My Journey to Peace

I have always been an overachiever. Growing up in a difficult family situation , I thought that I could control the chaos by being the perfect child. I did my chores, got high marks, involved myself in as many activities as I could, was a confidante to my mother and whoever else needed to vent their frustrations. If I performed perfectly, there would be peace in the house, I would be loved, and I would have earned my right to exist.

Despite my frenetic activities, the air at home continued to crackle with barely suppressed rage and despair and my stomach often felt tied in knots. I was the only kid I knew who got the stomach flu and bronchitis every three months. I had the first signs of depression at age 10. I remember thinking, “I wish I could just fade away to nothingness.”

In hindsight, what brought me the most peace during my childhood, was not the constant activity, but the space BETWEEN the activity - the hours I spent BEING rather than doing. These were the times I was absorbed in riding my horse, pretending to be on a high adventures with a friend, doing cartwheels, reading mysteries, creating art, or writing poetry.

My overachieving didn’t help me to achieve the peace I sought – but it was what I knew. It didn’t bring peace, but it did bring satisfaction, recognition, and a scholarship to college, where I believed that any mark less than an “A” would make me unremarkable and therefore a failure. During my undergraduate years I gave up reading for pleasure and almost any kind of play. I drove myself so hard that I broke out in hives.

I received my bachelor’s degree in psychology and sociology from Seattle Pacific University in 1987, but once I left the academic environment, I was lost. I was 3,500 miles from where I grew up but my childhood demons still haunted me. On the positive side, I was finally able to start incorporating more fun into my life -- going dancing with friends until all hours, getting up late, and walking a few blocks to eat giant omelettes at “Beth’s Café” a fixture in Seattle’s Greenlake area.

While working in a low-level office job in an engineering construction company’s human resources department, I met my husband, Greg. He was all about peace and calm. He accepted me unequivocally, never asking me to achieve or change or prove myself. Ironically, this enabled me to relax and begin to discover who I was at my center.

Eventually I went back to school to get my master’s in occupational therapy. Though part of me still held on to the need to achieve, I seldom went to bed after 11:00; spent time laughing; walking , and talking with friends, took up roller blading, and always made sure I read for pleasure before bed. These activites provided a peaceful balance to the grueling academic schedule.

After graduation, we moved to Florida where I began my career as an occupational therapist. Although I loved working with the patients, I was disappointed that insurance companies limited what kinds of treatment I could provide. There was a daunting amount of paperwork, the medical environment was cold and impersonal, and many of my co-workers seemed unhappy. The experience took such a toll on me that I began taking antidepressants.

I also began practicing yoga to deal with the stress. Although my first classes mainly addressed yoga poses, I noticed something happening inside me that went beyond the physical practice. I began to approach my work with much more calm and patience, and my posture began to straighten up (I have scoliosis). After a year of practicing, I felt compelled to share what I knew. I began offering yoga classes after work and obtained my initial teaching certification in Integrative Yoga Therapy.

When one of the units at the hospital closed and left me with a part-time position, I decided to leave the job and work on call while I built my yoga practice. However, the bottom dropped out of our world when Enron collapsed. Greg, who worked at an Enron subsidiary, was laid off. His lucrative income was gone, and I became the breadwinner. I worked 70 and 80 hours a week in while he pursued full-time employment. He continually asked me to drop the yoga idea – it just wasn’t the right time. But I knew I couldn’t drop it. It was my center. I had to pursue it.

Somehow, I found the funds to obtain my professional yoga therapy certification. During this difficult time, the knowledge that I was on my right path was the only thing that gave me any peace at all. In my great wisdom I also decided to go off my antidepressants. Although I weaned myself off very slowly, the withdrawl was ghastly. My heart raced and I felt like my nerves were jumping out of my skin. Although I was a mess inside, I never missed a day of work. I had always been able to compartmentalize my depression and anxiety by throwing myself into my! work and pretending to feel normal, and this was no different. To cope, I began to teach postures for depression and anxiety from Gary Kraftsow’s book, Yoga for Wellness to my classes. It was amazing. I felt like a completely well-balanced person after teaching the class. I knew that eventually I needed to teach others what I had experienced.

Christmas of 2003 was a misery. We visited Greg’s family in Seattle. They bought us Christmas presents but we could not reciprocate. But just when I didn’t think I could feel any lower, the tides began to turn. A private yoga student of mine “happened” to be in the same field as my husband and “happened” to be hiring. Greg began work in January 2004. A few months later, the owner of the studio where I taught asked me to buy her business. Though I had never planned to be a studio owner, I said yes. I began to offer classes on low back pain , menopause, and yes, depression and anxiety . I even opened an art gallery in the lobby, featuring local artists, including myself.

Now, peace comes from being creative in my teaching and my

artwork, spending time with Greg and our three cats, and seeing

friends when I can. Instead of striving and straining to achieve and

control, I’ve found peace by listening to my heart, following

my dream, and providing an atmosphere of healing for others who

seek clarity, and purpose.