Part of My Story

Hi, I’m Richelle. Here’s a bit of my story for you to get to know me and my path and how I got into this work.

I grew up with an amazing single mom in East Vancouver and we lived under the poverty line up until my early teens. My beloved dad suffered from addiction to hard drugs, and was in and out of detox, unstable homes, and rehab throughout my life. Despite the forced adulting that can come with having a parent who struggles with addiction and financial instability, I had a great childhood with many friends who I loved dearly and the freedom to play and be a young person. I was also very close to my mom and dad; Despite their turbulent and at times violent relationship in my early life, they both supported me in their own ways and showed me a lot of love. 

When I was 19, my mother was working as a Longshoreman and was killed in a horrific workplace accident. My world shattered and everything changed - I was forever changed - I lost my mother, my home, my sense of the future, and I lost connection to myself and my loved ones. Drowning in heartache, sometimes breathing felt like too much effort let alone finding the energy to go outside with a hole in my heart I thought everyone could see. A year after her death, I began to seek support. I also started volunteering at a bereavement helpline which helped me as I supported others through offering compassionate listening and grief support resources to bereaved folks in BC. I felt like I was finally starting to catch my breath but then at the age of 21, I received the call that my beloved father died from illicit drug toxicity. Already in shock from losing my mom, the death of my father brought deep anger and further compounded my grief. Feeling winded and betrayed by life, I navigated my “new normal” in functional survival mode by avoiding, escaping, and numbing from my emotions, and body to fill the spaces around my loss. I felt raw and numb at the same time. 

 Even among the support of friends, family, and compassionate strangers, I felt defeated and so alone. My coping strategies were no longer helping and I began to turn to yoga and other mind-body therapies to support myself through the effects of my experiences. As I was entering this new world after loss, I was also entering a new world within me. I realized how much I was living in my head and that I had to face what I was trying so hard not to feel. It was hard to be in my body. Hard to quiet my thoughts. Hard to feel the truth that loss leaves. After some time, I started to feel and learn that the rawness I felt didn’t make me fragile; it made me embrace vulnerability, enjoy connection, and flooded me with empathy and compassion. Eventually, my practices became an essential way for me to move through my pain, find and create safety within myself, and feel the strength in my softness.

My path into teaching yoga began with the intention of wanting to guide in drug and alcohol treatment facilities as a way to honour my dad and support others who struggle with addiction. I received training in teaching Trauma-Informed Yoga and began volunteering at a rehab center in East Vancouver through Yoga Outreach and taught public classes in Squamish. This experience led me to go back to school to become an IAYT Certified Yoga Therapist and also attain additional training in the field of the body and trauma such as movement for trauma, Somatic Experiencing® and first responder trauma. I am also a self-proclaimed nervous system nerd which informs my work greatly and I love the poetic nature of these anatomical structures. I feel immense gratitude for the many teachers who have come before me and the ones from who I learned from directly. I feel honoured to be able to do learn and apply this integrative work. 

In 2019 at the age of 29, on the day of my mom’s 10 year death anniversary and my last shift volunteering at the rehab centre, I experienced extreme heart palpitations and was taken to the hospital. It was discovered that I had Wolff Parkinsons White Syndrome and a heart arrymitha. My heart was beating over 200 bpm for over 8 hours and I was not responding to the 7 rounds defibrillator shocks or medication. I was sedated, intubated, tied down, and close to losing life. Doctors tried a last-ditch approach of combining medications that could either counter each other and put me into cardiac arrest, or stabilize me. It worked, and I had emergency heart surgery. 

The shock of the experience, along with the electric shocks, left my body feeling unsettled, tense, and tender. I am grateful for the practices I have acquired to be ease through the effects of this traumatic near-death experience and befriend the feeling of my heartbeat.  I am grateful to be free from my heart condition. This event and the healing process have left me with more understanding, empathy, and connection to the effects of trauma in the body.

My losses and experiences have brought me into a world I didn’t know existed and now that I’m in it, I want to be inspired and strengthened by it. My world felt like it crumbled; looking back it made sense to rebuild from the ground up. From the body up. From the rawness into beautiful imprints. From the isolation into connection. From the losses into possibility. The continuum of these practices continues to help me in my life and I hope to help you on yours. Although we all experience different paths, the collective connection of shared humanity can help us feel less alone. To feel what is possible. 

In service of radical love, hope and vulnerability,

Richelle