01/19/2026
People keep telling me I’m strong.
I appreciate it, truly. But I need to set the record straight:
I’m not strong. Not even a little bit.
I’ve been sick for a week. I’m navigating one of the hardest transitions of my life. Some days I sit numb in my car before teaching. Other days I can barely respond to a text.
That’s not strength. That’s just Tuesday.
What I do have is grit.
Strength suggests not breaking—a steel rod that doesn’t bend. But I break all the time. In therapy. At 5 AM on my meditation cushion. In savasana with tears streaming into my hair.
Grit is different.
Grit is getting back on your mat when you can barely stand. It’s showing up one more time even when you’re exhausted, scared, and have no idea if it’s going to work.
In recovery, we don’t talk about strength. We talk about willingness. Surrender. Showing up one day—sometimes one breath—at a time.
Yoga teaches us the practice isn’t about the perfect pose. It’s about returning. Returning to breath when the mind wanders. Returning to the mat after we’ve been away. Returning to center when life knocks us sideways.
Some mornings my practice is twenty minutes. Other mornings it’s lying on my bolster remembering how to breathe.
Both count. Both require grit.
And grit doesn’t mean going it alone. Real grit knows when to ask for help. Shows up to the meeting. Texts the sponsor at 11 PM. Lets community hold space when you can’t hold it yourself.
You don’t have to be strong.
You can be tired and still show up.
You can be afraid and still take the next right action.
You can be broken and still be brave.
Not because we’re strong.
Because we have grit.
Om Shanti—I honor the grit in you, the part that keeps returning even when it’s hard. 🙏