How I Became a Massage Therapist

Recently one of my clients asked me why I decided to become a Massage Therapist.  It's a common question that I get asked often.

I like to think that I was just directed towards this path because I certainly never thought of Massage Therapy as a suitable career choice.  My life has been a series of directed paths.  I never thought I'd be living in New Zealand either.

When I was 16 years old, I was involved in a major car accident.  I was the passenger traveling home in the early morning hours after a Prom party which was at a friend's cottage deep in the woods in Northern Ontario.  There were three of us in the car but at the last minute the person in the front decided to ride with someone else in his 4X4 so I moved up from the backseat into the passenger seat at the front.  The boys sped off ahead and the girl who was driving our vehicle was trying to keep up with them because they knew their way around the windy back dirt roads and how to get back onto the main highway.  We were rally driving and I distinctly recall she was struggling to keep up.  The car we were driving in was an old Ford Escort, not the best car for such conditions.  The boys sped on, losing us along the way.  When we got to the main road, she didn't let up on speed as she was still trying to catch up to the boys and suddenly she lost control of the car.  I remember it like it was in slow motion. 

There's the back seat of the car.  I was lucky to get shotgun.

She hit the soft shoulder and the gravel skidded beneath the tires, she shouted something (I can't recall what but likely a profanity of some sort) and in her panic sharply turned the steering wheel to the left, causing the vehicle to fishtail.  She then sharply turned the steering wheel to the right, and we fishtailed the other direction.  It all happened so fast.  Then the car began to tumble, over and over and over and the passenger seat dislodged and thankfully I was wearing my seat belt because I was suddenly thrust towards the windscreen.  I used my hands to soften the impact of my skull but I still managed to hit the windscreen a few times hard causing it to shatter and leaving me with glass shards in my hands and cutting a huge gash in my left eye.

You can see where my head hit the windscreen on the right

Suddenly we came to a halt as we crashed on our side into a rock cut on the side of the road which ultimately saved us rolling down an embankment.  And then everything went black.

Apparently, two ambulances were dispatched from two separate hospitals because the crash was so bad, they expected two casualties.  News traveled back to the party where our friends were told we were in a very bad accident and prepared for the worst. I'd hate to be in their shoes.

But we both survived.  Miraculously. The paramedics found me, crouched down beside the car, curled up in a tight ball, calmly waiting for someone to arrive .  I had pulled myself out through the window.  I was in shock as I was babbling away to them as though everything was alright, perky and bright as ever.  I don't remember any of that.  The paramedic came to visit me and told me that I gave him very clear instructions to contact my sister and not my mother.

Drugged up on morphine

In hospital, they were stitching up my face when my sister arrived.  She rushed in to where they were treating me, seeing her face and hearing her familiar voice triggered my memory.  She stood over, smiling at me with tears in her eyes as they were stitching me up. She kept saying to me that it wasn't that bad and she asked if I wanted some chocolate.  I never say no to sweets and she sent her husband to the hospital gift shop to buy a basket full of goodies.  I think it's marvelous when I'm fussed over by my family.  It only seems to happen when I'm in hospital!

Shards of glass still in there.

I had suffered a head injury and the impact had caused a patch of hair to fall out, I sustained multiple lacerations to my face and hands but luckily I hadn't broken anything significant other than a hairline fracture in the bone around my eye.  I had shards of glass lodged in my hands which still remain to this day.  I received 14 stitches to my left eye and there was concern that I'd lose my sight.  And I had a compression fracture of my lumbar spine.  I also suffered from short term amnesia.  A whole year of my life had been wiped from my memory.  I recalled people's faces but I couldn't remember how I knew them.  But overall, I was incredibly lucky to be alive. Again.

They were afraid I'd lose sight in this eye

The reason I mention this accident is because this is how I was introduced to Massage Therapy.  As part of my rehabilitation, I began seeing a Registered Massage Therapist.  In Canada, massage therapy is part of the Regulated Health Care Professions Act (RHPA) and Massage Therapists are qualified to work directly with motor vehicle accident claim victims working along with insurance companies for immediate treatment.  It was a pretty great system and I was very lucky.

So for months I received regular massage and chiropractic care which resulted in a full recovery.  At the time of the accident I was doing a double major at a performing arts school in both drama and dance.  The dancing was to my advantage as my body was supple and strong which meant my recovery time was quicker than the average.

When it was time to start applying to universities, I really had no idea what I wanted to do.  I was a bright student and the possibilities were endless.  One of my teachers pulled some strings to get me a summer apprenticeship at a top law firm in Ottawa.  I received the Gold Medal for highest average in my class and I qualified for a number of scholarships to study medicine.  But I wasn't sure that's what I wanted.  I knew I wanted to help people and I thought I wanted to get into cancer research but I couldn't see myself working in a lab and I didn't want to be tied down to study medicine for 8 years and then work in a hospital for the rest of my life.  I wasn't quite sure which direction I wanted to go.

That's when my sister suggested the Canadian College of Massage and Hydrotherapy.  I thought she was nuts but I was intrigued. My main concern was that I wouldn't be strong enough, I was pretty tiny.  But I certainly proved myself wrong!  I was one of the strongest therapists that graduated from the program. 

The initial plan was to study massage and then figure out what I wanted to do with my life LATER.  The massage would give me a strong background in anatomy and physiology and basically it would buy me time. 

You see, I had been living on my own since the accident. I moved out when I was 16 years old because of my mother's alcoholism.  The accident was my ticket out of that house.  I got some money to make a life for myself and that's what I did.  My priority was to make a decent income to support myself.  I didn't want to incur hundreds of thousands of dollars of student loans - that was just way too much pressure for an 18 year old to bear.  My parents were not helping me financially and the only support I had was the moral support and encouragement from my sister.  The Massage School happened to be just a short 1/2 hour drive from where she and her husband lived.  So much to the shock of all of my teachers and guidance counselor, I enrolled in the Class of 1995 at the Canadian College of Massage and Hydrotherapy.  I was their youngest pupil at the time.

In September 1995 I opened up my first studio in Toronto and I haven't looked back.  While all my friends were drinking and partying in university, spending their parents money on educations they'd never use, I was making some really decent money running a successful business in Canada's largest city.  I was only 21 years old.

I feel very blessed that I found my career path so early on and that it suited me so well.  Many of my colleagues have moved on to different careers but I'm still loving what I do, 18 years later.  I believe a big part of my success has to do with the fact that I have always run my own business and I call the shots on when I work and how hard I work.  I take time off when I need it - often taking months off at a time.  In fact, I've taken years off but I always come back to massage because it's my gift and it's as natural to me as brushing my teeth.

This is me working at my studio at Magic Hands

Now I also incorporate yoga therapy and meditation into my practice as well as I know the benefit of treating the body as a whole - not just working the muscles but also expanding and stretching the lungs and the mind.

I'm passionate about what I do.  So when people ask me how did I know I wanted to be a Massage Therapist, the truth is I didn't.  But I know how to listen and to trust my instincts and to allow myself to be directed by God or the Universe or my Higher Power - whatever you want to call it - and to trust that the path will be revealed.

If something is a struggle, chances are, you're not on the right path.  So that's when it's time to look for another route.

I believe things happen in our lives to define us and help us find our purpose.  I'm always grateful for the challenges brought into my life, maybe not necessarily at the time.  But I can look back and see that it was definitely for the greater good.

That which doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger!  That suits me perfectly.

Define "Normal"

In 2002, at the age of 27, I was diagnosed with Essential Hypertension.  I was living in Canada at the time and I had access to some of the best health care on earth.  I saw the top specialists - Cardiologists, Endocrinologists, Oncologists, Nephrologists - and had every possible test they could perform.  I traveled back and forth between hospitals and cardiac centres from Toronto to London.  The results came back normal - there was no physical reason for my incredibly high blood pressure.  The term Essential Hypertension means, "no known cause".

Numbers under 140/90 and over 90/60 are generally considered normal in adults.   The first number, systolic blood pressure, measures the maximum pressure exerted as the heart contracts, while the lower number indicates diastolic pressure, a measurement taken between beats, when the heart is at rest.

 At it's highest, my reading was 210/170.

I was a young healthy woman.  I ate well, I have never smoked, I exercised regularly, I was not under extreme stress.  I did not fit the profile.  But here I was with malignant (potentially life threatening) hypertension.

They didn't have an answer so they just put me on medication.  It started with a basic beta blocker.  They prescribe these drugs to help slow your heart rate down.  They use them to control anxiety and prescribe them to people who suffer stage fright and migraine headaches.  The drugs worked for a while, but they slowed me down too.  For the first time in my life, I started putting on weight.  Beta blockers slow your metabolism and mine has always been naturally high.  My doctors experimented with the dosage because my BP was inconsistent.  Sometimes it was incredibly high for no apparent reason and then it would suddenly drop down to below average which would make me incredibly tired.  When it was high, it was dangerously, scarily high.

I've never been one to take pills.  I really hated taking the beta blockers but I was terrified of what might happen if I didn't.  The doctors put so much fear in me so I took the drugs even though they weren't actually helping.  In fact, they were messing around with my body.  The side effects were awful - weight gain, lethergy, sore throat, cold hands and feet, depression.  They prescribed anti-depressants to counter the side effects.  Reading this now as I write, I cannot believe I fell for it!  But I was told that if I didn't take these drugs, I could have a heart attack, stroke or eventual renal failure.

I sought advice from one of my cancer specialists - my childhood oncologist.  This man saved my life and was like a father to me.  There was speculation that somehow the chemotherapy had aged my organs and I had the heart of a 60 year old.  He looked at me with great love and concern and he said, "Live your life to it's fullest and get life insurance."  It wasn't easy to hear, but I appreciated his candor.  He was absolutely right.  Life is too short.

So I took his advice.  I needed to re-evaluate things.  I planned to start traveling again and ended up coming to New Zealand (that's a whole OTHER story).

I was so afraid I was going to die, it was always in the back of my mind.  I found a doctor in New Zealand who continued to fill me with fear.  The beta blockers stopped working and even though I was on the highest dosage, my BP began to spike.  The doctor prescribed ace inhibitors which relax the blood vessels to allow for easier blood flow.  A side effect of the ACE inhibitor is kidney failure (which just so happens to be one of the possible outcomes if I don't take ANY medication), so to counteract that she added a diuretic to take pressure off the kidneys.  Wouldn't I be better off not taking anything at all and leaving it to chance?  Unfortunately, it wasn't clearly explained to me. This was all new to me, it was like learning a whole new language. I trusted her judgment. I HAD to trust her judgment.  She's a doctor after all.  Surely she had my best interest in mind.

Those shocked my system into submission for a while but the BP began to rise a few months later so the doctor added a calcium channel blocker to the cocktail which dilates the arteries allowing for more oxygen to get to the heart.  The doctor kept telling me that we needed to get this blood pressure under control before it created irreversible damage to my organs.  But what damage was this medication causing?  She didn't know the answer to that. Well, she probably had some idea but she wasn't sharing it with me.

I was taking more medication than the 96 year old lady I was caring for at the time.  This can't be "normal".

I was gaining weight, I was depressed and I was losing myself.  Suddenly I was dependent on pills to "keep me alive".  I lived in constant fear and felt like a victim to my own health.  What a horrible way to live.  I became afraid to travel in case I needed more medication or needed my doctor. 

Then my biggest fear of all happened.  I developed another tumor on my remaining ovary.  This has nothing physically to do with my high blood pressure - but I believe it has everything to do with my fears.

At the time I didn't see the link.  I was a victim remember.  Westernized medicine loves creating victims.  They feed off us, we feed off them.  It's a very unhealthy co-dependent relationship.

I had a radical hysterectomy at the age of 32 (uterus and ovary removed) which threw me into medical menopause.  I did not want to take hormones - I tried taking the birth control pill once when I was 17 but my body did not respond well to it. Proof that I listened to my body then and trusted my own intuition when it came to taking synthetic man made "pills".  Once again I sought the advice of my Oncologist in Canada.  He agreed, I needed to go ahead and have surgery before the tumor became aggressive but he advised me to stay away from hormone replacement therapy (HRT) due to my medical and family history.

However, my surgeon in New Zealand told me that she would not do the hysterectomy unless I promised to take HRT.  She felt I was too young to be without estrogen and I was putting myself at risk for developing osteoporosis and developing heart disease and my GP strongly supported her.  Obviously they were both fully aware of my acute hypertension and it is a well known fact that HRT raises blood pressure.  They assured me that HRT was harmless and perfectly natural - it was made from pregnant mare's urine.  Ah, completely natural to consume horse's urine.  Horses that are bred to be kept in foal so scientists can make a pill from their urine.  That makes so much sense!  It didn't even occur to them that hormones will naturally regulate themselves or that the ovaries aren't the only organ we have that makes estrogen.  At the time I didn't know this either.  I trusted my highly educated surgeon and doctor because I was under their care.  And medical menopause hits you like a tonne of bricks.  I needed help and I was desperate and frightened and I was doing this all on my own.

The cycle of fear continued. 

I started doing my own research which showed that taking HRT not only raises blood pressure, it also increases your chances of developing breast cancer (a strong gene in my family) and having a stroke (also a strong family link) and brought these up with the doctors.  They dismissed the claims and still felt that the risks of not taking drugs outweighed the risks of being on them.  I began learning more about the endocrine system and how our pituitary gland plays a very significant role in regulating hormones.  I kept reading and researching for the next two years.

I was on 4 different types of blood pressure pills and taking HRT at the age of 32.  I gained 12kgs and didn't know who I was anymore.  Have you ever seen those sumo wrestler suits?  That's how I suddenly felt, like I was trapped in a sumo suit.  My self esteem and self confidence plummeted. 

I struggled to deal with my weight for two years.  My doctors were apathetic, advising me to accept the changes my body was going through.  This was "normal" and everyone gains weight as they get older.  All the books I read about menopause said the same depressing things.  Basically I was going to get fat, get wrinkles, become miserable and my vagina was going to shrivel up and turn to dust.  According to them, life ends at menopause.

What a load of rubbish!  Someone needs to change this!  I need to change this!!!  Someone has to write a book about how you can learn to enjoy menopause.

I decided to stop taking the HRT.  I went off it cold turkey.  The worst of the symptoms were the hot flushes and insomnia but otherwise I think I was pretty lucky.  I just dealt with it.  Seriously, it wasn't as bad as some of the side effects of the medications.  Menopause is part of life.  Deal with it.  We are conditioned to take pills to avoid dealing with things.

I went back to my doctor to talk to her about my decision. She was not impressed with me at all.  My main concern was the history of breast cancer in my family, and the fact that I've had ovarian cancer.  I wasn't prepared to risk losing the last of my "femininity".  She suggested I make an appointment with a geneticist to find out whether I carry the breast cancer gene.  I asked her, "And what if I test positive for that gene?  Then what?"  She told me that the responsible thing would be to consider preventative measures and have my breasts removed.  WHAT?!

I walked out of there and I never went back. This was insanity!  The time had come to take control of my own health again.  It was my wake up call.

How on earth did I ever allow myself to get so dependent on this messed up health care system?  When did I stop listening to my body and stop trusting it?  Somewhere along the way, I lost my connection with myself.

It's not all that uncommon, most of us do.  We forget that we have the ability to heal ourselves.  I forgot, and I'm in the natural healing business!  Fear has a way of taking away our control.  Fear consumes us.

I knew that somehow my high blood pressure was linked to emotions I'd been suppressing. I found a Holistic Homeopathic GP and so began my journey back to health.  I was anxious to get off the medicinal "cocktail of drugs" which were now making me feel worse than I ever felt before I started taking them.  I was advised to wean myself off, but I just stopped taking them cold turkey.  At first my BP was all over the place as my body was readjusting.  Taking the drugs inhibited my body's natural rhythm, it struggled to function on it's own again and my doctor kept having to reassure me that I wasn't going to die.  She was supportive and caring - what you'd expect a physician to be.  She trusted me so as a result, I trusted her.

I was going through withdrawal.  There is no official support system in place for mainstream pharmaceutical withdrawal.  That must be against human rights, surely?

This is when I began doing yoga daily and started putting myself first.  I hadn't looked after myself for a long long time.  As the fear subsided, my entire perception changed and as a result so did my body.  It didn't happen overnight.  It was a slow steady incline over 3 years.  I had to be disciplined and consistent. It was not an easy climb.  I filled my life with positive, encouraging people and ended relationships that drained me.

Yoga helps to balance the endocrine system. It awakens the glands that regulate all of the hormonal systems in our bodies - the pituitary and the pineal glands in our brain, the thyroid in our throat, our adrenal glands which happen to sit on top of the kidneys and finally the ovaries (which had been cancerous).  There is no question that all of these glands were not functioning properly for much, if not all of my life.  The adrenal glands in particular are responsible for regulating blood pressure.  They make adrenalin - our fight flight hormone.  Something I've done my whole life - fight or flight.  This was where the problem was even if no medical tests could prove it.  I instinctively knew I needed balance.  So that's what I did.

Today, I no longer have high blood pressure.  Actually, that's not entirely true, I should say I am no longer diagnosed with high blood pressure.  From time to time my BP has random "spikes" which I have accepted as my "normal". I just vibrate at a higher frequency, more like a humming bird than a falcon. It's my body's indicator that I need to stop and breathe.  This is when pranayama (breathing) and meditation are crucial.  This is also when I know I need a massage and do more yoga.  This is now my medicine.

I'm a healthy size 8/10 (size 6 in North America).  I've gone through menopause and no longer have any symptoms.  I feel better than ever.  It takes 7 years for all the cells in our bodies to regenerate completely.  Every 7 years we get a whole new body!  I'm halfway there. 

We can all become victims.  This was a great lesson for me to experience first hand.   As soon as you "think" you are unwell, you become unwell.  Our thoughts become us.  Trust your intuition.  You know your body better than anyone else.  Don't let anyone tell you what "normal" is.  What the heck is "normal" anyway?

The Oxford Dictionary defines normal as:  conforming to a standard; usual, typical, or expected. 

There you have it.  Conforming.  That's a very dirty word!  No one should conform.  EVER.  

It's official.  I am SO NOT normal.  Thank God!

I love this quote from Buddha:

To enjoy good health, to bring true happiness to one's family, to bring peace to all, one must first discipline and control one's own mind. If a man can control his mind he can find the way to Enlightenment, and all wisdom and virtue will naturally come to him. 

Take control of your thoughts.  Think positively.  Be kind to yourself.  Follow your path. This is your life.  Live it well. 


If you've read this and feel you're struggling to regain control of your health, please leave a message.  I'm happy to help in whatever way I can.  

***Note:  This is my own personal journey and my story.  I am in no way suggesting that people do what I did and stop taking their medication.  This is incredibly risky and you must be in the care of a doctor.  If you don't feel that your doctor is listening to you, it is okay to get a second, third, forth, fifth... opinion until you find someone who will help you and listen to your needs.  There are some great mainstream Westernized Medical doctors out there.  They aren't all narrow minded.  

The Beautiful Truth

 I am now a Teacher of Ancient Traditional Hatha Yoga.  The course was amazing, very intense and incredibly powerful in the way that it opens your body,  your mind and lifts your energy to places you never thought you'd go (again).

The word yoga means 'unity' or 'oneness' and is derived from the Sanscrit word yuj which means 'to join'.  This unity or joining is described in spiritual terms as the union of the individual consciousness with the universal consciousness.  On a more practical level, yoga is a means of balancing and harmonizing the body, mind and emotions.  This is done through practicing asanas (postures), pranayama (breathing), mudra (gestures), bandha (holds), shatkarma (cleansing practices), and meditation (focusing the mind).  All of these practices must be achieved before union can take place with the higher reality.

The science of yoga begins to work on the outermost aspect of the personality, the physical body, which for most people is a practical and familiar starting point.  When imbalance is experienced at this level, the organs, muscles and nerves no longer function in harmony, rather they act in opposition to each other.  For instance, the endocrine system (the glands in our bodies which produce hormones) might become irregular and the efficiency of the nervous system decrease to such an extent that a disease will manifest. 

Yoga aims at bringing the different bodily functions into perfect co-ordination so that they work for the good of the whole body.

So as you might imagine, 25 days on an ashram practicing this would have a profound effect, and it did. I would like to clarify that yoga is not all about becoming a pretzel.  You do not need to be super flexible to practice it.  I'm not and neither were the other 12 women on my course.  Everyone has their flexible areas - mine is in the spine and shoulders.  I am not very flexible in my narrow (non child bearing) hips.  That's just how God made me.  So I have to work at it every day and eventually I will become more flexible.   They say we hold emotions in our hips.  As you begin to open up this area, it is important to be aware of how it may open up a whole lot of emotions too. 

We happened to start with hip opening.  As we went through the various types of postures - which are grouped into these emotional releasing areas (conveniently enough), it brought up a lot of "stuff".  Stuff I thought I dealt with through years and years of therapy.  Stuff I didn't want to deal with again.  Stuff that made me feel very exposed and very vulnerable and very insecure.  It was both fascinating to see how profoundly the yoga was waking up these energy blockages and at the same time it was frightening.  But what a wonderful place to have to go through it - with 12 incredibly warm and loving women who weren't going to pass judgment (because they were on their own personal journeys themselves and understood the process). 

I was out of my comfort zone and as a result, I really didn't know WHO I was.  I'm used to being quite confident and clear when I'm talking to people about anatomy and physiology and how it relates to massage, but I discovered my fear of being looked at and my discomfort at watching others perform.  A bit difficult when you're trying to become a yoga teacher!  Combine this with how the yoga postures were opening up my own personal can of worms... and you might just imagine how this is going to pan out!

We had to teach our first 30 minute class to the others within a week.  Grouping asanas (postures) together was easy enough for me but I was SO nervous teaching.  I couldn't LOOK at anyone!  I kept my nose buried in my notes.  I was terrified to look up.  Bizarre (but such an interesting observation).  A week later we had to teach our first 1.5 hour class.  I practiced and I wrote an excellent routine and really challenged myself (perhaps my first mistake) by using complicated postures and even adapting a few to make them a little different.  I even asked to be in the room with our Swami Shantimurti observing (he's tough) so clearly I FELT ready. 

I didn't sleep the night before.  It was a combination of excitement and nerves and it was the coldest night of the year.  So I got out of bed at 4am and lit the fires in the sadana room (where we practice) and in the main yoga house (where another group also practices).  I should just mention that while living on an ashram, we all share chores, one of the chores is lighting fires.  This job is given to two people to tend to for one week and then it switches.  As a "Fire Fairy" its your responsibility to wake up a little earlier to light fires to heat the rooms up to make the classes more pleasant.  It wasn't my job but I wanted to make the rooms nice and warm for my class.  When people began to wake up, they all seemed uncharacteristically grumpy.  They were pissed off at "whoever lit the fire at 4am and woke them up".  Great start to the morning.  Never mind that the house and sadana room were warm. No thank you at all from the fire fairies or anyone else.

My personality naturally wants to make people feel better.  So when people are grumpy, I want to make them smile.  I had structured my class around the Anahata (heart) chakra which opens the energy in the heart space and makes you feel full of love.  However, I wasn't expecting that people weren't in that sort of mood.  I taught my class, standing up at the front with a smile and looking back at a bunch of tired, grumpy faces.  That THREW ME RIGHT OFF.  Suddenly I got very fearful and proceeded to teach my class with absolutely no confidence.  Damn.  It was such a good class too.   

Afterwards, everyone critiques your class and tells you what they liked and what they didn't like and how you can improve for next time.  It's not easy sitting up there while people pick things apart but the positive points make it all worthwhile.  But on this particularly grumpy day, people forgot to say what they liked about the class.  The only criticism I got was that I needed to be more confident.  Duh.  No fricken kidding!  Then Swami Shantimurt had his turn.  He told me that I needed to stop trying to intellectualize with the class and really learn to connect with them (yep) and that I should never apologize or explain myself EVER (I did this a few times as I thought they were unhappy with holding some of the harder postures) and that there was no place for personality while teaching yoga (WHAT? How do I do THAT?).  He proceeded to emphasize some of the words I use as fillers (when I'm nervous) such as "really, and, just, gonna"... and repeated them over and over.  I got it.  I felt stupid enough already.  Just stop please.  Stop.  

I started to get angry!  The anger began bubbling up and I felt I was about to burst.  I didn't have a chance to speak! I tried to open my mouth but I didn't know what to say!  My false frozen smile was beginning to slide.  Surely they had something NICE to say?  I'm always nice when I give my feedback to THEM.  I began to feel very let down by my peers and I was incredibly disappointed and embarrassed.  Two of the major compliments that Swami Shantimurti gave me - that I will be a great yoga teacher and that one of the postures I created actually made him want to get down on the floor and try it - didn't register.  I focused on the criticisms he made.  So I politely excused myself to use the toilet - and I WALKED OUT.  I threw on my gumboots and I walked to the beach and I just kept walking!!

Thank goodness there wasn't a soul on the beach because I started to scream and cry, I was SO upset!  It was a cold day and I didn't have a jacket but I was so stubborn.  I kept walking for miles.  If I could have, I would have walked home.  I reached the end of the beach and I sat there for hours, sitting in the cold wind punishing myself.  My anger and disappointment by feeling let down by others began to turn inward.  Why?  Why do I allow people to think it's okay to talk to me or treat me like this?  Why do people treat me like I don't know what I'm talking about? Because... I allow it.  How can anyone respect me if I don't respect myself?  By being openly fearful, I'm showing that I'm not confident and when I don't appear confident, I don't appear to know what I'm doing or talking about.  If I want to achieve my goals, if I want to work with people and have them respect and feel inspired by me, I have to be very SURE of what I'm doing.  Major breakthrough.

***I would like to add here that these women are not horrible nor were they purposely being mean or picking on me.  It wasn't like that at all.  It's just that the day before we had done some intense hip opening postures which as I already mentioned, stirs up a lot of emotions.  It was just a bad day for everyone and no one was perky or positive that day. I am just writing how I felt in that moment but it's not a personal attack on anyone. 

But I was still angry. My new mantra was "eff it", I didn't give an eff what anyone thinks.  I made a promise to myself to never say sorry again (an impossible thing to promise as I AM Canadian and we say sorry a lot). I walked back to the Ashram (because I had no where else to go) though I really just wanted to be alone.  I found it difficult to be around others while I was processing these emotions.  I knew I wasn't angry at them but I WAS angry and it's hard as a people pleaser to be angry in the company of others.  I'm so glad they didn't try to make me feel better.  They let me be in my anger... and suddenly I became invisible.  Invisibility, the thing that I hate the most, yet a place where I feel safe.  It was all making so much sense.

I couldn't function very well during the afternoon so I went for a nap and I slept straight through until the next day - a 14 hour nap!  I was invited to join the morning sadana by Swami Atmalokananda and to be honest, I could've stayed in bed.  My friend Anger was still there, with me the whole night, and didn't want me to get up.  I dragged my invisible self out onto my mat and joined in the class with tears streaming down my face the whole time.  How embarrassing, but I couldn't stop and I had no energy to try.  I succumbed to whatever was working through me.  Although I felt quite uncomfortable processing these emotions openly (I don't like others feeling uncomfortable) the women were wonderful and allowed me to be invisible. 

I felt like I was shutting down entirely.  My body didn't want to move, I felt so rigid and I couldn't get myself into the postures.  I couldn't seem to speak. I couldn't find my voice or the words to express my feelings.  I felt utterly and completely lost.  I wanted to curl up in a ball and die.  All I could to do was cry.  What the hell am I doing here?  I don't even WANT to teach yoga!!

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One of the women on this course had become a "Journey" counselor, a powerful process which helps you overcome challenges from physical ailments to emotional trauma or shut down in relationship problems and career performance issues.  So after they all ate lunch (my body didn't want to eat), she came into my room and began to talk me through the journey process (she seemed to instinctively know she needed to ignore my invisibility trick).  I knew what she was doing and although I was really afraid to go through the process, I didn't really have a choice.  I was immobilized and powerless.  For an hour and a half, we went through the layers of emotions that I've packed away in neat piles in my subconscious for so many years.  As she talked me through another emotion, I felt guilt and shame that she had to see this side of me.  I thought I dealt with this stuff but I'd only folded it and tucked it away where I hoped no one could find it (more importantly where I would never find it).  But it was there, with all the other folded emotions.  No wonder my primary feeling was anger.  I had suppressed so much of this and never allowed myself to FEEL.  Layer after layer we removed the emotions and put a name to them and as we worked my memory went deeper and deeper into the past, into my subconscious. 

The emotions connect themselves to memories that you long forgot, from the perspective of a child or a less evolved version of your psyche.  Perspective.  That's all this is.  Change the perspective, change the emotion.  So for example, in my case it went back all the way down to infancy, of being born.  Here's a fact:  90% of our conditioning occurs in the womb.  I'll repeat that, 90% of our entire conditioning, of how we think, act and feel TODAY occurs in the womb.  Staggering isn't it?  So in my case, I know that although I was conceived from love, I was an "accident" and I know that at the time my mom was pregnant with me, she was incredibly confused and conflicted about whether she should proceed with the pregnancy.  Remember, this was the 1970's in a small Northern Ontario town which was predominantly Catholic.  My mom had 4 children and was in the middle of a rather scandalous separation.  My own father was nearly a decade younger than her, a "fling" whom she fell madly in love with but knew she could never be with.  As a tiny baby, I didn't breastfeed well and I stopped breathing spontaneously (SIDS).  For this reason, my mom had to carry me in a sling and give me mouth to mouth when I'd stop breathing. When I was 6 months old, my mom sent me to live with my grandparents.  I'm not sure the story there, why I was sent away. As a result, I never felt wanted. I didn't belong.  I didn't fit the mold.  My birth was a burden.  I changed the dynamic of my family. I was different, I looked different (like my dad) and I had a different personality.  I tried to become as invisible as possible in that family.  I didn't want to rock the boat or stand out.  As a kid, I wished my magic power was to have an invisible cloak or to time travel.  I wished I was adopted.  Isn't that interesting?  My anger comes from disappointment.  Disappointment in the people I love not seeing me or understanding me or wanting me.  My perspective is understanding that I have been wearing an invisible cloak around them for years.  They couldn't understand me if they couldn't see me.  How can someone want what they can't see?  I never allowed them to get to know what made me special.  I hid from them.  I was scared of them.  As a result, whenever I feel hurt or disappointed or afraid, I disappear.  I move away, I lose contact, I vanish.

So at the end of the session, after I'd done the work that needed to be done, all there was left was love.  God's love, pure and real.  I wouldn't be here if he didn't want me to be here.  No matter how hard you try to be invisible, you can't disappear from Him.  I already know that consciously, but subconsciously it never sunk in.  And that changes everything. 

From there, I changed.  I emerged like a butterfly.  I got far more out of the course than I ever imagined and now I'm so excited to teach what I learned, from my own emotional and energetic perspective, to others who feel they not only need to stretch their bodies, but their minds and their emotions as well.

I was given my Yogic Sanscrit name by Swami Shantimurti.  He chooses your name by your birth chart.  The name I was given is Satyarupa (pronounced Sut-ya-ru-pa).  Satya means Truth and Rupa means Beauty.  The beautiful truth - that is who I am and that is who God made me to be.

I learned a very important lesson about ego that day.  Being a yoga teacher isn't about you, it's about walking your students through their own journey in whatever cloak they choose. To recognize when that cloak is a cover for what they aren't yet ready to deal with or reveal.  And being there when it comes off, with a big anahata smile (because that makes everyone feel better).

Hari Aum Tat Sat.  This self realization is just beginning.  AUM.