It’s Okay to Not Be Okay

Once upon a time, I really worked hard on blog posts. My vision for posts was to be relatable and witty: Scoot a Doot has always been a place to share my fitness journey and also tap in to my inner thoughts and emotions that went along with that journey.

Somewhere along the way, I lost the writing spark. Over the past few years, I’ve noticed the shift from blogging to platforms like Instagram. An eye catching picture, a thoughtful post, a pretty sound way to communicate and connect with like-minded folks.

I’ve been dealing with some pretty heavy stuff the past few months (including the global pandemic) and I need a place to delve into it. When the going is good, it’s easy to blog. When the going isn’t so great, I struggle to share.


Because I’m the strong one.

Because I’m a people pleaser.

Because I’m the one who carries the weight of the world on my shoulders and usually I do a pretty good job with it.

Until I can’t.
Until I’m not.
And right now, I’m not.

The past few months have been pretty awful for me. Not many people outside of my inner circle know this but after doing everything “right” and basically living in isolation for a year, I wound up with Covid (in between getting my first and second vaccines). My family also had Covid.

I currently have sick family members.

I haven’t seen my parents in over a year and a half.

I’m beyond overwhelmed by life and actually going out into the world. Being around people after a year of keeping my circle super small scares the crap out of me.

This past week it all came crashing down. The uncertainty of life and the anxiety became too much for me to rationally work through. I had multiple panic attacks. My thoughts raced in a million directions at the same time. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, and couldn’t stop crying.

This is not me. I’M. NOT. ME.

And I knew I needed help. My husband also heard me when I said I needed help and called our primary care physician for me. I verbalized my need for help and thank goodness, I was heard. I’m surrounded by people who are helping me.

I’ve started on medication and plan to follow up this week with multiple doctors.

I’ve let things go that were able to be handed over to very capable people.

And I’m leaning so hard on my people right now.

A week ago I was here… and everything was good in that moment. Instagram worthy.

Now I’m struggling. It’s not nearly as bad as it was a few days ago (because you know, medication) but it’s still a struggle.

And I just wanted to share this because I know I’m not the only one feeling this way. I’m not alone. Neither are you.

I’m taking this time to concentrate on healing and getting better. Writing this helps and I’m grateful for the platform. Right now, I’m not okay, but I will be.


I am an anxious person. The question “what’s the worst that could happen?” is not a rhetorical one for me. It is a challenge. What’s the worst that could happen, you ask? Let me tell you, because my insane brain has already formulated about forty different scenarios that could go down.

Also, you just jinxed us.

Anxiety has been my near-constant companion and worst enemy for most of my life. Without getting long-winded about it – this is a health and fitness blog, not my personal diary, I get it – I have tried it all: therapy, medication, wringing my hands, rocking in a corner. And while all of these things worked, some much better than others (don’t really recommend the last two), there’s one thing that always nips my anxiety in the bud.

It’s a little thing called yoga, my friends. Yes, while I’m harnessing my chi I’m also wrangling my anxiety. I can’t hear you over all of my deep breathing and namaste-ing, scary thoughts!

There’s a long list of studies that back up my anecdotal evidence, too. Just Google “anxiety and exercise” and pages upon pages of articles will pop up citing the short- and long-term benefits of exercise in those of us that are prone to it.

While running calms me (woo, endorphins!), there’s something special about yoga that gets to the root of my anxiety, those little tendrils of worry that burrow into every-day life, and digs them out.

Maybe it’s the purpose with which you have to practice the poses, how everything is slowed down. Maybe it’s that yoga gently forces you to go inward instead of looking out at the world, which can be admittedly pretty scary and weird, especially in San Francisco. Maybe it’s all of those gorgeous words that describe the different poses, the mantras like the previously mentioned namaste, like shanti and om, a chant that is said to be the sound of the universe.

Cool, right? How could I not be completely chill after an hour and a half of all that?

Yoga was the one fitness routine I did religiously while I was pregnant. Not only was it the one form of exercise that didn’t send my heart rate skyrocketing into the atmosphere, it also made me feel more positively connected to my body and mind, which in turn made me feel more connected to the little person growing inside of me. As hokey as it sounds, it made me realize what a freaking rock star my body was, to be doing all of that work.

For all the anxiety I put myself through during my pregnancy and for those moments now when fear rears its ugly head, a calming reality check is just a short walk away to my neighborhood yoga studio.

So hey, while I’m sitting here thinking of the worst that could happen, I might as well do it in the lotus pose.

Do you practice yoga? Or is there another exercise that helps you get mellow? Tell me in the comments!