Getting Stuck Isn’t Failure: It’s part of being human.

This morning, while teaching yoga, I had one of those moments where I completely lost track of where I was in the sequence. I was teaching, moving, guiding; and suddenly my brain was two steps ahead, trying to plan where we were going next.

At the same time, I was thinking about where we had been. I was caught between the past and the future, and I couldn’t fully land in the present. And it showed. I stopped mid-class, looked around at my four students, and asked…

“Does anyone have any idea where we’re at?”

When Mind and Body Disconnect

Moments like this used to happen to me often, especially because of old trauma patterns that trained my nervous system to stay alert and prepared. Those survival mechanisms once kept me safe, but sometimes they still show up when there’s no real danger.

In that moment, my body felt frozen while my brain spun in circles. I knew I was safe, I knew I was standing in that room with these students, but it felt like my mind and body weren’t in sync. Inside, my thoughts were racing: I can’t remember. I can’t make a decision.

I thought to myself, You have two choices; ask for help or stand here and let the silence be awkward for a moment

So, I paused. I took a breath and simply stood there, letting the room be still. After a few moments, I could feel the energy shift; these students were quitly waiting for me to guide them again. That’s when I decided to ask.

“I’m lost, does anybody know where we’re at?” I said with a laugh.

One woman shook her head, smiling: “No, I don’t know where we’re at.” I turned to another woman, and she replied, “I think we were bent over like this,” moving her body forward into a standing split.

That was it, the missing piece.

The moment she demonstrated the pose; my memory clicked back into place.

I was right back in the flow of the sequence, fully present and grounded.

That simple interaction pulled me out of that frozen, collapsed state and brought me back into a more regulated, balanced place, a blend of safety and forward momentum. Whether they realized it or not, the presence of that small community in the room helped me reset.

The Gift of Vulnerability and Community

After class, the same woman approached me and said, “I’m glad you did that.”

I smiled and said, “Yes, sometimes we get stuck. And that’s okay. Thank you for helping me.”

There’s no room for ego in a yoga practice. We all stumble. We all freeze. What matters most is how we choose to respond; whether we can allow ourselves to be vulnerable enough to ask for support when we need it.

Vulnerability isn’t a weakness. It’s a kind of strength; a reminder that we are human, that we can reset, and that we can lean on others to find our way back to ourselves.

When We Get Too Far Ahead of Ourselves

Life often feels like that yoga sequence: busy, overwhelming, and easy to lose track of. We’re constantly trying to predict, prepare, and stay one step ahead, as if being prepared will save us from the unknown.

In Somatic Experiencing, we know this instinct comes from our nervous system’s survival drive. We’re wired to anticipate threats and plan for safety. But when we live in that forward-leaning state, we lose touch with where we are right now.

This morning, I stumbled because I was too far ahead of myself, trying to hold everything in my mind instead of being present with what was unfolding. In yoga, just like in life, that’s when we trip.

The Practice of Coming Back

Yoga, therapy, and Somatic Experiencing all teach us this: it’s not about being perfect or always knowing where we are.

It’s about the practice of coming back; returning to ourselves when we feel lost.

The breath is a teacher.

The body is a guide.

And sometimes, the people and communities around us are the mirrors that reflect us back to our own truth.

Finding Beauty in the Mess

Life isn’t all about trauma or the traumas we’ve endured. It’s about finding beauty in the mistakes, the mishaps, the misfortunes, and the mess-ups. When we allow ourselves to open; to let in a trusted individual, a community, or a loved one, we realize we don’t have to carry everything alone.

I’m reminded of how the armor we once wore for protection can become the way we present ourselves to the world. But real individuality comes from choosing where and with whom we can set that armor down. It is in the safety of community, and the courage to be vulnerable, that we discover who we truly are.