I grew up with this feeling of never being good enough, never trying hard enough. Never quite fitting in. I’m sure the unrelenting questions were my dad’s way of motivating me—it was the drill sergeant in him—but they only stifled me. I was—and still am—too soft to hold up under that brand of motivation. It wasn’t until I got away, saw the world, found yoga that I felt like I might actually be good at something. That I discovered passion. That I learned to love my body. That I found helping others is what fulfills me.
