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In 2010 I stood on my kitchen counter and looked at all the pills in my cabinet. Lorazepam, Lexapro, Adderall, Ambien, Zoloft, just to name a few. One by one I picked them up and opened the cap and from the top of my counter I watched all the pills from each bottle cascade down into the garbage pail below. What a feat, I thought, to throw these all out after seven years on them. It was an accomplishment I was most proud of. But what most people don't know, as I tried very hard to hide it, was the depression, self-destruction, and misery that followed for five years after that. No yoga class, green juice, or healer could make it go away. The self-hatred and sadness was insurmountable, which I had to put down because I was a yoga teacher. I tried to hide it and I did for a very, very long time. Tonight I took a Kundalini class and felt perfect after. Smiling. Radiant. Laughing. Happy. I realized, after two years, I can remember I had those feeling and experiences and sadness and pain but I can no longer remember what it feels like in my body. I can relate. I can sympathize. I can pull out memories like a stray thread on a piece of clothing. But the feeling bad has been replaced with feeling good in a way I never imagined possible. This practice has given me that gift, the great, great gift of feeling good, something I'll never, ever take for granted.