Hi, I'm Rob, and for far too many years, I was just surviving, teetering from day to day, trying to get by.
Until Yoga and Meditation finally helped me to break free.
To truly understand my journey, let's rewind back to the days long before I discovered them.
Drowning In Excess
You see, back in my late teens and early 20s, I partied…HARD.
From my first semester of college until the time I turned 21, I dove headfirst into the rabbit hole of the NYC rave scene and everything that goes with it - the drugs, the late nights, etc.
Looking back on it, I was always trying to find some solace, some true escape.
But amidst the flashing lights, the shaking bass bins, and the endless all-nighters, I found none - just a mirage of euphoria that hid the hollow feeling underneath.
For three years, I submerged myself in this lifestyle, never coming up for air.
I even dropped out of college after my third semester, as I had no sense of focus and no real plan for the future.
Shattering My Heart
In the midst of this crazy time in my life, I found what seemed like an anchor of stability when I fell for a girl.
For a while, life felt like a whirlwind movie montage.
Almost every weekend, there was a different party and different DJs.
The emotions were INTENSE and amplified all the more by the trappings of the scene.
As the beats echoed through our chests, we danced all night without a care in the world.
Imagine my despair when, after almost two years together, I was blindsided by her cheating on me with one of my best friends from high school.
Apparently everybody except for me knew about this ‘secret,’ but I was so lost in a fog of denial and distraction that I couldn’t see what was right in front of my face.
Ultimately, she left me for him, and I was left alone, feeling like a shell of a man.
The heartbreak was more than just temporary pain; the blatant betrayal and my ignorance of it planted seeds of social anxiety and fears of abandonment that cast long shadows.
It would be years before I had another serious relationship.
To make matters worse, the raver ‘friends’ I was left with didn’t actually care about me and offered little support. All they cared about was going to the next party.
I was left feeling even more alone and even more alienated.
I stayed in the scene for a few more months, but the magic was gone. There was nothing left there.
Burned by betrayal, numb from the excess, and without any true friends, I finally got out.
Living in Numbness
But the damage was done, and the neurochemical fallout from that time would be long-lasting.
As I started to put my life back together, I applied and got accepted into my dream school, Berklee College of Music.
Music was the one thing in life that I had ever truly dedicated myself to. I had played piano since I was 4 and electric bass since I was 11. Now, I finally had a place where I could actually use those skills, and I had a positive path forward in life.
However, the negative echoes of my party years truly stifled me throughout college.
I had a hard time making friends, and I spent most of my free time binge-watching reality TV and looking at internet porn.
Instead of fully immersing myself in my musical skills, I was wasting much of my time on endless distractions.
And just as with my raving days, that void still remained.
One glimmer of hope was a classmate who invited me to work out with him at the gym and taught me a bit about how to train.
This was my first taste of fitness and well-being, and it created a foundation that would later help me in building my yoga practice.
Still, that dark, lingering cloud shadowed me through these valuable years, and when I look back at that time, I remember feeling a constant dullness. It was like nothing could ever compare to the excitement that came before.
To make things worse, I was crippled by social anxiety, especially around women, and found myself unable to respond to any signs of interest, even when they were there.
I was trapped in a prison of my own making, and the empty feeling lasted through most of this time.
I was desperate for something, anything, to help me escape.
Finding the Light
It was in Spring 2007, during my junior year at Berklee, still plagued by the echoes of my past, that I unassumingly walked into my first Yoga class.
I came simply looking to stretch and help my flexibility but found something far more profound.
This simple decision, made almost on a whim, completely changed the path of my life.
I didn’t know it at the time, but yoga and meditation would be the keys that would finally help me to escape my years of mental incarceration.
I still remember the feeling of laying there on the mat after my first few classes.
It was the most alive and vibrant I had felt since the wild days of late nights and flashing lights.
This was just the beginning, but I had finally started down a different path.
I realized that it was possible to feel good again and that maybe there might even be a way to let go of the emptiness inside.
At the yoga studio, I soon learned about Vipassana Meditation and how to look more closely at the workings and reactions of the mind.
And I met my teacher, Josh Summers, who introduced me to the more introspective practice of Yin Yoga, and how to seamlessly integrate it with my mindfulness practices.
He and my other teachers have shown me the importance of having an experienced guide to show what is possible through these practices.
Armed with these new tools, consistent practice sessions finally began to shine through the toxic cloud of negative mental patterns.
I started to see the many ways I was sabotaging myself and holding back, and I got a taste of what it was actually like to feel good again.
And I became acutely aware of the many ways I had been my own saboteur, ensnared by tension in my body caused by traumas accumulated over years.
Unearthing Quiet Satisfaction
Bit by bit, class after class, meditation after meditation, I unraveled the karmic knots of my past and found the peace that I was so desperately searching for.
I also sought professional help from a trained therapist, as yoga and meditation are invaluable tools but not a replacement for true mental health care.
It wasn’t always easy. Discipline didn’t come naturally, and my demons haunted me for some time.
But I never stopped starting. Each practice peeled away another layer.
Over time, I learned how to feel at ease in my own body and how to project that confidence outward.
The anxiety and hollowness of my early 20s eventually transformed into a sense of calm and fulfillment.
I had finally unlocked the best version of myself and started to live the life I had always wanted to live.