Like most people, I started Yoga to become flexible. At the beginning, it was just a fun way to work out. Something I did here and there—among other things. But life had other plans…I didn’t know it back then but Yoga was about to change my life in the most profound ways.
Fast forward to today, and I’ve been practicing and teaching Yoga for over 10 years. I often tell my students jokingly that putting their leg behind their head won’t change their life. But the process to get there might.
As a part of my lifelong commitment to give back what I’ve learned, I wanted to share with you the three most meaningful ways Yoga has changed my entire world.
1) It helped me build a healthy relationship with food
I have been obsessing about my weight since a very young age. I remember in my twenties I would weigh myself at least twice a day, count calories and try different restrictive diets—all in an attempt to control how I looked. I was going to the gym not to become healthier but skinnier.
When Yoga came into my life, I had no idea what intuitive eating was. All I cared about was not putting on weight. I was terrified of the idea of not being thin anymore. And still, many nights I would come home after a party and devour whatever was in the fridge. The next day, I would spend several hours at the gym to make up for it. I was constantly feeling guilty, inadequate, unworthy.
Around that time—completely by coincidence (or so I thought)—, I started practicing Yoga daily. Yoga was the one thing in my life that didn’t serve an end goal. I did it because it made me feel good in my skin, more present and more aware. I didn’t do it to become someone else, someone better. And this is why it freed me.
Over time, I became more observant of my habits and patterns. This is what Yoga does to you if you practice on a daily basis: you start noticing all the ways you’ve been trying to hide from yourself and your real needs. I finally saw my futile attempts to control how I looked for what they really were: a desperate way to fill the void inside. But the more I practiced and found meaning and purpose in studying Yoga, the less I cared about perfect looks.
And this is how I finally started befriending my body. I began noticing how different foods made me feel. I read a lot about Ayurveda and nutrition and applied their principles as much as I could. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that Yoga freed me from years of dealing with an eating disorder.
Today, over a decade later, I prioritize health over looks. I eat to nourish and protect my body, not to punish it for not adhering to beauty standards. I don’t starve myself anymore. I also stopped using food as a tool to deal with my emotions, whether by overindulging and regretting it after, or by using food as a reward.
Yoga showed me clearly all the things I refused to see or acknowledge. It was not an easy or fast process but nothing life-changing ever is.
2) It gave me the courage to make uncomfortable changes
At some point in my late twenties I came very close to a full-on burnout. I was working as a corporate lawyer in Paris and on the outside I had it all: a good job, status, a comfortable lifestyle and excellent prospects ahead. Still, as the years went by I felt more and more empty. My work didn’t give me any sense of purpose. I felt stuck but didn’t have the courage to quit.
Then something happened that was about to change it all. I was having a conversation with a good friend who had just quit smoking after he was diagnosed with cancer. I was surprised he managed to quit since he was a really heavy smoker, so I asked him how he did it. His answer was: daily Yoga. This little sentence was destined to become the biggest catalyst of change.
I was practicing on and off back then. I knew Yoga was good for me but I was not committed enough. What my friend said stuck with me for weeks after our conversation. This is when I decided to practice daily. I realized that this practice is much more powerful than I thought, that it had the capacity to really change lives for the better. I wanted that for myself. And I wanted it for other people.
I never stopped practicing again since that day. Daily asana practice led to the study of Yoga philosophy, a teacher training in Thailand and yearly trips to India. Once I was exposed to the vast knowledge of this ancient practice and saw its tremendous potential with my own eyes, I refused to go back to the life I had before.
Two years later I quit my job and started teaching Yoga full-time. I decided to dedicate my life to learning and giving back. In this I found the purpose I had been looking for my whole life. It was a very uncomfortable decision. It was scary and there were no guarantees. I didn’t even know if I was going to be good at it. The only thing I knew was that I had something valuable to say. And in a magical way, people listened.
3) It gave me a sense of safety
I’m a very anxious person. I tend to overthink and worry a lot. As if all this anxiety would shield and protect me if the absolute worst were to happen. When anxiety hits, it feels like I don’t have the right to relax and let go or my biggest fear will materialize. A twisted way my mind has devised to deal with uncertainty.
Being anxious is not a choice. I don’t believe it ever goes away completely. But you can learn to live with it. For me what was really important was to have a safe space that I could access anytime, at any place, without anyone’s permission.
Yoga practice gave me that. I know that no matter what happens, I will always have that. I know that as long as I have a body, and my breath, I can confront my demons—at least temporarily. Even when I’m having an awful day, with the worst-case scenarios playing in my head, an hour on my mat makes everything feel a little less dreadful.
It’s not that the mind stops overthinking and becomes permanently calm. But over time and with long term practice, you learn to recognize the mental chatter for what it really is. Your mind still makes up stories. But you don’t believe them all. And even when you do, the “anxiety crises” last less time and lose their capacity to throw you off the rails for too long.
It sounds like a small thing, but it’s the greatest gift this practice ever gave me.
