​I remember my first alcoholic drink. I was about 13. A seedy nightclub in Bahrain. I was new to the school and I along with my fellow neewby had been invited, by the more the more established school goers, to join them on a "night out". 

I had always been a chronically shy child, I could barely look you in the eye and was always consumed by the sense of being inadequate. New social encounters caused me crippling anxiety. I feel, my social and self dis-ease was not helped by periodic bouts of bullying during my younger years and teens by both students and my  primary school head teacher, who liked to point out my lack of intelligence and the comical value of my front teeth. 

My friend and I arrived at the "club". There was a bar and it was "ladies night" that mean't you could drink as much as you wanted for free. I was not alcohol naive. I had grown up around heavy drinking and had dabbled in a glass of alcohol here and there and liked the effect.

"Five shots of vodka please". To this day I remember the fiery liquid scorching the back of my throat and the heat surge through my body. Suddenly I had the overwhelming sense, of what I can only describe, as arriving. The sense of finally being comfortable in my own skin. I felt liberated, unchained from the crippling anxiety, self doubt and self loathing. My voice escaped me, freely. I could talk and look you in the eye, I could laugh out loud. This was magical. This was the answer. 

Fifteen years of destruction followed.

I found sobriety 7 years ago. I was cast back to the feeling of dislocation. Muted.

I found yoga or yoga found me shortly after I'd put down my last drink.  My motivation for starting? Nothing profound. I was bored of my then, current exercise routine.  After a few classes I noticed that I began to feel more...integrated? That my head and body were attached, one functioning system. The sense of feeling like my skin was home. My skin was a safe space to be. My skin was ok. 

When apathy beats me or time escapes me and I miss a few days. I feel that feeling of dislocation creep into me again and once again I feel like "tin man", brittle and dislocated, like a vortex has opened within me and is pulling me inwards.

For me, yoga is not about hipster studios, epic poses and patterned leggings, though these things are nice.  For me yoga is a system, a practice, a philosophy which helps me come home to my self and be ok there. 

Rebecca, MSc, works as a counsellor in London and has experience working with addiction, trauma and other complex issues. Rebecca is passionate about the field of therapy and wellbeing. 

Moments of awareness. The experience? Like a veil lifted, the missing puzzle piece, found. The penny- dropped.  How? Is it a book we read? The outcome of a dedicated practice - be it meditation, yoga. A song we hear? Self work- through therapy or journaling? A sudden moment of razor sharp clarity which cuts through the sticky, gluppy fog.

Suddenly I can see, everything makes sense.

Is this enough? Is my work here done?

In my experience- the moment of awareness can be profound, it can weaken your knees and leave you stunned. To open yourself to receive this awareness takes courage, because it hurts and can throw into question your entire reality. The apples are rolling across the floor. 

I had thought- this is enough. I can rest here now.

Wrong.

Old habits, thoughts, ways of being, ways of relating and ways of behaving persisted. How so? I am aware of them now. I felt more trapped because now I was aware of my dysfunctional ways. My conscience rose within me whilst simultaneously I acted out as I had always done. I felt paralysed. I was angry. I was angry with myself and angry for knowing what needed to be done. I think it was easier when I wasn't so aware, there was a comfort in my own self ignorance. 

Ahaa 

The next phase

Action. This may seem obvious, but it wasn't to me.

In order for me to move past my dysfunctions and honor my awareness I must act.

I must act differently I must do differently, I must challenge my dysfunctional ways ​ways of being, ways of relating and ways of behaving. This, in my experience, is a slow and often painful process- often feeling like one step forward, ten back. How we do this? I think we can find our own way, or perhaps multitude of ways...Journaling, therapy, self help books, fellowship groups, a supportive network, meditation...the list goes on. A different day, a different approach perhaps. The greatest key for me has been patience, persistence and compassion with myself. It takes courage to challenge our old ways and the disruption it creates in our life and relationships can be wrenching. It can be easy to fall into the self flagellation trap. Be kind to yourself my friends. Recognize the progress however small and trust that with your patience and persistence, change will happen. Old sayings - often sound cliche, Ill forgive myseff for saying, Rome was not built in a day.