Everyone was standing with their arms raised above their heads and palms touching. Some had their spines arched in beautiful backbends. I was there. My arse high in the air in a forward fold. Could it have been more obvious that I missed something along the way? My first yoga class.

It wasn’t lack of experience which caused me to fall behind. Rather, Yoga highlighted the need to improve my concentration by quietening an overactive mind. Eventually, it was the silence in savasana or stillness of a yin class made me reflect on how I had been using movement as a distraction, a coping mechanism to avoid facing painful memories.

‘Draw your navel in towards your spine. Come into a squat position with your heels touching your bottom if you can.’ During an arm balance workshop, cues replayed in my head when I attempted bakasana, crow pose. ‘Push firmly into your palms… Lift one foot after another on the exhale’. There was so much to remember. There was a very real chance I was going to face plant, so I had strategically placed a mound of props in front of me for protection.

I attempted bakasana two more times before I was able to hold it. The teacher had made a comment about me practicing at home and I explained to her that it was more about aligning my mind and body and letting go of the props to soften the face plant.

I still remember waking up on cold winter’s mornings at 4:30am to catch a 6am class. I turned my music up as loud as it could go and would marvel at how great it was waking up on my own terms before my two young children would wake me. Purchasing my first yoga membership was the first step in making time for myself- something which I had denied since becoming a mother.

There was an enormous sense of achievement in having completed a yoga class, eaten breakfast and showered all before 7.30am. Giving myself that one hour of yoga help to fill my cup to be able to give that back ten-fold to others. Furthermore, yoga allowed me to use my time better by increasing my productivity because my energy levels improved.

It felt like I had turned my back on yoga when my pa ended up in hospital and ultimately passed away. I missed class after class. I would joke with my pa about “it not being a yoga day today” despite me dressing for yoga and a class having begun just ten minutes down the road. .

On the day that our father died, I presented a yoga sequence to my peers - a formal assessment for my yoga teacher training. It was unrehearsed and unplanned, but it was authentic. It was every pose I had done by my father’s side that I had modified to suit the confinement of an ICU room.

• It was the tree pose with a twist that I would do when I was feeling fatigued.

• It was the standing cat/cow that I would do when I could feel that I was slouching.

• It was the forward fold or chair pose that I would do when I was standing for long periods of time and found my lower back aching.

Yoga helped to keep me balanced which was important when making important decisions. It asked nothing of me and was there if I needed it. Yoga was the most constant and reliable thing I could turn to which would give my body and mind the break it needed.