I saw the film “Love & Mercy” yesterday, which was a biography on the life of Brian Wilson, leader of The Beach Boys. The film was amazing; I had no idea Brain Wilson suffered from mental illness. HIs condition was exacerbated by those around him. He was so unaware of his sickness that he didn’t know what steps to take toward recovery.

This was the icing on the cake this week for me.

I was diagnosed with depression 7 years ago and automatically put on medications for my consistent suicidal thoughts. I began weaning myself off of medication this year; testing to see how meditation has changed my life. And so far, so good: I lost a grandmother, a grandfather, and my first (and most beloved) dog in the last three months and have had a very difficult time moving on from the pain. And then this week came along.

See, I’ve been overwhelmed by memories this week, which have revived the flashbacks of my assault. It’s almost a year ago that I was sexually assaulted by one of my closest friends. It was one of the darkest days of my life.

It took me a very long time to acknowledge what really happened that night. From former tendency to take on guilt where it didn’t belong, I was convinced that I was at fault, regardless of the facts. Still, I feel the need to justify what exactly happened, hoping to persuade you into knowing the truth. But here is what’s real (and likely, only other victims will understand); people hurt others. I have been part of the “People” group, and I have also been part of the “others” group. I won’t begin to say which hurts weigh more than others, since I am only familiar with my own heart. So I will only speak to my experience.

I was assaulted. He hurt me. My life changed forever.

There are some horrible humans on this planet. In fact, I had to establish boundaries this week to someone who made me feel uncomfortable and unsafe; which as a yogi, seemed ridiculous and unfair. But here is the truth: I’m not a guru. I am a human yoga teacher who is still on the path of learning, still working toward enlightenment, still working to be non-reactive, loving, forgiving, and accepting of all. These things can work in a contradictory manner more often than not.

Then my heart shattered. My friend took advantage of my spirit for his own gain. And I ended up losing nearly all my friends as a result.

Three days after my assault, I was certified to teach yoga. I had spent three months working toward a goal of sharing yoga with people, unaware that it would mean so much more to me in the future. Today, I don’t know how I would start to live without yoga. The equanimity, kindness, balance, non-judgment, and love are lessons that require a lifetime to learn.

I won’t pretend that I’m thankful for my assault. I’m not. I hate that the lesson came through such a violent form. But the lessons to let go of things that no longer serve me, to forgive, to take one breath at a time, etc., those lessons make me the woman I am today.

Summer solstice apparently gave me the huevos to acknowledge the truth. I began yoga a few years back. But only a year ago, yoga literally became ALL I HAD. I was broken, alone, depressed, suicidal, shattered….a shallow excuse for a human. I had my dog, Abner, and my mat. That’s it. My family, thankfully, believed me. My friends thought I was “too dramatic”.

I had no choice; here was my mat; the only thing in this world that would take me as I am, whatever my truth was. So I began. I hoped to teach. To find myself in my lessons. To forget I was hurting and become a teacher who was fun and happy and carefree. Life had a different story planned for me. I was frequently overwhelmed with emotions, feeling easily betrayed and paranoid about my new friends and their commitment to our friendship. My new relationship suffered; I was always clingy and overbearing, praying that he would stick around even though I was the worst human.

What a sad, pathetic young lady I was, eh?

Then I started diving into my practice. Yoga challenges, meditation, and making sure I was on my mat at least for a few minutes daily. I wasn’t going to live as a victim anymore. I wasn’t going to be the woman who deserved to be raped anymore. That wasn’t my story. So I changed it.

I found a opening at a gym in town that only wanted one yoga class a week, and I jumped on it. I figured, oh well, I’m probably not all that good anyhow, so one class seems to be a good amount for now.

About 7 months later, I have roughly 14 classes scheduled each week. Why? Because I let go. I began to trust. I had several friends and colleagues I looked to for comfort, advice, and companionship when I had previously been so terrified to let anyone actually get to know me. I am learning to love my life, love myself…. and I won’t be looking back any time soon.