I had been going to therapy for over a year because I was suffering from depression. I was now at the stage where I forced myself to say “yes” to everything. So when my roommate said, “You have to go check out this yoga place!” I promised myself I would. I almost changed my mind countless times before I got to the door of the studio.

But I dragged myself in. And I accidentally committed to a three class bundle package at the reception. Then I walked into the classroom. There were about six people and they all seemed to know each other. A man wearing nothing but tiny spectacles and briefs helped a beautiful pregnant woman stretch her shoulders as they chatted. Two women spoke about their weekend in bridge pose. I sat down on a mat, doing random poses to look busy. I finally closed my eyes, cross legged and pretended to meditate.

That’s when I felt someone pull my shoulders. I opened my eyes to see two feet on my chest. I gave in, not knowing what else to do. The feet landed on my mat to reveal the teacher, a small older woman with curly hair. She put a hand on my left thigh and said, “This side is your femine side.”

She put pressure on the leg. “Is there mental illness in your family?”

“Yes,” I said. “My mom.” I had panicked, it wasn’t really true. I wondered what my mom would make of this exchange.

“We will help you,” the teacher said.

The class wasn’t like any yoga class I had been to. I fumbled my way through poses. There was a kind ignorance towards my awkwardness without any noticeable doubt about whether I could keep up. At one point, we had to do some poses in pairs and I ended up with the man wearing the speedo. When we were done, he was laughing. Apparently, I didn’t have to do whatever it was that I did to end up with my head between his legs and very close to his crotch.

I walked out feeling lighter. I had done something that was very scary for someone in my mental state. I had been a complete noob in a room full of strangers who knew what they were doing. I had opened myself up to being guided, being seen, being pushed and pulled because I was capable of doing it.

I never ended up using the two classes that were left in my bundle. I couldn’t get myself to go again. But it didn’t matter. That class rewired my brain so that I knew that I was actually getting better. In fact, that I was well.