Big Transformations Come in Small Shifts: Saying No, Then Yes, to Yoga Teacher Training

Published in

Naysayers

7 min readDec 31, 2017

By Kara Montermoso

Over the summer, my 11 year old daughter and 7 year old son came to me with a request. And I said “yes.” Again. I did so willingly, but not without some serious thinking. The two of them EACH wanted to play TWO sports in the fall. That might sound like nothing to some but I knew I was taking on a lot. Between my full time job, their weekday practices, weekend games, me coaching one of the teams, and a spouse who works in retail (read: schedule that is only predictably inconsistent day to day, week to week, with evenings and weekends booked), the logical side of me said, “no way.” But I said “yes” anyway — because, well, it felt right.

The seasons kicked off, and there were many drop offs, snacks in the car, loads of laundry, victories, defeats, lessons in sportsmanship, confidence building conversations, channeling nervousness techniques taught, cheering from a variety of sidelines and bleachers, and shared moments with other parents.

It was not always easy.

But I loved it. I loved seeing them each so happy in their element. It was gratifying to feel like we had the means (time, financial, emotional) to provide these opportunities for them.

And as I reflected back to how I wanted to say no to this crazy schedule mostly because that would have been the prudent, practical (read: logistically sane) choice, there was a bit of a striking revelation.

Seeing my kids so happy was wonderful, but it also amplified the gnawing sense of being unfulfilled and unsettled which I had been keenly aware of once I had emerged from their babyhood years. Regardless of the life I seemed to have on paper, there was a part of me that longed the uninhibited freedom and joy my kids displayed. I felt so contained. And I kept trying to squelch this inner voice that kept nagging me about a sense that I was on the brink of realizing some potential but wasn’t letting it happen.

I was trapped in a mindset of my own self-created limitations.

Back in my younger days, after three years of developing a pretty intensive yoga practice, I felt like I was ready to delve deeper and picked up my first yoga teacher training application. Then two weeks later, in the midst of absorbing the excitement of yoga school as a possibility, I found out that I was pregnant. Though my husband and I were elated, the news was a surprise and I became a tunnel visioned. Yoga school was promptly dropped.

So baby came. Time got sucked away. Then there was a move across the country. By some wonderful miracle, the studio where I wanted to do training in NYC opened a San Francisco location. I picked up another application. That was never completed. There were two careers that had uncertain futures, a miscarriage, and then another. Baby #2 arrived. More time accounted for by other beings. Trying to meet the “good mom” expectations. Working opposite schedules. Too tired. Too expensive. But I couldn’t shake the idea of yoga school. I picked up yet another application. It was left blank. Priorities were skewed. Depression made another appearance. Kids were growing up. I turned 40.

This year, TWELVE years after I first contemplated yoga school, and in the midst of the kids’ sport seasons, I picked up yet another application.

I told myself that this was it. After so many false starts and not walking the talk, I needed to jump in or accept that this was an idea that had to be let go of, for good. As the application deadline loomed, I mulled over the decade+ that had passed and all of the reasons I had told myself “no:”

“My kids need me.”
“Scheduling is too hard.”
“I won’t be able to keep up work and home and do school.”
“It’s not the right investment.”
“This money should go for the kids/retirement/home.”
“I won’t be able to do this full-time anyway.”
“I hate having to market myself.”
“I’ve been critical of other teachers, so no one will like my teaching style.”

Yet in the time that had passed between my first thoughts of yoga school and the fourth application that stared back at me from my computer screen, so much life had happened. Experiences that I needed to intentionally acknowledge.

Excuses weren’t going to cut it. I had to go deeper.

There was discomfort and unease, unsettledness and maybe even resentment. There were tears for no reason, and for reasons I couldn’t articulate, more questions and self-doubt. Yet there were also contemplative, clarity-inducing runs in the park, showing up present on my mat regularly, willingly accepting outside guidance via a therapist, friends who lent their encouragement, and trying to go to bed at a reasonable hour consistently. Seemingly random moments arose where I found myself cognizant of my emotions and inner reactions in all the moments in-between the moments of everyday life (I think they call this mindfulness?!?).

Then instead of relying on my usual MO to disregard feelings of unpleasantness and just move on (ie. distract and busy myself instead of processing), I found myself wanting, and able, to push myself to really admit what was holding me back.

I realized it was just FEAR coming up with all of these excuses! Every time my passion and excitement would bubble up, FEAR was there to squash it. And I let it! I needed my inner voice and desire, years of life experience, and my closeted self-confidence, not fear, direct my decisions. I had to say “no” to fear and stand up for myself:

“I need to invest in myself, separate from being a mom/wife/daughter/sister.”
“I want to be an example for my kids that there is more to life than just them.”
“I need to answer my heart’s own questions, and trust in my inner wisdom and life experience that my sense of self-fulfillment has not usually been linked to what seems logical or practical.”
“I’ve worked hard to build a community around my family. I believe that I can ask them to help support me.”
“I have made sacrifices for my husband’s career. I don’t believe that he owes me anything for this, but I do feel like we believe in, respect, and trust each other that I can ask him to find ways to accommodate my needs to pursue this goal.”

And so when I intentionally and definitively said “no” to fear, the “yes” to yoga school came bounding out. I feel like this decision reflects:

Respect for my own needs in pursuing a passion.
Trust that those around me would be supportive in their own ways.
Letting go of control of the outcome. (I may or may not become a teacher in the standard sense, and I’m OK with that — I don’t think I would have been OK with that 12 years ago!).
Being open to the unknown opportunities that may come my way.
The possibility of living out my values in a new way.

Even though yoga school doesn’t start until February 2018, the aftermath of making the decision to go has had interesting consequences:

I feel lighter, physically and emotionally.
I find myself more present with my kids than I have at any other point in their lives.
My marriage feels more at ease, but not complacent.
Parts of my body are physically less tight, especially my hips (I think I’m literally and figuratively less of a tight a$$. Haha!).
I don’t have issues waking up in the morning, and I’ve been waking up often before my alarm without a sense of dread.
I find that I hit the “flow” state at work more frequently and easily.

What is most shocking to me about these after-effects are that they are all changes in areas of my life where I already felt something was missing, lacking or not right in some way. Areas that I felt I had to “fix” before I could consider yoga school as even an option. Little did I know that it may have been the other way around! I had no idea that this one decision could have such a cascade of an effect, but the interconnectedness makes so much sense! As my friend, Julie Blitzer, said, “Big transformations come in small shifts.”

I don’t know exactly what yoga school will lead to yet I feel completely OK with that (a somewhat foreign yet comforting place to be).

It’s been the experience of discovering my voice, saying “no” to fear and excuses, and intentionally making space for a “yes” to emerge that has felt so empowering. Lesson learned! (for now, at least!)