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I have always been just a regular person. I grew up, married, raised a family, had a career, all pretty normal stuff. And as part of that normal life I sometimes did yoga. In 1972 my Mother took me to my first yoga class. In the 70’s it wasn’t hard to find classes, but in the 80’s and 90’s it became harder, or maybe I stopped looking as hard. Life just got busy. 

In 2002 my son enlisted in the Marine Corps and I went back to yoga. In 2004 my son came home from the Marine Corps a 100% disabled veteran suffering from mental illness, and I became his primary care giver. At the same time my Mother began to falter with dementia, and along with my sister I became her primary care giver as well.

By day I had a fairly demanding job working as a DoD contractor and by night (and day) I took care of my son and my Mother. Until one day I crashed and burned, I had what I called a good old fashion nervous breakdown; the doctors called it major depression and general anxiety disorder. Throughout this period I was also under the care of a pain management doctor for chronic back pain, among other things.

Although my yoga practice wasn’t strong during this time (who has the time?), I did continue to take classes when I could. Between my son and my Mother I spent most of my non-working time at doctor’s appointments, in hospitals, or on psych wards (VA and civilian). 

Late one Friday night in September 2012, after a long day at the end of a long week, I was very tired and driving home. There was a man on a motorcycle, I didn’t see him and I hit him. Three days later he died and I wanted to die too. I didn’t feel I could go on, having taken a life. Once again I was hospitalized until I could be convinced not to kill myself. And while I was there I did yoga.

The next year was a very long year. My Mother passed away suddenly a few weeks after the accident, which was a blessing in many ways, although I miss her to this day. I continued taking care of my son and tried to take care of myself… and tried to do yoga.

About a year after the accident I was arrested and about a year after that (these were not short years) I was sentenced to prison. Even though there had been no alcohol, drugs, or leaving the scene the judge felt he needed to sentence me to 5 ½ years in prison. I had never even had a traffic ticket before this. I had always believed that everything happens for a reason but I could not imagine what the reason could be for any of this.

For the first year in prison I did what I was told, what I absolutely had to do, and basically waited to die. I did not believe I could survive 5 years in prison. One thing I did do was start my bunk practice. I found there were poses I could do on my bunk that would make my back hurt less.

Someone had seen me and my bunk practice and gave me an address for the Prison Yoga Project. She told me that if I wrote to them I could get free yoga books. The first book I received was A Women’s Practice: Healing from the Heart by Kath Meadows. It was a small book, the first of many, but I have never found another more complete book about the fundamentals of yoga. I felt as if the book had been written for me. I read that book for the first time that first night. 

Over time I moved my practice off my bunk and into the rec yard. The prison I was in at the time had some inmate lead yoga classes, but they had very long waiting lists to get in. After about a year and a half I was able to start taking classes.

About a year later I transferred to a smaller prison which had no official yoga classes. But I asked around and was told if I went to this location, at this time, on this day there would be a class. Eventually the hand full of us who had done yoga on the outside found each other and started to form classes. Only one person actually “taught” the classes, but is was better than nothing.

Within the following few months I built my bunk practice up to 30-45 minutes every morning and I could work my whole body without leaving my bunk. (“exercise” was not allowed inside the dorms). The person who had been teaching the classes didn’t want to teach anymore and asked me to take over. I told her I couldn’t teach but I’d be happy to share my practice… and that is how I started teaching.

For the following three years I taught anywhere from 2 to 10 classes a week, eventually even getting the backing of the prison. 

If it weren’t for yoga I honestly believe I would not have made it through prison, and I am not alone. Over the years many women came to me and wanted to learn… to share my practice. Most people I met in prison had never done yoga, but all were looking for what I had found… a way to escape; a way to be free on the inside. Even if it is only for 30 minutes, when you’re in prison having a way to escape is a blessing. 

I watched yoga help so many women and I went through a lot of books after that first one. But whenever I found someone who truly wanted to learn I would let them borrow my copy of Kath Meadow’s book. And when I came home from prison that was the only book that came home with me.

Returning to the real world has been wonderful and, at times, challenging. But having my yoga practice with me has made all the difference in the world. I am in my circle.

Blog written by Ann Bianco