Share Your Struggle

Women are two times more likely to be diagnosed with a mental health disorder than men, and yet only 3% of mental health studies are done on women. Our hormones and physiology make us very different than men, and we require more research and understanding to support our mental health. According to the World Health Organization, depression is the leading cause of disability in women, and 1 in 3 women will experience a mental health challenge in their lifetime.

Women have been conditioned to hide their discomfort. I believe it’s time we openly share our struggles and become Courageous Leaders in Vulnerability, showing the world that it’s okay to struggle and seek the support and tools we need to ride the waves of life rather than feel alone, drowning in them.

I wrote the book ‘Return To You’ to help normalize the mental health stigmas women face today. In this book, I share my own personal struggles with mental health and the tools that have helped me overcome and navigate them.

To help me launch this book, I identified four Courageous Leaders in Vulnerability (Coach Carey, Nicole Karikic, Brittany Gray and Carole Dagher) who are currently sharing their struggles openly and asked them to sit on a panel with me. We all have a story that includes both strength and struggle. None of us are immune to struggle, yet many of us only share our strength with the world. While our strengths are important, it’s our struggles that unite us and create meaningful connections and communities that support our well-being.

After a powerful introduction in which the panellists shared their struggles openly with the audience, they shared tools that helped them overcome adversity and mental health obstacles. We discussed the tools we regularly use to nurture our mental health, and we made an effort to normalize these efforts just like the world has normalized exercising and eating well in an effort to nurture physical health. Our mental health is our wealth, and it’s important we talk about it and create a toolbox of resources that help us feel good in our bodies.

I also shared my struggles at the event, which includes anxiety, bouts of mild depression, and a nervous breakdown when I was 18 years old. My nervous breakdown was the catalyst that enabled me to focus on tools that would help me improve my mental health, launch SAOR studio and write this book. The nervous breakdown was triggered when I went on birth control for the first time and unknowingly created a hormonal hurricane that wreaked havoc in my mind and left me feeling paralyzed and trapped in a pit of darkness.  

I only recently learned at a CAMH seminar on mental health that Birth Control is the number one prescription in the world, and yet only 0.15% of studies have focused on the mental health effects on women when they take it. Girls and women around the world are taking a hormonal chemical cocktail that may be causing symptoms similar to post-partum depression without fully understanding its effects on our mental health yet. This is why it’s so important we share our stories, both the struggle and the strength, with others. Not because there is something wrong with us but because we can learn and grow stronger together.

I want to thank everyone who attended my ‘Return To You’ book launch event for their willingness to discuss our mental health and ignite a conversation about our struggles. Only within our willingness to open up all parts of ourselves can we create the meaningful connections that support and provide us with the tools needed to thrive despite any obstacle.  

Each panellist has something extraordinary in common; an ability to share their struggles, ask for help, and nurture tools which help them grow stronger and navigate the next obstacle with more resilience and strength. Life is not happening to us; it’s happening for us, and you do not have to navigate any of it alone.

All of the proceeds from our ‘Return To You’ book launch went towards our goal of raising $10,000 for a local women's shelter in November and December this year.

If you or someone you know is in crisis, call *211 or visit the CAMH resource page for assistance.

To purchase a copy of ‘Return To You’, visit SAOR studio or click here to buy on Amazon. Thank you for your continued love and support of my efforts to eliminate the stigma of mental health obstacles and help women rise once more.

All photography from the event was lovingly and generously donated by Selina Whittaker. Book her today for your photography needs.

Unleashing the Power of Sobriety

Navigating the blurry line between moderate drinking and alcohol dependency can be a real challenge in today's society. As a woman in my 40s, entering peri-menopause and juggling a Pilates studio alongside family responsibilities, I started questioning the impact of alcohol on my health and energy levels.

Fed up with waking up with mild hangovers and promising myself to cut back, only to find myself reaching for another bottle of wine, I decided to embrace sobriety for a longer period. This wasn't just a short-term commitment like Dry January or a 21-day reset that I had easily completed in the past. This time, it was different. I made a vow to go completely alcohol-free for a year to truly understand its effects on me and discover the benefits I could gain by quitting altogether.

While I never considered myself to have a drinking problem, I began to realize that moderation didn't align with my goals for achieving everything I wanted in life and maintaining my long-term health. Over time, I noticed how alcohol negatively affected my well-being and productivity. At first, I thought I could still consume alcohol responsibly and set targets like "only drink on the weekends." However, I found myself repeatedly reaching for wine mid-week or sooner during stressful times. This regular, almost daily evening consumption of 1-3 glasses of wine left me unproductive, affected my relationships, and left me feeling sluggish and fatigued the next day. I wasn't a heavy drinker or a bad drunk, but it simply didn't feel good in my body. That inner voice that tells us our truth was now screaming for me to stop.

Choosing sobriety in a society that often associates abstinence with alcoholism was tough for me. I felt judged and misunderstood whenever I thought about giving up alcohol for good. People tend to see it as an all-or-nothing situation, failing to recognize the long-term health impacts of even moderate drinking. Constantly questioning whether alcohol truly benefited me led to a resounding "no." It hindered my productivity, my connections, and my mental health. It took courage to admit to myself that it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks; this is a decision I need to make for myself.

It all began with a change in perspective. I had to stop glorifying alcohol as the media and society often do and instead truly understand the real impact it was having on my life. Research has shown that alcohol's harmful effects go beyond addiction. It can lead to liver damage, pancreatitis, and an increased risk of certain cancers. Alcohol has also been linked to cardiovascular diseases such as high blood pressure, stroke, and heart failure. Long-term use impairs cognitive function, resulting in memory loss, decreased attention span, and difficulty with decision-making. Most importantly, alcohol can worsen anxiety and depression, ultimately impacting our emotional well-being. Considering my own struggles with anxiety and mental health, this became a driving force behind my decision to stop drinking. Alcohol wasn't alleviating my anxiety; it was actually fueling it.

Alcohol had become my way of coping with stress and discomfort in my busy life. However, I came to realize that these uncomfortable feelings were simply opportunities for personal growth and change. I started to view discomfort as my body's way of telling me to seek healthier ways to navigate challenges and develop a more balanced approach to stress management. By using alcohol to numb the symptoms of tension, I was ignoring my body's warnings and allowing stress and inflammation to wreak havoc on my well-being instead of finding safer and more creative outlets.

To make the transition easier and navigate social situations, I began exploring mocktails. These alcohol-free beverages provided a wonderful alternative and significantly relieved the pressure of explaining my choice to others. They allowed me to fully enjoy social settings while staying committed to my sobriety. I appreciate the efforts of the mocktail industry, even though not all of them are enjoyable.

My decision to quit drinking was further reinforced by the understanding that no amount of alcohol truly benefits our health. I can't be the only one who has searched, "how much alcohol is safe to consume." The research on the long-term effects of alcohol made me question society's glorification of this substance. Discovering the damaging impact alcohol has on our bodies opened my eyes. I'm grateful that Canada’s Guidance on Alcohol and Health recently updated, stating that the risk of health issues begins with consuming 0-2 drinks per week.

I have now reached the six-month milestone of sobriety, and I'm happy to say that I have experienced countless positive changes. My energy levels have increased, my relationships have improved, I've formed deeper connections with my loved ones, my creativity has soared, and I have developed a deeper sense of love and trust in myself. Most importantly my mental health has improved dramatically.

Choosing to live an alcohol-free life has been a powerful decision for me. It has had a ripple effect on various aspects of my life, bringing forth a newfound vitality. One of the most surprising things was how easy the transition away from alcohol was for me. Once I made the decision, I was amazed at how many people opened up about their own journeys without alcohol, making me feel less alone.

If you're reading this article, maybe you've already embarked on a path without alcohol, or perhaps you're considering a new relationship with drinking, just like I was six months ago. If this journey resonates with you, then we share something in common, and I believe you are capable of tackling challenging things. Choosing to go alcohol-free can unlock endless possibilities, allowing you to embrace your truest self and live a life filled with joy, connection, and purpose.

Resources that helped me stay accountable and motivated:

• I Am Sober App

• Upside Drinks

• Quite Like A Woman

• The Naked Mind

• Likeminded Friends (IYKYK)

What meaning are you adding to that?

Ask anyone who knows me what I’m like, and they’ll tell you that I am (almost always) overflowing with optimism. I have this unrelenting belief that we can achieve whatever our hearts desire. I trust that if it’s within us to dream, it’s within us to achieve. I’m sure this perspective can feel annoying and even nauseating to others, and I have also seen how empowering it can be.

Today I don’t feel even an ounce of that optimism. I feel deflated and defeated.

I have always dreamed about writing a memoir regarding my journey with anxiety, yet I never felt ready to begin until last year. I created a comprehensive book proposal and started aligning myself with people who could support me on this intimidating journey.

I have limited writing experience, so I hired a writing coach immediately. Unfortunately, after a few months together, we have not been able to gain the progress I was hoping for, and today, we decided to part ways. She confessed to not having the time to support me as much as I needed and gave me a list of coaches who could help me.

We ended the call, and I immediately felt my lower lip quiver and my eyes swell with tears. I knew it was the right decision in my heart, yet I was surprised by how alone and utterly defeated I felt. I got my journal and began writing as I always do when seeking clarity or feeling big emotions.

What are the facts on the situation I’ve just experienced:

I want to write a book.

This coach is too busy.

I need someone else to support me.

What is the meaning I’m putting on these facts:

My story isn’t worthy of publication.

She has time, I’m just a terrible writer, and no one can help me.

I’m a failure and should not write anymore.

I’m not good enough to have a dream this big.

I need to give up this book. It’s time to quit.

Who am I to think I have anything worthy of being an author?

As I wrote these cringe-worthy thoughts (the meaning), I could feel the unworthiness seep into my bones, and I didn’t like how it felt in my body. I stayed with the feeling, and I kept writing. Only this time, I felt a little more empowered and wrote how I wanted to feel.

What is really happening?

I am creating this meaning.

I can see that it’s not serving me.

I am allowing myself to feel discouraged.

I can choose to stay here or shift.

I am responsible for feeling defeated.

I can decide to empower myself with new options.

Choosing to see the facts in my story and not enroll myself in the drama of the meaning helps me align with empowered next steps instead of drowning in discouragement. It helps me rise out of a victim mindset and choose actions that empower my journey instead of running from it.

Despite my optimism returning, I still feel tender and vulnerable writing this book. And isn’t that exactly where I need to be? When I teach a SAOR class, I always ask people to get uncomfortable. I remind them that’s where the growth exists. So here I am, very uncomfortable, still writing and interviewing for new book coaches.

What meaning are you putting in your life, and is it serving you? Will you allow yourself to get uncomfortable with me, and together, let’s see what else is possible?

Lost or gained?

After a lengthy and courageous battle with cancer, my father’s long-time childhood friend Ralph recently passed away. Over his long and prosperous life, Ralph contributed significantly to his community and fostered multiple children with his wife of over 50 years. When I heard the sad news that Ralph had passed, I phoned my father to see how he was doing and to ask him to share my condolences with Ralph's family who was out east with him.

When I called, my father happened to be with Ruth, Ralph’s wife, and passed the phone over to her so I could share my condolences directly. I wasn’t prepared for how she would respond, and her reply profoundly impacted me; she gifted me a shift in perception that I’ll hold in my awareness for a long time.

“I am so sorry for your loss Ruth,” I said once I heard Ruth’s friendly greeting on the phone.

“What loss, my dear?” she asked me in reply. “Today, I have lost nothing but instead gained so much. Ralph no longer feels pain and has gained the ease he so lovingly deserves. I gained so much by having a full and wonderful life alongside him for all these years. We have all gained such comfort and peace now that he is no longer suffering.” My jaw dropped open as she responded with such joy in her voice.

She went on to list off everything Ralph, herself and everyone around her had gained on a day that could easily be perceived as one of the most difficult in her life.

In the space of grief, this uncommon perception knocked the wind out of me and left me utterly speechless. A day like this is often perceived as immense suffering and loss, but Ruth chose to see all she had gained, not lost. The perception did not negate her love for her husband of over 50 years and didn’t ease her grief or allow her suffering to be diminished. This perception of abundance gave her the strength to see this tough day through. It gifted her and others around her the gift of moving forward in the healing process instead of feeling stuck and overwhelmed by it.

I take this awareness with me as I navigate my scarcity mindset and the endless opportunities, I encounter that feed my ‘not enough’ story.

When I am reminded that summer is ending and ‘not enough’ warm days remain, I also think about the upcoming Fall season I am gaining and how excited I am for cooler weather and the beauty in the leaves changing colour.

When I think about my kids growing up too fast, I turn to gratitude for the little humans they are becoming and praise the qualities they have gained that only time passing could have granted them.

When commiserating with friends about another year gone, I shift instead into a space that remembers all of the wisdom, strength and courage I’ve gained as I gracefully age into another year. All of the adventures that still await me as I move forward and on with my life as we are meant to do.

It’s not wrong to sit in a ‘not enough’ perception; it’s just that I find nothing is gained from this space. I feel paralyzed, unhinged, disoriented and stuck when I focus too much on what I have lost. I prefer to remember my lesson from Ruth and shift my focus to all I have gained.

Lost the summer or gained the spectacular fall season? Lost time with my children or gained incredible new little humans that offer me so much joy now that they are older? Lost my youth or achieved so much wisdom that I cannot help but love and adore the skin I’m in now?

Focus on whatever you’d like, but just for a moment, sit in all you have gained and see how much better it feels.

Rising from Darkness

My own personal journey and struggles with my mental health is a story made of grit and grace. With grit, deciding that my challenges with mental illness will neither defeat nor define me.  With grace, choosing compassion and forgiveness to heal from the debilitating patterns that created so much suffering in my early life. 

At the young age of 18, when I was starting university and far from home for the first time, I experienced an episode of debilitating anxiety.  Descending into a void of darkness that manifested in overwhelming feelings of panic and paranoia, I was alone and terrified.  I had never experienced anything like this before and I didn’t understand what was happening to me.  I was certain that I would be hospitalized in a psychiatric ward if I shared my hysterical thoughts with anyone.  

What I didn’t realize was that I was experiencing the slippery edge of a nervous breakdown that would hold me prisoner, trapped in the darkest recesses of my mind for one whole month.  Terrified and alone in a new city, I was unprepared and ill-equipped to handle this depth of inner turmoil and chaos.  I had no idea what to do, if I was going to be okay, or where to turn for help.  

Eventually, realising that the darkness was not going to shift on its own, I gathered the courage to call my family.  What followed was a procession of seemingly endless medical assessments, where each doctor I visited attempted to prescribe me various medications after asking only a handful of questions.  These appointments typically took less than 15 minutes and left me feeling misunderstood and even more alone.  While I’m not opposed to medication and I firmly believe it plays a valuable role for many people, it just didn’t feel right for me at the time and no one was listening.  I knew there had to be a better way to live.  And so I began the journey of seeking an alternative path out of my darkness, gathering the tools that would allow me to thrive and live a full and authentic life. 

The most empowering lesson I have learned on this journey is there is no cure for my mental health obstacles.  However, there are many powerful tools readily available to help me manage, improve and thrive despite it.  I have spent my entire adult life researching and creating a tool kit for when I need help rising out of my shadows (anxiety, panic attacks, depression), so that I never feel trapped again.  A therapist once beautifully explained this lesson to me: Life can be like a well performing stock exchange.  The overall trajectory can be upwards, but there will still be ups and downs.  With time and the right tools in place, the lows won’t be so low and the highs will become higher.

SAOR studio and the classes we offer are a reflection of my journey to rise from anxiety.  Through my own shared life experiences in classes, workshops and training sessions, I unpack the tools I have discovered and how they have helped me to not only manage my anxiety, but also thrive and go on to help others.  Sharing my story is one way that I can help other women who may be experiencing the lonely darkness and despair of mental illness.  

Mental health awareness and support is important more than ever because:

• Each year one in five Canadians experience mental health or addiction obstacles.

• Women are nearly twice as likely to be diagnosed with an anxiety disorder in their lifetime than men.

• By the time Canadians reach 40 years of age, one in two have—or have had—a mental illness.

• Just 50% of Canadians would tell friends or co-workers that they have a family member with a mental illness, compared to 72% who would discuss a diagnosis of cancer.

• 55% of Canadians said they would be unlikely to enter a spousal relationship with someone who has a mental illness.

• Early research indicates the covid pandemic has caused a huge increase in anxiety globally, disproportionately affecting women.

My hope is that sharing my personal experience with mental health gives women the support and awareness needed to empower themselves to rise with me.  Mental illness is often seen as something that needs to be managed with the mere hope of just getting by.  Our efforts in SAOR studio are designed to motivate and inspire women to see that so much can be done to help them suffer less and thrive more. 

It is my life’s mission to create a community where, in a space of acceptance and belonging, people can regain their power and heal together.

Our stories are all very different, but our suffering feels similar.  More broadly and beyond mental health, SAOR studio unites women and provides a community to feel inspired and share experiences more freely in so we may feel like we belong and are connected.  SAOR studio is for anyone who feels like there is an obstacle in her way, longs for clarity to overcome it, and find meaningful connection and purpose in her life.

SAOR studio is for her, the one who desires more. 

A shift from fear to love

Sundays are normally dedicated to down time for me. A chance to catch up on sleep, rest my body and catch up on reading or course work I’m taking. This particular weekend we had hosted our Teacher Trainers on Friday and all-day Saturday for their 20 hour HIIT module, and I had reached a new level of exhaustion. My entire body ached from moving it for what felt like 48 hours straight. I got up on Sunday morning and Mark had already left for his 30 km race in Hamilton. He is always training for an Ironman or marathon and I’ve grown use to his early morning alarms. My daughter had slept over at a friend’s, so it was just me and my son in the quiet house. We got up at the same time and I made him some breakfast before we headed off to Susanna’s Parent & Tween morning class at SAOR. The class felt good despite my tired body, and I was so impressed with Susanna’s ability to rally her energy to deliver a great class after participating in our Teacher Training as well. I had to leave quickly after class to get home in time for my daughter returning from her sleepover, and it didn’t feel right. As I rushed my goodbyes and apologized to Suzanna for running out the door, I felt my first pull to come back to the studio later that afternoon. I had a mountain of work that needed to be done and the studio store needed some very overdue TLC and restocking. With an inner commitment to return later that day, I left without another thought related to the studio. I arrived home and the house soon filled as my husband and daughter returned from their outings. My motivation to go back to the studio faded. But later, I felt that same pull to go in and thought it so strange as I never have the urge to work on a Sunday. I ignored it and shifted my focus back on my family.

Later that evening, just as Mark and I were sitting down to dinner (both kids miraculously entertained at playdates), I got a text from Sylvia that might as well have been a 911 EMERGENCY text. All it said was ‘can you call me’. My heart sank and I just knew it was going to be bad. I called her right away and she said that Lisa had arrived at the studio to prepare for the class that night and she had found a lot of water on the ground. She was on her way over to see how bad it was, and she thought we might have to cancel the class that night. Little did we know in that moment, we had so many more worries beyond just the one cancelled class…

Mark and I packed our meal up for later, and quickly headed over to the studio to assess the damage. Fortunately our kids were with neighbours who were more than happy to watch them a little longer while we checked out the situation. At this point it was 6:30pm and we didn’t think we’d be gone longer than an hour. Boy were we wrong.

We had no idea how bad it was until we arrived and saw a group of friends desperately trying to scoop up water. The entire reception area and entry to each studio was flooded. Earlier that day, when there was nobody at the studio, the hose on our filtered water fountain had come loose, spilling many litres of water into the reception without anyone knowing. Fortunately it was clean filtered water, but the damage had been done. I couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if I had listened to my intuition and gone into the studio that afternoon. So much of this mess could have been avoided.

I immediately called my landlord, Karen, as she runs the kids’ dental clinic located on the ground floor, right below the studio, and I was worried about her space. And then I went into fight mode – directing all my energy into getting the many litres of water up and off the ground in an effort to save the beautiful wood floors. Operating in fight mode, you might think my fear response had been activated, but thankfully not yet. I still felt very much in control and optimistic that the damage could be contained.

It wasn’t hard to stay optimistic with so many helpers. Sylvia had been enjoying dinner with her brother’s family and had arrived at the studio with both her brother and husband in tow. They had the bright idea to bring bowls with them to bail the water with. My husband was there, and he brought our Shop-Vac which was a life saver. Lisa and her friend, who had come to enjoy her first SAOR class, graciously offered to stay and help as well with our mops. Susanna arrived with a bag full of towels and collectively we got all the water up and off the floor quickly. 

Just as we were finishing and I felt like I could breathe again for the first time that evening, optimistic that we had suffered little damage, I received a text from my landlord. She included photos of her office and the damage I saw broke me. It looked like a tropical storm had ravaged the one side of her building. I sprang into action again, grabbing all of our mops, the Shop-Vac and towels and headed downstairs to the dental clinic with Mark and Sylvia while the others finished removing the last of the water in our studio. 

It was at this point that I felt the full effect, the heaviness of what had happened. I know first-hand how hard Karen has worked over the past two years to build her beautiful space so that children can feel safe at the dentist. I was devastated to see the water had flooded her clinic as well. I called my friend and asked if she could find a sitter, pick up my kids and put them to bed for me. We were not going home anytime soon…

We worked long into the night to help clean up all the water in Karen’s dental clinic as well. Friends who had heard what had happened brought fans, dehumidifiers and hugs. We called our insurance companies and had them begin the process of sending in restoration companies so we could start drying out the building. I made it home just after midnight and felt so heavy in my heart. We could not open again until the floor was dry and we had properly assessed the damage.

The next morning I woke with the familiar lightness I feel each morning, only to immediately remember, with a thud, what happened the night before. The realization of “Oh no, it really did happen….” I felt my usual victim pattern begin to pass over me, like a stormy dark cloud right in front of the sun on an otherwise beautiful day. Then the stories started thundering in my head. Why does this always happen to me? What have I done to deserve this? If anyone’s business should be open, it’s mine. Poor little old me. Let me tell you, i’m not very productive in this energy. I feel paralyzed with debilitating anxiety.

Once the kids were dropped off at school, I had a minute to reflect on what had actually happened the night before and I made the conscious choice to see the good. In uncertain times there are always helpers. I remembered that fear (my victim based thoughts and paralyzing anxiety) cannot exist in the space of love. In that moment of feeling fear and agonizing over worst-case scenarios, I shifted my attention to feeling love in the form of gratitude. I made a list of all the people who helped me the night before and took a moment to send them all love and kindness.

To the neighbours who took my kids without hesitation, even though it was likely an inconvenience and disruption to their Sunday evening routine. (Sarah and Shannon)

To the trainer who showed up and immediately acted to stop the flow of water, called the right people for help, protected the items that could be salvaged and began the long process of cleaning up. (Lisa)

To the new member who was coming for her first class and insisted on staying to help clean up the flood with us. (Laura)

To the partner who answered her phone during an important family dinner and dropped everything to rush to the studio, manage an efficient clean-up operation and stay with me till the end so I would not be alone for any of the chaos. (Sylvia) 

To her husband and brother who arrived with her, ready to help even though they had been in the middle of a family dinner together. (Charlie and Alan)

To the landlord who experienced significant damage to her own business below and yet received the awful flood news with compassion, grace and understanding. Offering kindness and solutions when I felt paralyzed. (Karen)

To the husband who had just completed his own 30km race that morning and was ready for bed… only to instead race to the studio with me and begin the long process of cleaning up the water in my unit and the unit below. (Mark)

To the friends who picked up my kids from the neighbours, put them to bed with a sitter and then knocked on doors to find fans that would help dry out the space. (Marianne, Sophie, Chris, Tasha)

To the new trainer who answered my emergency text for help, brought all her own towels from home and waited till the restoration team showed up offering company and support. (Susanna)

To all the friends, family and community members for the outpouring of love, support and offers to help which lifted me so much. (All of you)

To the friends who are contractors or handy and reached out or stopped by in an effort to provide insight, guidance and support. (Roger, Matt, Dan)

This practice of gratitude inspired an IG reel that I made to thank everyone, and it was viewed over 6,000 times in the first day. People want to help. People want to see stories, news and content that is uplifting and loving, highlighting the helpers in this world. This gratitude practice saved me from falling into a deep and very dark place where fear reigns king. From the space of gratitude, I was able to navigate a full day of meeting with restoration teams, insurance adjusters, contractors and trainers.

When facing times of uncertainty, I choose love over fear to stay rooted in my power to overcome anything. Just look for the helpers and they will always guide you back to love.

Comfort, the enemy of progress.

For most of my life, movement was inspired by performance or a finish line. I played soccer at a provincial and varsity level, therefor I moved my body to perform better at this sport. I participated in marathon and Ironman distance triathlon races, therefor I moved to train for the finish line.

I had never moved my body just for the joy of moving. I did not participate in group classes or go to a gym. I met on a pitch to perform soccer drills or ran, swam, biked etc… What I didn’t realize in those early years of competitive sport and chasing finish lines, was that movement was helping me manage my anxiety. I didn’t understand the correlation between movement and mental health right away. I just understood that I felt better (more myself) when I was moving my body regularly. No one told me exercise was more powerful than an antidepressant, however I could feel a shift in my body. I felt better when I was moving.  

I first experienced group fitness and the power of movement (simply to move) when I started working at Nike. I was leading the Women’s Category which was positioned to help inspire women to move more through the Nike Training App (NTC). We hired the most motivating and inspiring trainers across the globe (Nike Master Trainers) to help create and lead workouts for women that were challenging, motivating and encouraging. They had the power to make you believe you were the strongest human in the room. 

I experienced these world class trainers (the best of the best) for myself when we activated training events across North America. One of the highlights of my corporate career was building a studio on a barge on Lake Ontario and hosting over 3,000 women in three days across 75 classes. This experience changed the way I saw movement and the trajectory of my purpose. I saw countless women transform back into powerful beings as they moved and shifted their energy – as they expanded and opened up to a bigger part of themselves that had been hidden.

While working for Nike was life changing in many ways, it was also not what I wanted for my new little family. Over the course of five years, I’d gotten married and had two children. As a new mom with two kids under two, I could no longer maintain the ‘always on’ demands of the organization. While it served me at a different stage in my life and I thrived in the stress of it all, it was beginning to take a toll on me mentally. My anxiety was peaking again, and my tools were not strong enough to keep the dam wall in place. I could feel the cracks widen, the leaks grow and I knew it was only a matter of time before the dam broke and my darkness (debilitating anxiety, depression and panic) came flooding back with an unstoppable force. 

I struggled with the decision to leave Nike for 10 sleepless months. I agonized over the decision and whether it was the right one for me. Wasn’t this the dream I’d been pursuing for years? When recruiters called me with other opportunities, I would only speak to them if they had something at Nike available. I wasn’t leaving my role at Nike for another job; I was leaving because I wanted to spend more time with my family. There wasn’t a single, defining moment when I knew it was time to leave. I simply made the difficult decision when I realized how unhappy I was in the space of ‘not knowing’. I gave my notice and began to prepare myself for being a stay-at-home mom. 

Two months. That’s how long I lasted after I left Nike, before I panicked and realized I might have made the biggest mistake in my career. I started to rehearse what I would say when I called my former boss and begged for my job back. Wrestling with how terrible my choice had been and a big part of me craving my old life as a corporate powerhouse back. 

It was my husband who suggested I should try and find a passion project to focus on. He proposed I wait just a little longer before running back to my old life. A life I had not been happy in either. I revisited that spark I had felt watching the Nike Master trainers lead women into new, more empowering energy through movement and decided to register for some form of movement training. At the time BARRE was picking up in popularity and the mindful intensity of this movement interested me. 

Fast forward to my first day at the BARRE training session. It took place downtown over three days, and I was beyond intimidated. I walked into the studio and was greeted by 12 young, athletic dancers. I was 15 years their senior and in a very different stage of life. To say I was humbled in my ability to move my body would be an understatement.  Each student seemed like a fresh graduate of some university dance program and I was a 35 year old mother of 2 who was told ballet wasn’t for me at the age of 5 because of my ‘size’. I had to ask what first, second and third position was from the very beginning, and I could feel the looks of disbelief from the other participants, penetrating my innocence as I asked the question. 

At the first lunch break I ran across the street to a park and cried into the phone as I explained to my husband what had happened. I was deep outside my comfort zone and it was an intensely uncomfortable space which I didn’t want to stay in for even a moment longer.  As I tried to talk myself out of the training, my husband kindly reminded me that I had become a powerful corporate marketing genius and that took time to build as well. He reminded me that yes, I could quit, but he didn’t know me to quit, so I might as well suck it up, swallow my injured pride and get back into the training. That’s exactly what I did. I wiped my tears away, and allowed myself to feel very alone, uncomfortable and very stupid (which of course I was not, but the story ragged on and on in my mind). 

This very uncomfortable experience was a turning point for me. I had a million excuses not to finish that training program or start another one, but I did both. I slowly watched as I became more comfortable and knowledgeable in each training I took. I opened myself up and gave myself permission to ‘not know’ the answers and to understand that it’s only in the space of ‘not knowing’ that I will gain access to the growth I’m craving. As human beings it’s our given right to want more, crave more, desire more, expect more. Only I was trapped in my cozy, safe, reliable comfort zone. More doesn’t come from comfortable. More comes from getting uncomfortable. Feeling vulnerable. Not knowing the answer. 

This first training program gave me access to discomfort and the reminder that only in the space of discomfort will I grow and access the ‘more’ I want, crave, desire and expect from my human experience. 

It’s this lesson that I carry on my mat EVERY time I teach. How can we intentionally engage with the discomfort in our body? Notice the discomfort build and normalize it. Invite the sensation in instead of taking flight. Stay just long enough to create a new ability in our mind. When we show the brain that we have what it takes to stay in the discomfort on our mat, we can start staying a little longer in the discomfort of life. We can practice tools (breath, awareness, pause, ease) to stay in the discomfort long enough to see what awaits us on the other side. 

Join us for Teacher Training. You don’t need a reason bigger than I want more. 

If my love language could speak.

My love languages are quality time and acts of service. Quality time is the act of giving the other person your undivided attention. I feel love when someone gives me their attention and engages with me in a meaningful way. Acts of service is about going out of your way to do something for me. I feel loved when someone cooks me dinner or fills up my gas tank when it’s empty. 

These traits are undoubtably a reflection of how I experienced love in my childhood. Quality time is a learned need from my father. He was the type of Dad that would be at every soccer game cheering me on and regularly leave work early to see me practice before needing to pick me up. I remember one Saturday morning in particular where I felt his love come through in his ability to spend quality time with me. I was nine years old and it was a Saturday morning. We didn’t own a TV for most of my childhood, as my parents either couldn’t afford one or choose to force my little brother and I to find more productive ways to spend our time. Occasionally on the weekends my father would bring a TV home from his office so we could watch a movie or cartoons in the morning. It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time but considering how large TV sets were in the 90’s, I can now see how much of a commitment this was for him. 

I was in my room, still in my PJ’s and snug in my bed while I begged him to set up the TV before everyone else woke up. My mom was still sound asleep in bed after a late-night hosting one of her famous dinner parties turned dance party and my little brother, five years my junior and still a bothersome toddler, was not up so I had my Dad all to myself. I knew he was eager to start one of the many endless renovation projects on our old home that would keep him locked in the basement for most of the day. But after my relentless whining, he jumped into my small twin bed beside me and agreed to watch one episode of Loony Tunes. Bugs Bunny was up to no good and I could feel my dad laugh in response to his antics next to me. Every time he would laugh I would too. Most of the jokes didn’t make much sense to me but I’d laugh anyway, desperate to be in on the joke with him. It’s in these little moments that I felt loved. When he dropped the business of life (renovations, work, cooking dinner) and chose to enjoy my company instead.  

My mom is a lifelong nurturer and has always shown her love through acts of service. I inherited my need for people to do things for me in order to feel loved from her endless doting on me and my brother. I remember one birthday party in particular where she orchestrated the most magical day for me and eight of my friends. I was turning six years old and she organized a theme party fit for a queen. She made each of us a custom crown from cardboard and markers. They were the most elegant paper crowns I’d ever seen and carefully decorated with her artistic hand. Each one was fit for royalty, but mine was just an extra bit bigger and more special than the rest. She’d created a treasure hunt for us, and we chased clues for little gifts all over the house. Each of us got a balloon with a clue to where we could find our hidden treasure and we spent hours trying to pop the balloon in order to find the clue and then began our search of the house and yard. 

As a young girl I always felt like I had enough, and yet I could tell that we had less than others. We didn’t go on fancy trips and I was never tanned or had braided beads in my hair after March break like many of the other girls my age. We always had gifts during the usual holiday celebrations, but many times they were things we needed (new winter coat and clothes or art supplies) instead of what we wanted (electronics and frivolous toys that would be forgotten within the week). So gifts never really became my love language and it was something that quickly became less in important in my relationships as I got older as a result.  

When I met my husband neither of us really put a lot of weight behind gifts, as neither of us shared a love language associated with gifts. Each year we would feel the pressure to buy birthday, Christmas and Valentines Day gifts for each other from a place that felt forced and inauthentic. Neither of us felt particularly motivated to find the perfect, most well thought out gift for the other, so we quickly fell out of getting gifts for each other all together. We focused instead on spending time together rather than buying an elaborate gift that the other would likely not need or even want. Thank goodness for the ability to return things. 

With the pressure off to buy each other gifts, we fell into a lazy habit of not doing anything at all. I’ll take full responsibility for this one, because each time a commercial holiday or celebration rolled around my husband would dutifully ask ‘what do you want?’ or ‘what shall we do?’ and I would confidently respond with ‘nothing, let’s not do anything’. So, he wouldn’t get me anything or plan to do anything. This was fine for the first few years of collectively deciding not to do anything, but recently I’ve felt resentment creep into my body as another holiday rolls around and we do exactly what we agreed on… to do nothing. 

I’m not sure where this new desire to pause and celebrate in some form came from. Perhaps it was years of being locked down and the actual inability to do anything because of the pandemic. I noticed it more this past Christmas as like clockwork we made the agreement not to do anything and I was somehow surprised when Christmas Day rolled around and my husband had followed his orders and done nothing. It was in that moment that I was done with not celebrating each other during key milestones or holidays. We make the effort for our children and we should make the effort for our relationship as well. I also decided that if I wanted to forgo the natural progression of not doing anything then I would need to share exactly what my needs are with my husband. 

I decided that this Love Day (the next opportunity to celebrate post Christmas) would be the best I’ve ever experienced. And what did I need to make that happen? Once I could understand my needs then and only then could I communicate them with the one person who could help me realize my goal of making this the best Love Day ever. 

I started with the gift. I knew I wanted a longer and much warmer bathrobe (coldest winter ever) so I did a little research and sent a link to my husband well in advance so it would arrive on time. Then I purposefully asked my husband to plan something special for us and had him add it to our joint calendar. Quality time and acts of service needs met please. And then I decided that I wanted a beautiful arrangement of flowers. My husband has been buying flowers for me for 10 years and while I’m madly in love with him, he’s terrible at buying me the flowers I want, despite loads of direction. So I decided that this one was something I’d handle.  I would buy myself flowers, and not buy flowers from him. 

The past weekend my husband arranged for our kids to be at my in-laws (I won the lottery when it comes to in-laws) and he cooked me the most indulgent dinner with all of my favourites. We watched a romantic comedy (he can’t stand these) and went to bed early. All of my favourite things. The next morning, I had my favourite local flower shop (Oleander) deliver the most stunning arrangement of flowers that I’ll enjoy for a couple weeks and had the card read ‘To Myself, just a little reminder of how amazing you are. Love, Nat’. They lovingly included a little box of chocolates and told me they thought I was amazing too. The morning of Love Day, I woke up early to decorate the kitchen with hearts, put out some little gifts (books, art supplies and chocolate) and made my kids a breakfast that called on their love languages. 

And that’s how I made this the most magical Love Day ever. By taking the time to understand my needs, communicate them effectively with the people I love, and choosing to take charge of my Love Day plans. No longer wishing and hoping for something different, but instead putting inspired action into place so that I may experience the celebration that meets my needs based on my lived experiences. How I ever thought someone could read my mind to determine my unique love needs is beyond me, and I’m grateful I’ve learned this lesson now. At the end of the day, you just don’t know what you don’t know.  So let me share my needs with you. I’m open to hearing yours as well.