My third trip to the emergency room suffering from a panic attack was a wake-up call.
I was a sophomore at Wesleyan University. I had just returned to campus from a powerful year studying Ashtanga yoga at home in Michigan and in Mysore, India. I felt disconnected from my peers, from the institution I was attending, and from the whole way of life I was told I should be looking forward to. People around me seemed numb and disembodied, lost in substances and screens. I felt trapped between my parents’ warnings that college was important and the bodily revolt I felt while actually experiencing life at an elite educational institution.
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