🌿 From Broken to Whole: My Story of Yoga, Recovery, and Hope

There was a time when I didn’t know if I would ever feel safe in my body again.

I don’t just mean physically. After a traumatic accident during my time in the military, I was left with broken bones, internal injuries, and pain that ran deeper than any X-ray could show. I had emotional wounds—anxiety, depression, panic—that no one could see. And I had scars that people could see… the ones that made me want to hide my body, shrink myself, disappear.

I didn’t know how to move forward. My body felt like a stranger, and my mind became a battlefield.

But then, slowly, something began to shift.

I don’t remember the exact moment yoga came into my life—it wasn’t some grand awakening. It was more like a whisper. A quiet suggestion. I didn’t believe it could help. How could stretching or breathing possibly fix the mess I felt inside?

Still, I tried.

I started small. Sitting in stillness. Lifting my arms. Noticing my breath. It felt foreign at first. Sometimes frustrating. But for the first time since my accident, I wasn’t fighting my body—I was simply being in it. Gently. Kindly.

And that changed everything.

Yoga didn’t erase my pain. It didn’t “cure” my trauma. But it gave me something I didn’t realize I was missing: presence. A place to come back to. A mat that welcomed me no matter what shape I was in—physically or emotionally.

Over time, I began to trust my body again—not because it was perfect or pain-free, but because it was mine. Still here. Still moving. Still holding me.

And then, there was another part of my healing journey—one I’ve never talked about publicly before.

After the accident, I developed permanent nerve damage that left me incontinent. That meant something I never imagined: I had to wear diapers as an adult. At first, I was devastated. The shame was unbearable. I isolated. I avoided outings. I wore baggy clothes, constantly worried about leaks, and felt humiliated by every crinkle or rustle I heard.

But yoga helped me with that too.

Because yoga doesn’t care what you’re wearing. It doesn’t care if you’re leaking or padded or stitched up or scarred. Yoga just meets you where you are.

I began practicing in thick diapers and plastic baby pants—not because I wanted to, but because I had to. I thought it would be impossible. I thought people would stare. But I kept showing up. Quietly. Crinkly. Determined.

And something unexpected happened: I stopped being ashamed. I stopped apologizing for my body’s needs. I started wearing clothes I felt good in—even cute leggings and pastel tops. I found ways to move, to breathe, to stretch in comfort. I found pride in being me—diapers and all.

Yoga gave me my body back. Not the one I had before, but the one I live in now. A body that leaks, that creaks, that craves softness and stillness—but also lives, moves, and feels.

Yoga reminded me that I am whole. Not because I’m flawless. But because I’m enough.

If you’re reading this and carrying your own pain—whether it’s a body that doesn’t cooperate, a mind that feels too heavy, or medical needs that make you feel small—I want you to know:

You are not broken.

You are not alone.

You are still worthy of love, movement, breath, and peace.

Start where you are. Show up. Even if it’s in a diaper. Even if it’s with tears. Even if you can’t touch your toes. Yoga will meet you there. It met me on my worst days… and it still meets me now, one breath at a time.

With breath and softness,

Alice in Yoga Pants 💖

Tags: #AliceInYogaPants, #DiaperedYoga, #VisibleHealing, #SoftnessIsStrength, #SelfAcceptance, #ToteBagDiaries, #SupportSunday, #CrinkleAndFlow, #PelvicFloorHealing, #OutfitDiary