How the hell did I get here?

Do you ever have those moments in life where you stop suddenly and say to yourself, how the hell did I get here? Tonight yielded one of those moments. Two particular events prompted this abrupt realization- both directly related to my personal journey in recovery. Tomorrow marks 9 months clean and sober from drugs and alcohol for me. Tonight, I taught a naked yoga class. So what do these events have to do with each other? 

I am in recovery from my own addictive behaviors and habits, alcoholism and bulimia. 

I don't know why I was bulimic. My mother was a feminist and I had a big sister who was a dear role model. I didn't witness either of these women in my life binge, purge, or practice other harmful eating behaviors. I read all the body positive books my mother gifted me. I was active and not over weight. Sure I was bullied in middle school, but no more so than anyone else. Yes, my parents were divorced, but I still had a loving family. I threw up everyday none the less. I would sit in my family's shower to cover the sound and puke until I was devoid of food and thought. I'd push all the chunks down the drain and clean the shower so no one would suspect a thing. I'd be the first to use the restroom in restaurants after dinner and make sure no one followed. Sometimes I wouldn't eat all day, but I'd binge and purge at night. I hated my body. I thought my stomach should be flatter. My thighs thinner. I figured no one could ever love me. I was miserable. Uncomfortable in this human suit. Confused, depressed, lonely. All I wanted was an escape from my suffocating insecurities. 

Then I discovered alcohol, and I had been saved. Saved from having to feel like I wasn't pretty, sexy or smart. Saved from my own obsessive thoughts, and saved from having to feel my emotions. I ran with it. I blacked out in high school and giddily kissed everyone I could find except my boyfriend. Then my behavior quickly turned from innocent and fun to dark and dangerous. My vomiting shifted from choice, to alcohol poisoning. I took a shot, I took off my clothes. I forgot I had to give consent and began to mark up my body and heart with deep, irreversible wounds. 

After high school, I found drugs. I let a lover test his experimental DMT on my developing brain. I snorted cocaine in bathrooms and spent college refunds on copious amounts of synthetic ecstasy. I lied, I cheated, stole... I disrespected my body and mind. I became a horrible role model for my younger sisters, abandoning all the older women in my life had taught me. I slept with men to steal their prescriptions. People used me and took advantage of me, and I them. I threw up in my sleep. I overdosed at concerts. I looked at death with an apathetic eye. I spat in the face of anyone who tried to save me. I got violent. I got sick. I got sexually assaulted. I failed classes. I dropped out of school. I moved across the country, again...and again. I ran from place to place, relationship to relationship, drug to drug.

And yet, no matter how hard I tried, I could never truly escape.

No matter what I took, no matter where I went, there I was. 

Crawling out of these fiercely ingrained habits was not easy. Yoga and therapy helped me to stop throwing up, and today, I can happily say I have not engaged in bulimic behavior in over 3 years.

Letting go of alcohol and drugs was an even harder struggle. I detoxed for days after putting down the drink. I shook, I felt dizzy, I even hallucinated a bit. A few weeks sober, my partner at the time decided he had to let me go. My heart was beyond broken, but I didn't drink. A few months sober, one of my oldest and dearest friends died in a tragic car accident, but I didn't drink. I struggled with new and old emotions. I felt like that little girl who started throwing up just to get outside of herself. But instead of binging and purging, instead of drinking or drugging, I sat with my truth. I sat in my pain. I felt anger. I tasted sadness. I let it run through me...and I was ok.

Today- I taught a naked yoga class. And I didn't care how I looked. I didn't think about my belly or my thighs. I didn't wish I was different or someone else. I felt confident and beautiful. I felt strong. I adjusted the music and gave verbal cues. I flowed through vinyasas with grace beside other people, in their naked human suits. I felt at home in my body. I felt at peace.

I came home, sober, and stayed sober. I didn't have to drink. I wasn't trying to escape myself and my thoughts weren't too much to handle. I made dinner, I played with my dog, I felt at peace.

I've gone from madness to miracles. Chaos to comfort. Spinning to stillness. I went from hating myself and destroying my body, to celebrating my sacred vessel. I've moved from destruction to creation.  From addiction, to yoga. I am forging a new way of living in this body, as myself. And I feel at peace.