Breaking Up With Yoga

So I'm not exactly breaking up with yoga per se--more like casually seeing. I still try to do yoga at least 3 times a week (often with my favorite yogi YouTubers Adriene and Kassandra), but I'm taking a little break from capital-y "YOGA." I've been doing this for a while now, but only now have I gotten comfortable in distancing myself from an identity that was integral to this blog (it was, after all, the second necessity).

I have no qualms with the actual physical practice of yoga. As someone who suffers tremendously from anxiety disorder, I attribute yoga to my increased sense of calm, as well as my ability to make rational decisions and maintain a positive attitude. I have also struggled with disordered forms of eating and self-loathing for roughly 9 years, and yoga has taught me intuitive eating and self-care. It is a practice I hope to carry with me for the rest of my life.

But, for peace of mind and acceptance, I have to finally shed this "yogini" identity.

From the start of this blog, I struggled with feeling like I didn't quite fit in the yoga world. I reconciled this point by coming up with "Lipstick Yogi" trend, and deeming myself oh-so-clever. I had discussed feeling like an imposter, an outsider far more than interested anyone other than myself. I thought maybe there was something wrong with me, and that if I just drank a green smoothie or did sun salutations at 5am every day, I would be more "spiritual."

Only now can I propose that maybe there is something wrong with yoga.

In fall of 2015, I applied for a yoga teacher training based on the studio owner's suggestion that I do so. From day one of my yoga teacher training, I felt like something was off. I never clicked with the owner, and I felt expected to pour heaps of money into the studio because I was an active member there for so long. I got the sinking feeling that each lecture with the owner was an episode of "stars: they're just like us!". I was also expected to miss a week of college classes (something that was never mentioned when I registered for the training) to go to India and pay for the owner's meditation retreat because she just felt that "it was right." When I brought up my concerns with the owner, she gathered the teacher trainers together for a meditation practice and said "see, I did this for you."

While I was upset and confused about seeing a place that I loved and trusted as a manipulative business practice, enough time has passed for my bitterness to fade. However, this extreme wake-up call solidified some of my suspicions about yoga as a whole.

I understand that yoga studios are businesses, and have to make money to survive. But what I can't stand is that most studios are cleverly disguised as therapeutic safe-havens that have no interest in your money--that they are glorified parents, just interested in your well-being. I highly doubt I would have had to register for my studio owner's retreat, had that been the case. Being a holistic center that focuses on self-care is no excuse to not lay out a clear business plan that informs its customers just how much they will be paying, and why. Adding on costs and payments isn't a change in the winds, or an intuition about the well-being of a yogi. It's a scam.

One of the biggest lessons that yoga taught me is, paradoxically, what got me out of yoga. I should have trusted my intuition before walking into that teacher training, and I should have stood up to the owner when she engaged in practices I didn't trust. But I'm also thankful that I stayed as long as I did because it showed me that the studio lifestyle might not necessarily be for me, and I can do without the spiritual accessories of yoga.

So, in light of this change, I have decided to take this blog in a different direction. As yoga is no longer a primary necessity in my life, the original title feels outdated. So, for now, we'll call this "coffee, kitties, and corruption," as I'm a sucker for alliteration, adore coffee and cats, and cover issues of corruption in higher ed. It's not a perfect title, but it no longer feels like I'm trying to squeeze into an identity that no longer fits.

Hey 6 years into a blog, change is bound to happen.