I did not choose this path - this path chose me, through fire, through grief, through coming home to a body I once wanted to escape.
For years, I lived with the weight of complex trauma. My body felt like a battlefield, my mind a place of constant alert - always bracing, always waiting. I learned to survive by disconnecting - from sensation, from emotion, from the truth living underneath it all. And then, yoga found me. Not the kind you see in glossy photos, but the kind that asks you to stay - to breathe, to feel, to begin again.
Through yoga, I began to peel back the layers. Not all at once, not neatly, but honestly. I found safety in sensation. I found language in stillness. I found pieces of myself I thought were gone for good. That healing inspired me to step into this work, not because I had all the answers, but because I knew how powerful it was to be witnessed in your pain and still be seen as whole.
And then came a new kind of rupture.
A motorcycle accident changed everything. My body became a site of pain again. The strength I had reclaimed felt like it slipped through my fingers. I grieved. I raged. And slowly, I came back - differently this time. With less striving, more softness. With fewer expectations, more listening. That experience broke me, but what emerged from it was something deeper.
Now, I take a body-first approach to everything I do. Whether I am guiding someone through a yoga practice or supporting them in the therapy room, I honor the body as the place where our deepest wounds and truest wisdom live. My work is about creating and holding space for the real, raw work of embodied healing. It is about coming back into the body, not as something to control, but as something to care for, to trust, and to be in.
And if you are reading this, maybe you are ready to come back home, too.
In kindness,
Pamela Sue (she/her)