Quitting Alcohol Was a Natural Extension of Yoga

I had my first taste of wine at age 3 or 4. My Dad had “trained” me to take a sip of wine and say, “It’s a good vintage, but not a great vintage.” I was a hit at dinner parties. It was the 70s, and apparently adults were starved for entertainment. It wasn’t until years later that I learned what a vintage was. Oh, Dad…

My parents got divorced when I was 10 and it sent me into a tailspin. I was depressed, and neither of my parents could handle my emotional needs well or at all. By eighth grade, I was experimenting with cigarettes and weed while swiping drinks from the liquor cabinet with friends.

I was a shy and anxious kid, consumed by big feelings and perfectionism, neither of which I understood. Using cigarettes and alcohol made me feel included, lowered my inhibitions, and got me out of my shell. I became adept at numbing my loneliness, depression, anxiety, and feeling like I didn’t matter. I mostly numbed with TV, food, and eventually boys, sex, and alcohol.

Despite being relatively successful in school and ending up at a good college (as was expected of me), I continued to numb. I learned how to stay busy, scheduling my day to the minute, racing from one thing to the next. If I kept busy, I didn’t have time to feel my feelings. I also continued to numb with alcohol and sex.

When I was in my early 20s, I had graduated from college and was living in New York City, pursuing a dance “career” while teaching swimming to support myself. I say “career” because very few people, especially in the 90s, could support themselves through dance alone. I often joke that I taught swimming to support my dance habit. “Habit” seems more fitting than “career.”

I danced pretty steadily, moving from one gig to another—all small, mostly unpaid jobs. I found joy through movement and was excited to be able to perform in small theaters, dance festivals, and the like.

One of the choreographers I worked and studied with encouraged me to start taking yoga classes. She had performed professionally, so she knew what she was talking about. At age 22, I thought I knew everything and brushed off her suggestion, because what could yoga give me that I wasn’t already getting from dance? Little did I know…

Finally, I relented, stepping into my first yoga class at age 23. It was at the gym where I taught swimming. The yoga room was this horrible little space with padded floors and walls and two tiny, filthy windows. I grabbed a mat, did some pre-class warm-ups that I did before dance class, and waited for the teacher to arrive.

The teacher was a gruff older woman who barked commands at us. “Turn your foot 90 degrees. Place your hand on your shin. Look at your thumb.” There was nothing kind or gentle about her. She would come by and slap at your leg if you were hyperextending your knee (ahem, me for example). She expected you to practice correctly, with “perfect” alignment, and she would let you know when you were “doing it wrong.”

While this first experience wasn’t ideal, afterwards I felt strong and relaxed. Practicing yoga felt natural to me, as an enjoyable physical movement. I decided to try again, but with a different teacher.

My next teacher was kind and gentle. He gave all the same types of cues, but in a way that didn’t feel like a drill sergeant. He was encouraging, helping everyone in class feel welcome and part of the community. The precision of this style of yoga (Iyengar) appealed to my perfectionist nature. There was a “right” way to practice, and I worked hard to perfect my poses, just like I worked to perfect my pirouettes in dance.

After a few yoga classes, I got into the water to swim and my stroke felt different. I slid through the water, feeling present and more connected to my body. I remember thinking, “Hmm. There might be something to this yoga stuff.”

I continued for a year with the same teacher, practicing 4-6 times per week. After a while, though, I found myself getting stuck in my head. The aspect of this practice that initially appealed to me was starting to hold me back. I would spend my time in each pose, not feeling the pose, but with my mind racing around from body part to body part, making sure that it was in exactly the right place, doing exactly the right thing.

This was the first indication that my perfectionism was holding me back, though I didn’t realize that at the time. It would be another 20 years before I finally set down perfectionism and kicked it to the curb. What I did know was that I needed something else.

During this time, I was also drinking every weekend and going home with someone new each time. When I drank, I could get out of my head and just have fun. Eventually, I met someone who became my husband. I married him when I was 24, after 8 months of dating.

We moved downtown and I joined a gym closer to me. These yoga classes were Jivamukti style, a dynamic form of Vinyasa yoga. While Iyengar yoga is full of static poses that you hold for long periods of time, Vinyasa yoga is a flow, where you move from one pose to the next, following your breath.

Combining the breath with the movement completely changed my practice. I felt even more connected to my body, but also to my mind and heart. The movement appealed to the dancer in me, allowing me to glide through the poses, with no time to get stuck in my head. My body knew what to do, and I could just breathe and be. I felt free.

The more I practiced yoga, the better I felt. I was less anxious and more engaged with my life. While I still raced from one thing to the next, like taking 6-8 yoga classes a week while also working full time, I felt more spacious inside. I felt comfortable in my body for the first time in my life, and I started to feel a sense of control over my thoughts. I numbed less because I didn’t need to. I felt present and alive.

As I integrated yoga into my life on and off the mat, letting go of alcohol was a natural evolution. My self-talk was less critical and more kind and loving. I was feeling more open in my heart and mind and less drawn to anything that harmed my body. I didn’t want to drink anymore. 

The last time I consumed alcohol was at the end of 1996, and I haven’t missed it at all.

Over the years, my yoga practice has expanded, shifted, and changed as I have. I started teaching yoga in 1998 and, after more than 20 years of teaching in studios, opened my own online studio in 2021.

My yoga is focused on supporting my aging body (I am now 52) and feeling as strong and mobile as I can for as long as possible. While I have benefitted from the strength, balance, and mobility of practicing poses, the most valuable aspect of yoga has been what it has done to my mind and heart. Yoga is as much a practice of the mind as the body.

I have learned to feel my feelings, rather than numb them. I can now sit with the discomfort of grief, disappointment, anger, frustration, worry, sadness, joy, excitement, boredom, and more, and just let them be.

This is a practice, not a “perfect.” I do still numb with food and my phone on occasion. The difference is that I can fully accept my imperfections. I have built up the inner strength to tolerate the thoughts in my mind, letting go of judging myself and instead embracing self-love.

This clarity and presence wouldn’t have been possible with alcohol in my life. I love being able to feel “all the things” and fully live my life. I am grateful that I gave it up and have never once regretted it. 

Yoga gives me the space to feel my feelings, notice the stories I am telling myself, and realize what is actually true. I have done a lot of work on myself to let go of beliefs from my childhood that weren’t mine (not good enough, too much, a burden, unlovable, etc.), and can instead embrace what is actually true: I’m enough, just as I am. I’m not perfect, and that’s just fine.

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