We All Have Our Unique Stories
Writing this feels incredibly self-indulgent. After all, what makes me so special that you should choose to read my story? Well, the truth is nothing and everything.
Each and every one of us is different, important and special with our own unique histories to be learned and appreciated by the world around us. I like to think of them as an aid to understand our path and choices rather than a definition of who we are now or an oracle for our future journey.
Sharing our stories is an open invitation to those around us to join our journey, and it is one they can choose to accept or decline.
It all began in Hamburg, Germany
Look at that big smile! Impossible to see, of course, but hiding behind that big forehead of mine were all sorts of problems. Born with a neurological defect that meant my brain did not filter external stimuli properly, I suffered from hypersensitive skin, an inability to concentrate, a tendency to be overtly emotional or even aggressive at times, and - ironically - balance problems. I was a stressball from the day I entered this world.
I was also born incredibly lucky. By chance it was discovered that I had broken a collarbone at birth and was sent to a gymnastic therapist - who happened to be a neurological expert! My second stroke of luck was my incredible mother who dragged me to therapy twice a week for five years, painstakingly watched me wail in agony and did everything in her power to change the course of my life.
Living the Teenage “Dream”
Noticed I said mum before and not parents? I don’t want to waste space on my consistently uninterested father, but his absence is of importance. By late childhood, doubts and a feeling of abandonment started creeping in, despite being well cared for: my mum was still incredible, my stepfather had raised me for years as his own. Until it all fell apart.
My stepfather’s bipolar disease increasingly manifested in erratic, destructive behaviour in our business and at home. Affairs, bullying, gambling all became a harsh reality and my mum started disintegrating before my very eyes. Simultaneously I was living my own ‘Mean Girls’ nightmare at school.
Eventually my system started giving in - my hayfever could only be kept in check with cortisone jabs, I was suddenly allergic to most foods and felt nauseous 24/7. I refused medication thinking my problems were too trivial compared to starvation or homelessness and just about managed to step away from suicide out of a feeling of responsibility towards my mum.
Life was pretty bad…
Before they got better, things got worse…
I made it through school, taking strength from the belief that my dream of moving to England would be the miracle cure. After 19 years in Germany, during most of which I felt like I didn’t really fit in, I was desperate to escape both my history and my heritage. Fate had different ideas.
Three months into my gap year absolute disaster struck: my stepfather committed suicide leaving us with hefty debt, criminal investigations, no less than six court cases and crushed dreams. Oh, and remember that father of mine? He questioned paternity less than two months after the funeral.
The hardest thing was seeing the detrimental effects on my wonderful mum. She was fighting like a lion, but life is not fair and she lost every battle. Nevertheless, on 25th September 2005 she sent me off to England, letting me go to process, to recover, to grow. And I will be forever grateful for that.
Distance was my saviour after all
I am not saying it was all smooth sailing. I spent hours in counselling, was socially anxious, worked like crazy and was the ultimate control freak. I was functioning, but I wasn’t living. At the end of my first uni year I finally hit rock bottom, nearly jumping off Bournemouth pier haunted by my own ghosts. In that very moment, I vowed to change things for good.
Over the years, I built my own recovery toolset. The food allergies, which thankfully disappeared, had triggered a focus on ingredients, which evolved into a keen interest in positive nutrition. Running became my stress release, the regular rhythm allowing freely flowing thoughts. Eventually, I found my way into yoga and then never let go of it again, realising the incredible impact it had on my whole person. Life became about finding my very own balance, eliminating the need for excessive control.
Recovery was a long path, but it allowed me to build resilience I didn’t think I was capable of. It was put to the test in 2016 when my now ex-husband left me out of the blue without a job or home after a mere nine months of marriage; I surprised myself with my ability to realign my life and regain my strength.
So what’s next?
In 2018, I finally took a leap of faith and went on that trip to India I had been dreaming off ever since stepping on the yoga mat. It was an unbelievable experience that changed me forever, taking me way beyond just being a qualified yoga teacher. More than ever I wanted to share my learnings, help others build their resilience, find their balance, live their best lives.
I continue to learn and grow every single day, in classrooms and yoga shalas around the world, from books I read and with every experience and personal interaction I have. My life is now filled with deep joy, acceptance, positivity and the belief that being knocked down is nothing less than an opportunity for change.
