I am here, again, with an enervating ache in my chest. Sipping air, careful not to choke on the Asian Pacific humidity, as fears of another health issue leave me scanning for the mercy of kind, accepting eyes. Instead, I find judgment in my own pupils. They burn holes through the mirror as I ask—audibly, yet rhetorically—“I thought we were past all this?” Over the part where I doubted my body’s intelligence and its inherent need for rest. Over the part where I let my fears run the show and juggle worst-case scenarios in my head like circus balls.
It was week two of my yoga teacher training in Chiang Mai, Thailand, and I was unraveling. I had come here with high expectations (and equally high anxiety): Return to the place where Lyme ripped my life apart several years earlier—and prove to myself how far I’d come.Read More