Wednesday, September 6 // The Statement 
7B

DESIGN BY MICHELLE PHILLIPS

If at first you try

W

hen 
I 
was 

younger, 
I 

played every 

sport you would expect a 
young kid to. From swim-
ming to tennis to dance to 
softball, I had all the bases 
covered. I was never the 
best at any of them, but 
these activities made me 
happy. When I graduated 
from fifth grade, I found 
myself 
becoming 
more 

interested in the perform-
ing arts than sports. I was 
in every school play and 
won several state titles in 
prose debate competitions: 
a piece of dramatic inter-
pretation 
performed 
in 

eight minutes.

Performing allowed me 

to take a break from real-
ity, to transform myself 
into different characters, 
many of which I had noth-
ing in common with. Many 
of the characters I played 
in high school were drug 
addicts, 
schizophrenics 

and girls with no ambi-
tion (see: Frenchie from 
“Grease”). 
These 
oppor-

tunities 
allowed 
me 
to 

become something I would 
never be, and I loved that.

Many of my teachers 

asked me if I was going to 
continue theater in col-
lege, and I always had the 
same reply: “I hope so.” 
Eager about what was to 
come in my final year of 

high school theater, I was 
convinced I would pursue 
performing arts in college.

When senior year rolled 

around and I auditioned 
for the fall musical, I was 
devastated when I saw the 
cast list. I was in the cho-
rus and only had one line. 

Just the year before I was 
the lead. I was crushed, 
upset that I’d lose the 
community that gave me a 
stage to grow both physi-
cally and mentally.

My senior year of high 

school was tough. I had 
smart classmates to com-
pete with to get into the 
most competitive schools, 
and I knew my test scores 
were not as good as those 
of my peers, which took a 
toll on my confidence. I 

stopped eating, my hair 
started 
falling 
out 
and 

my relationships with my 
friends suffered.

Overwhelmed 
by 
the 

fact that I had no control 
over my future, I instead 
controlled what I could: 
my diet. I became very 
weak, 
growing 
fatigued 

during 
simple 
day-to-

day 
activities. 
I 
wasn’t 

restricting myself because 
I wanted to lose weight — 
in fact I was so anxious 
that I didn’t even think I 
was restricting myself. I 
wasn’t eating because how 
could I when I woke up 
each morning unsure if I 
would fail another AP Cal-
culus exam? Or get reject-
ed from another school? 
Looking back, I’m embar-
rassed by these negative 
thoughts. They consumed 
my consciousness, tugging 
at my mental and physical 
well-being, and I didn’t 
even realize it.

Flash 
forward 
a 
year 

and I’m sitting in a lec-
ture hall at one of the best 
public universities in the 
country. I started taking 
medication for my anxiety, 
eating real food again and 
doing yoga. I’d tried yoga 
in high school, but eventu-
ally dropped it because of 
my busy schedule.

I quickly found that yoga 

was the escape from reali-

ty — even if just for an hour 
a day— that I was miss-
ing since I’d left theater. 
Don’t get me wrong, yoga 
is a physically demanding 
activity, but I took com-
fort in the fact that, unlike 
cycling 
or 
CrossFit, 
I 

didn’t feel like I was being 
ordered to do anything I 
didn’t want to do. All my 
teachers made it very clear 
that you should only per-
form poses that serve your 
own unique body. I had 
never heard that before, 
and the acceptance I felt 
coming to yoga every day 
helped me to overcome a 
lot of my mental hardships 
that were still unresolved. 
I finally felt in control.

After becoming a regu-

lar yogi, there was still 
one pose that I just could 
not get right: Chaturanga 
Dandasana. 
Practiced 
in 

almost every yoga class, it 
serves to reset your body 
and begin a new sequence 
of poses or “flows.” Lots of 
instructors call it a “yoga 
pushup,” and I learned that 
it is, indeed, a yoga pushup. 
From the moment I was 
introduced to the correct 
alignment of the pose, I 
told myself I’d never be 
able to do it. I’d never even 
done 
a 
regular 
pushup 

before.

Doubt 
ran 
through 

my mind every time the 

instructor called the pose 
— and I didn’t realize how 
much 
this 
anxiety 
was 

limiting my practice. Yoga 

helps you experience dif-
ferent postures, although 
they might be challeng-
ing to hold, training you 
to deal with the negativity 
that floods your mind the 
moment you doubt your 
capabilities.

I knew that I wouldn’t 

nail this pose on my first 
try. Lots of yoga poses 
take months, even years, 
to master. I started slow 
and with the help of my 
teachers 
made 
minor 

adjustments to my align-
ment so that I could start 
to push my physical edge. 

Often, I felt like quitting 
just because I didn’t suc-
ceed the first time. Or, in 
other words, letting my 
anxieties 
paralyze 
me. 

But through my dedica-
tion to yoga I’ve learned 
the challenges that may 
have seemed impossible 
might actually be within 
my reach. It’s all about 
opening the heart, mind, 
body and soul, coming up 
into upward dog, lifting 
my heart to the world. I 
feel satisfaction by sim-
ply doing it, but also relief 
that I didn’t give up — 
didn’t let the little doubts 
and anxieties control me.

I 
didn’t 
start 
yoga 

because I needed to work 
out, I started because I 
needed to make peace 
with myself. I needed to 
learn that sometimes I fall 
down and that’s okay.

I know this sounds cli-

ché, but I have come to 
learn in these past two 
years that I’m more capa-
ble than I’d ever thought 
I was.

I have found my new 

stage, and performing on 
it makes me feel better 
inside and out. I no lon-
ger need someone to give 
me the lead. I can perform 
all that I am capable of 
in a space that allows all 
beings to be happy, peace-
ful and free.

by Michelle Phillips, Managing Design Editor

Performing 

allowed me to 
take a break 
from reaily, 
to transform 
myself into 
different 
characters

I started 
because I 

needed to make 

peace with 

myself. I needed 

to learn that 

sometimes I fall 
down and that’s 

okay. 

