This spring I earned a Master of Education degree in Social Emotional Learning, Mindfulness, and Yoga. Until about a year ago, getting a master's degree was never a goal of mine. I was one of those people who worked my butt off for a bachelor's degree straight out of high school, then happily left academics behind. Or so I thought.

At the ripe old age of 50, I was facing a tough divorce and a new career as an early childhood educator. Although the first few years were disorganized and scary, one of the ways I learned to cope with the stress of a life upended was practicing yoga. I’d practiced yoga off and on for many years, but during Covid I found online classes so helpful that I decided to take a yoga teacher training. I hoped it would help not only my own mental and physical health, but that of my students. And it did. 

Over the next several years I continued my yoga and meditation studies. Again, this was not anything I’d ever dreamed of doing previously, but they helped me so much that I knew I needed to find a way to share this with more people. That’s when I decided to start my business Learning the Calm. At Learning the Calm I teach yoga, mindfulness, and SEL to young children and their educators at many schools throughout the Denver area.

Then I heard about this master’s program. Because it was led by the same organization as my other yoga teacher training, I expected it would be similar: lots of mentorship, camaraderie, and plenty of built-in reflection, yoga and mindfulness. And at first, it was.

Then came the Action Research Study and capstone paper. This was the culmination of everything I'd learned, and proof that the skills I was teaching in my business, Learning the Calm, were actually helpful. I grew enormously as a student, person, and educator, but the self-imposed pressure of completing a master’s degree at the age of 60 got the better of me. Without realizing it, I'd let the habits that supported my own mental and physical health slide, and it started to show. I had misunderstandings at work, made poor decisions, and overreacted. My research was proving the benefits of regular yoga and mindfulness practice, while my own practice had quietly fallen apart.

I had a few genuinely bad days where I beat myself up, felt like a failure, and hypocrite, and wallowed in self-pity. In the weeks that followed, my tribe (friends, therapist, partner) helped bring me back by reminding me that I'm human and allowed to make mistakes. Inspiring and helping others doesn't mean I'm exempt from needing help myself.

It took a month or two to rebuild the confidence, good habits and momentum I'd lost. Not bad, considering it took a year and a half to unravel. If someone with my training, certifications and experience can still lose the thread under enough pressure, then the tools were never about being naturally calm or having it all figured out. They're about having something to come back to. The practice isn't proof that I won't fall apart. It's what helps me find my way back when I do.

That's what I want the educators and parents I work with to hear, too. You don't need to have this mastered. You just need a way back.

I'm sharing this for a few reasons: