started to feel even further away from what was meant for me. This was when I decided once again, to pick up, and run away. This time with a boyfriend and a cat. In 2007 we picked up and moved across the world to Latvia. I tried to seek the root of my problem, which of course, I connected to my dad. How cool would it be? We'd move to Europe, live in a busy city, I'd re-kindle the relationship with my father, and it would be so fabulous. Of course we all know that's not how it worked out, my father and I grew even further apart, as I realized how little I knew about him, and the life he lived. In a city, so beautiful, so full of history, you think I could find happiness. I'd work out with perfectly thin blondes with fake boobs, drink massive amounts of coffee, wake up in the dark, walk home from work in the dark, get my wallet stolen by Russian thugs, I had never felt so alone. Torn between even more worlds. Depression sunk in. Relationships crumbled, bills were unpaid, an online relationship was formed. In 2008, the economy started to crumble. Not only in the US, but in Europe as well. I could tell immediately by the way my dad's disposition shifted, the way he started to treat me, it was all changing. It was time to get out. Once again, I wanted to escape, I found someone who 'understood me', I found someone to run away to, again. 9 months later, I left. In one giant jerk move. I took the cat and moved back to NY. In search of happiness.

You guessed it, this happiness was temporary. Built on a facade of internet cables and time zones, it crumbled as fast as it was built. Devastated, crushed, and hopeless, I am amazed today that I not once, considered trying to end it all. Don't get me wrong, it created an imprint that will never go away, but rather than allowing it to define me, over a time of healing, I allowed it to be just a part of me, part of the person I have become. This, was my Kali moment. We all have at least a few during our lifetime. When the dark goddess laughs at our ego and throws a wrench in our faces. A wrench that forces us to see our reality for what it is, not what we want it to be. I thought that by having someone like me, to commiserate with, that would make me stronger, happier, I didn't know it then, but this is when it all shifted.

Months after not being able to find a job with appropriate pay, I moved back to Denver, with the generosity of friends lending me money, and places to crash. I was back home, or the closest home had felt in a long time. I slowly began to pick up the pieces of my tattered ego. Rejection, after rejection, maybe he was right, maybe I was a habitual monogamist? Maybe I wasn't comfortable in my own skin. I started to pull everything together. Most importantly I had people that made me laugh. I got my first serious job and was really great at it. I began to work on my leadership and my ability to make people stronger through guidance and vulnerability. Someone trusted me to hire people, to do payroll, to create business plans, order started to come back. I started to see who I truly could be, by strengthening myself, and those around me. Don't get me wrong, there still were shitty guys, and online flirting, but the curtains quickly fell on those, and Kali stuck her tongue out once more, to show me I wasn't understanding the point. I needed to be alone. I needed to work through this mess to create the canvas I wanted to call my life.

Once the dust began to settle, the stress, and change, had began to take a toll on my body. And month after eating poorly and being so depressed, I decided to take charge of my life once more, and entered my first Yoga class. I tell everyone who will listen these days, how much that decision shifted my life. Stepping into my first Yoga class as the busy Grant St CorePower Yoga studio, I had never felt so alive, I had never felt I had belonged somewhere as much as I did here. Yogis, all shapes, all sizes, all abilities, united in one place...to sweat, to laugh, and to be so alone, yet so together...all at the same time. This is the first time in my life, that I can remember starting to find that happiness. And it wasn't coming from attention, it wasn't coming from change, it was coming from within. As Yoga does to most of us, I got hooked to the physical aspects, yet it wasn't just the exercise that made me come back, it was how I felt afterwards. How it made my body feel, how it made my mind feel, and how it made me understand and see, that this happiness, it was coming from me!

All these years of anger, aggression, struggling running away, to find my true self, to feel confident in my shell. Little did I know, all I ever would need, would be right within in. My happiness, my contentment, my ability to belong, was within my bones, all along. This is Santosha. Our ability to find gratitude in our past, our stories, and not allow them to define us, but to make them a part of who we are today. I am completely grateful to be experiencing life, now at thirty three, and I know it's only going to get better.

I would NEVER even dream of giving up all the challenges I faced in life, just to make it easier. Because then, I wouldn't be me, I'd be someone else. And trust me, not every day is easy. There are days I allow my old stories to chime in, where the self-loathing is overwhelming, where I never feel good enough, where I self-sabotage, and this, is where the Yoga comes back in. I remember, I am in charge here. And then....I tell those stories to fuck off. This is my life.

This story goes out to all those square pegs trying to fit in round holes, to the shells that never feel like they fit, to those who feel they have to wear a mask to fit in, or must hide, to avoid shame. You are NOT alone. We are in this together. Take your hand to the top of your heart. Everything you've ever needed, it's right there. It always has been.

Good night Yogis.