My Story
This studio grew out of my own practice — and my need for something real.
The truth.
Because you won’t find it on Instagram.
You might think that teaching yoga means I float through life on a cloud of serenity. Not quite. I’m someone who catastrophises like a pro. Always have. And during menopause? Let’s just say the catastrophes got louder, weirder, and way more convincing. If there’s a worst-case scenario to be found, I’ve probably imagined it—twice.
I’ve lived with anxiety most of my life. The kind that creeps in when things are quiet. The kind that makes free time feel like a trap. My brain is excellent at filling in blanks with panic and problems. And for a long time, I thought I just had to manage it silently. Push through. Be natural. Be grateful. Be fine.
But somewhere along the way, I learned to soften. To seek help. To do what actually works. To listen to comedians instead of the news. And to practise yoga not to transcend the hard stuff — but to stay present inside it.
Mid-thought. Probs catastrophising.
Why I practise, and why I teach.
Yoga hasn’t fixed me.
It’s steadied me.
It gives my week shape. It helps me breathe when panic arrives uninvited. It helps me feel stronger in a body that’s been through some shit. And it reminds me that I’m allowed to take up space.
This is what I want to share with you: a practise that’s not about performance, but about presence. Not about getting it right, but about coming home to yourself, again and again.
How I teach.
Over time, I’ve learned that the way a class is taught quietly shapes how people experience themselves inside it.
When we feel watched, we can start performing.
When novelty is constant, we stay alert — but rarely settle.
I’m interested in something different.
Teaching that allows attention to turn inward.
Structure without surveillance.
Repetition that builds confidence rather than pressure.
I don’t teach the way everyone does — and I no longer believe there’s one right way to do this work.
What matters to me is creating a space where learning can be quiet, trust can grow, and people can feel their way back to themselves.
What I believe.
Yoga should meet you where you are. No pressure, no performance, no pretending.
I believe in:
Structure with space for intuition
Strength over spectacle
Rest, properly
Questions over quick fixes
Community over comparison
Yoga that helps you feel more like yourself — not someone you’re trying to become
What you’ll experience in class.
My teaching blends strong, intentional sequencing with warmth, clarity, and zero performative fluff.
I’m not a guru. I’m a guide. I’ll offer you structure, thoughtful alignment cues, and space to explore your own rhythm.
Each class is part of a 6-week module designed to support progress you can feel. We build slowly, layer by layer—so you feel more capable and more connected each time you show up.
My influences include contemporary biomechanics, functional movement, and incredible teachers like Jason Crandell, Jules Mitchell, and Cecily Milne. But mostly? It’s shaped by showing up in a room with real people, week after week.
Beyond the poses.
This isn’t about being flexible.
It’s about being real.
And sometimes, being real means being anxious, or tired, or not quite sure where you fit.
Especially for women who’ve spent years holding it together — this can be a return.
Not a reinvention. Just a coming home.
My classes are a space for all of that.
To reconnect.
To rest without guilt.
To laugh.
To feel quietly proud of what your body can do.
Because yoga, at its heart, isn’t about escaping.
It’s about arriving.
Want to practice with me?
I’m not here to fix you.
I’m here to offer a steadier place to practise.
Yoga hasn’t solved my life. But it has helped me stay connected to myself, even when life feels messy.
If that kind of practice sounds like a relief, you’ll probably feel at home here.
Slow letters from the mat.
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