A tale of anxiety: don't know what you've got 'til it's gone.

It is amazing what impending doom can do.

I knew for over a year that my previous job would end.

It was the nature of the work I was doing. There were - thankfully - becoming fewer and fewer people that needed the assistance that we provide.

Each day I rode that elevator up to the fourth floor - for over a year - I wondered if that would be the day that I got the call or the email or heard through the grapevine.


That low-level anxiety just built and carried over. That sense of impending doom seeped out of my work environment and into other areas of my life.

I'm losing a lot of hair. Am I going bald? Is there something medically wrong with me?

Did my car just sputter? Is my car going to die? What is that noise? Can I really trust this car?

Is that something between my teeth or is that my tooth splitting in half?

Nathan should have been home 15 minutes ago. Is he okay? What if there's been an accident? How long until I can start to panic? (And Grey's did absolutely nothing to calm this fear.)

And then there were the times that I would wake up in the middle of the night to check our bank account balances because I woke up convinced that we had been hacked.

Even though I came home every day, I wasn't able to leave the anxiety at work.


Last week, I taught a yoga class. I came home, gathered all of my things, took of my shoes, and just sat on my front stoop. I felt light. I felt free. I didn't realize what I had been carrying around until I was no longer carrying it.

There was nothing in my heart but joy. I didn't worry about why I beat Nathan home or how big of a credit card payment I could make or if that sunflower seed wedged in the weatherstripping of my passenger side window is going to make my car break down.

I was able to just sit and be.


That is my wish for you today. I hope that you are able to take a moment to find some stillness - maybe some sunshine - and just be. I hope that you are able to release - just for a moment - whatever is heavy for you. And I hope that sooner than later, you are able to experience moment after moment of this freedom.



Due to a few people mentioning that they regretted being unable to attend, I will be teaching Allow Your Shoulders to Open in person again on Friday evening. I am also going to be delivering a video version of this class to inboxes on Friday morning. Either option is $10.

This series is for those that hunch over a computer or a steering wheel. For those that carry babies. For those that have cell phone neck. For those that carry their hearts on their sleeves and their stress in their shoulders. This class is for you. I hope to see you on Friday. Or that you'll see me.