I was just getting ready to step up on the scale at the doctor’s office, when the fire alarm sounded.

You know how sometimes when a sound totally unrelated to you happens just at the same time that you move and can make you feel like you caused the sound? Is it just me? Well, I had just taken my arm out of my jacket, sweeping it past the alarm, which was above the scale. I jumped, thinking maybe I set it off!

Once I recovered from thinking I had caused a major fiasco, the nurse and I looked at each other and mused about whether it was a drill or not. Pretty soon others in the office started ushering us out. It was the real deal.

We all gathered on a grassy island away from the building, and after the initial confusion, many of us looked towards the building for signs of smoke, flames, or the signal we could return. Eventually, the firetrucks arrived.

The other day I was sitting at Starbucks and staring at my screen through squinty eyes that wanted to shut into a comfy slumber. I was shivering (why is Starbucks always cold to me?) and felt like I was sitting on a rock. I woke up super early that day, after a night of tossing and turning, so I could get my husband to the train and myself to the doctor to get some routine bloodwork done. I missed my morning breathing session, and really was longing for that battery recharge that my breathing practice offers. I was committed to dedicating a good chunk of time to writing that day, though, and knew that my time at Starbucks was it, given that I had meetings and yoga practice in the afternoon.

So, I did what any yoga girl would do.

Order coffee? Nope. Drink a matcha latte? Nah. Put my head on the table and take a nap? Nyet.

I went home, and instead of crawling into bed or curling up on the couch, I got out my bolster for my favorite fatigue-fighting pose.

I held a turquoise pen in my hand and took a deep breath as I looked down at the blank page. At the top, I wrote, “I’m proud of…” and took another deep breath. A few obvious items came to mind immediately.

• Moving across country with my husband.

• Helping my husband through a tough work transition.

• Packing up half of our belongings and staging our condo right before taking a trip overseas.

• Birthing a yoga teaching practice in a new city.

I wrote about half a dozen items on the page before a long pause. The directions for the exercise, which I found through money and manifesting expert Denise Duffield Thomas, were to have a partner ask “what else?” every time you got stuck until you had 30 to 50 items on your list. I wondered how I was going to list 10 accomplishments let alone 30 to 50.

I will never forget that January 2nd, when I woke up with chest pains, dizziness, lightheadedness, nausea, and pain in my jaw.

The holidays had been full of comfort and joy, yet I could barely see out of my right eye due to a cyst on my inner eyelid. I’d attended two funerals. The priest at one passed on his blessings as well as his cold. I was teaching more classes and seeing more private yoga and coaching clients than ever. Now, chest pains. My body was trying to tell me, “Enough!”

It wasn’t the first time I was sick at the holidays. My annual holiday illnesses were dependable. I had come to expect that I would be sick around that time of year. Usually, I got “normal” upper respiratory infections. One year it was whooping cough. (Yes, you can still get this illness. I thought it only happened during the times of Little House on the Prairie and prior…until I got it.)

Though my heart ended up being fine that early January morning, I knew I needed to make some changes. I had to face the fact that as joyous as the holidays are and as much as I love them, I neglected my self-care in favor of doing it all.

I’m fresh off of almost three weeks of travel, and boy, am I glad for a break from living out of a suitcase. We had such a wonderful time in Chicago! In addition to teaching three workshops, holding private sessions with students, and meeting with coaching clients, my husband and I cheered on the runners at the Chicago marathon and filled our hearts with laughter with friends and lots of hugs and kisses from my little niece and nephew. I am so grateful that I got to see many of my Chicago students and meet some new faces as well. We dove deeper into breathing techniques, tuned up our bodies and lives with the chakras, and found nourishment by doing less.

We missed it.  Completely.  Not one kick off.  Not one Hail Mary pass.  Not one plowed run through hundreds (maybe even thousands?) of pounds of muscle might.  Not one Belicheck tantrum.  Not one funny commercial.  Not one second of half-time show fireworks and music.  The Super Bowl came and went this year, as we were awakened by the call to prayer on our first full day in Bangladesh for the wedding of my husband’s nephew.

Though I had no emotional attachment to either team this year, I enjoy watching the game, the halftime show, and, of course, the commercials.  As I lamented missing this annual touchstone of American culture, I remembered how my yoga teacher once likened life to a football game.  I started to observe the “first downs” in my life and discovered something powerful. 

It's a simple formula for boosting your confidence, and it starts with doing something new.  You see, as you step into new experiences, your courage and appreciation have the opportunity to expand.

“Do 100 squats every day for the entire year.”

“Read a book a week.”

“Get up at 5:30 a.m. every day”

“Lose 20 pounds.”

“Give up processed sugar for good.”

Sounds good, right?  Except for when, on day 10, you fall ill and can’t get out of bed to do your squats.  Or, when one month passes and you’re only a few chapters into the first book.  Or, when you went to bed at 3:00 a.m. after your friend’s birthday bash and can’t seem to drag yourself out of bed at 5:30 a.m. Or, when things get so crazy at work that you can’t make it to the gym or the grocery store for healthy food to keep your weight loss going, and instead eat greasy take-out at your desk every night until the project is over.  Or, when you realize that you really are addicted to chocolate and the sugar that’s in it, and where the heck is your secret, emergency stash?  Do any of these scenarios sound familiar?

That last one is all me. ;-)