Lying in the yoga shala of Gedong Gandhi Ashram, on the east coast of Bali, I felt at peace in myself for the first time in years. I allowed my breath to settle, as my teacher sang an old folk song:
The river it is flowing, flowing and growing
The river it is flowing, down to the sea
Oh, Mother carry me — child I will always be
Oh, Mother carry me… Down to the sea.
Beads of perspiration from our first class together trickled down the side of my bare head. I’d asked my boyfriend Andy to shave it…
If you’d told me 10 years ago that losing most of my hair would’ve been the best thing to happen to me, I might’ve punched you in the face. (Or at least, I would’ve been tempted to.)
Because 10 years ago, I was 22. Still in college, still going through all those changes that happen in college and, rather than “finding myself” — as so many seem to do during this time — I seemed to be moving further and further away.
I was massively, helplessly depressed. I didn’t really know what depression was but I did know that I…