Aria

"Wherever you go, there you are."

-Author Unknown

I was born in Peru, and I came to Philly when I was five. My mom knew people here, so this is where we settled in first. Then we moved back to Peru in high school, and then we moved back here. I had a really interesting upbringing. My mom was my only guardian. My relationship with her is really weird. I moved out when I was 16, because I just couldn’t be in the same house as her. We were Jehovah’s Witnesses. My mom technically wasn’t allowed to be part of the community because she had been expelled, but she would take us to the church, which we call “the Kingdom Hall.” There were a lot of things I didn’t even know about myself until I went to school. For instance, I didn’t know when my birthday was until fifth grade, because we don’t celebrate birthdays. We don’t celebrate holidays, things like that. It was a great opportunity for my mother, because it allowed her not to be connected. She wasn’t a mom, a normal parent. At least to me. Whenever I would hang out with other people and their parents, I would see their relationships and how involved their parents were, and I would think, “Wow, that’s definitely not what I have.” I always felt like, this isn’t my mom. I mean, I know she’s my mom, she birthed me, but I didn’t have love for her, or care for her.

I’m sure there were times she tried to show her way of love as much as she could, but I didn’t see it. When she would show kindness, my defenses would come up. I’d be like, “Why is she being nice?” I’d question it. I’d think, “This is weird, she must want something out of it.”

My internal work is definitely strong because of my lack of being cared for. I was very introspective at a very young age. I actually recently read my diary from when I was a kid, and it was very like… “I want to be a good person, I want to be nice.” I was writing these things down a lot. “I want to change, I want to be better.” I was young; why am I thinking about these things? Obviously there was some sort of standard that was asked for that I was trying to manifest. Why was I being a bad kid? I wasn’t a bad kid. I was a good kid. But the dynamic in that household made me lose my shit. 

I kind of brought a lot of things on myself in a very funny way. I became a vegetarian unknowingly. When I first came to the states when I was five, I went to a school that was bilingual, so we spoke both English and Spanish. In my head, “meatballs” and “meat” were the same thing. The teacher asked me if I liked to eat meat, and I thought “meatballs,” so I said “no, I don’t like meat,” and so she said, “ok, I’ll tell them to make your meals vegetarian.” So I was always wondering why I never got chicken nuggets or the things that the other kids were getting. I was fine with it, but at the end I realized my mistake. I eat meat now, but I don’t make it at home. I was traveling for a while, so I think I’m just very open to eating whatever anyone offers me. I think culturally it can be rude and disrespectful to not eat what someone offers you, so I’m what people call a “flexitarian”; I just eat what’s put in front of me.

School was very hard for me growing up. It was hard for me to learn. I lived in a hostile environment at home. It was rough for me. At first, I’d be good; in the beginning of the year, somehow, I’d know everything. I’d pay attention in class. But then the year goes on, and it’s just a lot for me. For some reason, everything would just be chaotic - the things we learned in school would feel out of my grasp. But I looked forward to school in many ways, because it meant I’d be out of the house, and that’s the only escape I had from being at home. But it was also not great being in school, because I developed something called trichotillomania from my anxiety. I would pull my own hair. Even in class. It was a controlling thing too. It felt like, yeah, I don’t have control of my life right now. I’m a kid, and you’re abusing me, and I don’t feel comfortable or happy or at peace. My mom would give me shit about it. She would beat me if she noticed that a spot without hair was growing bigger. Many years after this, when I was 18, I saw her briefly, and she told me, “Hey, remember that thing you had with your hair pulling? I also used to have it when I was younger.”

I always describe her as a demon, which is probably not a nice thing to say about another person. But that’s how I feel: she’s a version of a demon. A demon is someone who is very intelligent and smart, who is capable of anything. They’re resourceful, but very manipulative. Narcissistic to the max. And they’re just very clever at everything. They’re just clever humans. I think those are demons. 

I definitely see a lot of who I am now as a result of how I grew up. I am still working on my issues with control and everything that goes along with that. This even comes out in my romantic relationships. I’m like, “Wow, that’s something my mom would do.” And then I’m like, “Crap, the apple really does not fall far from the tree.” I have to really focus on unlearning those things that I learned from her. I really hated being around her; her presence made me sick to my stomach. But it’s funny, when I was in high school and we lived in Peru for those two years, she would travel to the states and leave us with a nanny for months. In general, this was fine with me, but at some points because there was no structure in the house, it made me uncomfortable. I liked being scared… or, it’s not that I liked it, but it was comfortable for me. At least in the way that I knew how to live. Which is disturbing, because in my diary I would write, “Even though I’m not happy about it, I kind of can’t wait for her to come home, because I think things would be better.” 

One of my siblings once told me that I was never meant to be born; that I was a failed abortion. Later on in life, when I was traveling, I met this spiritual woman who said, “I think the reason your relationship with your mother was like this is because it’s a karmic relationship. You knew that she didn’t want you. I think you were born knowing this information, and so the relationship started that way immediately. You never had a connection with her, because you knew she didn’t want you.”

My mom forced me to talk to people. This is a good thing I learned from her. Every time we’d get on the bus, she’d tell us to say good morning to the driver. “Say goodbye, say thank you.” If we didn’t show common courtesy, you better believe our asses would get beat right in public. But these are good things, because these things allowed me to dig deep and not avoid or ignore anybody. Even if it’s weird, I literally say hi to every-fucking-body. I kid you not. And people think it’s really weird and a lot, but I don’t know what this person’s going through; maybe they’re walking to the end of their life. I had a suicide attempt, and I’m like, maybe this will make them know that they are seen. You really don’t know what anyone is going through. 

Because of my upbringing, I didn’t know how to be an adult. I had to seek out people to tell me what to do. I didn’t know how to navigate Philadelphia. I didn’t know how to go from one place to another at all without panicking. It took me so long to be comfortable in my own skin, let alone be comfortable in a society where I didn’t know how to build relationships. My family moved around so much that it made it complicated as an adult to learn how to navigate life normally. How do you have a conversation with somebody on a superficial level? For me, it was always deep. “Ok, I’m sad, this is why I’m sad.” This is how I start conversations. It mainly was because I didn’t care. I didn’t care for a very long time.

Everyone has a dynamic of being and personality. I had a personality; I was very bitchy, and I didn’t like anything. If I saw your fakeness, I was calling it out. I had no filter at all. And it was hard to have friends because of that. But people who stuck with me understood me, and they laughed. They were like, “Oh, this is Aria,” you know? But it wasn’t a good thing to be, I’ve learned, because I didn’t keep those relationships long. And this is the one thing I asked - I was praying every night, “God please send me a good friend, send me a good friend,” but also, “teach me how to learn how to be a good friend.” And the universe sent me people who taught me. There are people in my life now who I’m like, “Wow, that’s a good friend right there.” That’s something I want in my life - to have that and to be that as well. 

I genuinely thought I was going to die when I turned 18. There was no future in my head, so I didn’t think very far ahead. Other people were like, “I want to be this when I grow up.” And I was like, “that’s a thing?” I didn’t know who I wanted to be or what I wanted to do for a career. People would say, “This is what I’ve always wanted to be. This is what my mom is - I want to be that.” And I didn’t have that. I didn’t want to be who my mom is, because she’s a bitch, and this is not how I want to be as a human. It was really hard. 18 was the age where I was like “Woah. There’s the rest. And what happens with the rest of the rest?” I think that’s where my depression hit even more.

I went to college at Suffolk University, and I was getting by, but there was this emptiness in me. And again, more uncertainty. I was majoring in English with a minor in psychology. And I enjoyed learning, I really enjoyed learning. But the structure of it all and having to please somebody, that really ticked me off. I’ve always questioned things, ever since I was a kid. “Why do we have to do that? And why do we have to do that?” So I was like, “Why do I have to write a paper very much like the other papers? They’re not going to look that different, why is this a thing?” I was so depressed at that time, I would literally cry in the middle of class. I couldn’t stop. I would be crying while walking; the water would just come out of my eyes. There would be no specific reason - I was just very sad. I had to stop going to school because I couldn’t focus on my academics. I just thought there was no point to it all, so I stopped going. I moved back to Philly, and I stayed with a friend, and it took me a while to really figure myself out.

Ultimately, I became an esthetician. I went to trade school, and all that jazz. And one day, I actually got attacked in front of my house. It was an attempted rape. Luckily I’m fine, but it was very jarring and traumatic. He tackled me down, but I was kicking the shit out of him, so I was fine. I knew I was going to be fine, but having my personal space be violated in that way was like “whoa.” I was scared to walk outside. That one thing fucked with me. I was locked in my house, I didn’t want to step out. I thought everybody was looking at me. For some reason your brain goes there, it’s really weird. I was depressed, and I was drinking a lot at the time. That was part of my nightlife - getting shitfaced drunk and avoiding being at home and being alone. I never used to mind being alone. I actually used to like it, but at some point there were a lot of things I didn’t know how to face. And so I decided to end my life. And I was like alright, I’m going to plan this thing. I wrote one letter and one letter only, and it was to a friend at the time. I had gotten teeth taken out a month before and I had pills for pain, and I still had the whole bottle, so I was just going to take those. I thought that would do it. I was crying; I remember I was crying so hard, because I was so sad, and I was like, “This is it.” And I had cleaned my whole house. Because I’m obsessive about that. I didn’t want to have anyone worry about cleaning the house. I organized everything. But I was crying so hard that I passed out and didn’t do it.

When I woke up… it was a really weird feeling. I woke up feeling like the sun was inside me. I woke up feeling like I was walking on clouds, like I was levitating, like I was floating. I think when you hit rock bottom to that extent, a switch that you need comes on, and I went from that wall of “I don’t want to exist anymore” to “alright, I’m existing, this is it.” That day, I made decisions that were obviously very much needed. I stopped dating the guy I was dating. I was like “ok, this isn’t working out.” I quit my job at some point and I was like, “this is not aligning with who I am.” I was excited to go to Costa Rica with a group of people. And I did ayahuasca. That kind of broke me a little bit.

That first session I had, I think it was just a very beautiful gift from my ancestors, because I saw a lot of things. I saw the universe… I saw… it wouldn’t even be the universe like stars and shit. It was like being in, in the thing. I don’t even know how to describe it. But I know in my heart, and whatever capacity of understanding, that it is real. And it is not the thing where you have an identity, it’s just… you are. You’re energy, basically, but energy isn’t even the word that I would use to describe this way of existence. You just are connected into the thing. It’s really interesting. But that was very intense. I definitely threw up. I think it’s a good thing that you throw up, because you’re purging all the bad things in you. I woke up the day after this ceremony, I felt amazing. But the circumstances around the group of people I was with weren’t great. We went to a festival right after, so there was no time to rest and process. I did more ceremonies years later - I sat for about ten ceremonies. I realized, this is the time where I really need to apply everything that is shown to me into my life and work.

It showed me what I needed to actually do. It’s a very strange feeling, because even the thought of the things you once enjoyed or the people you used to be around makes you want to throw up. I ended a lot of relationships at that time. A lot of friendships. I was like, sorry, you are no longer… I’m cutting you off. And it’s a slow process, because you're in denial about the choices you have made and why you were excited to be around these kinds of people. It took me a while because I was like, “No, these are the people I chose,” but it’s like, “Honey, you are better than this.” Not that I’m better than anyone, but the people at the time, they were, for the lack of a better word, toxic. These are not people I see myself wanting to be. It’s like, don’t be around people you don’t want to be, you know? So that was that.

One day, I got injured while horseback riding, and I couldn’t move my right arm. I was boxing at the time and had to quit because of the injury. I had a friend who I basically saw every morning at that time, and he would encourage me to go to this yoga studio because he believed it would help me heal my arm and help me get motion back. And I was like, “How? If I can’t even put pressure on it?” and he was like, “No, believe me, just come, it will help.” I finally gave in after a month. I was like “Fine, fuck it.” I didn’t have anything on me - I literally went across the street to Lululemon, bought $89 worth of shorts, and I was like, “Let’s go, I’m ready.” And I went, and the teacher was amazing, and I felt so good. This click inside me was like, “This is it, Aria.” And it wasn’t like I saw myself being a teacher, it was just like, this is the thing that’s going to help me with myself. I wasn't thinking about my body, I wasn’t thinking, oh I want to be flexible, or do a handstand, it was like… whatever this is, this is it. 

During my yoga practice in the beginning as an adult, I never had any thoughts of it bringing something to me in a physical way. I was just there, I was doing what I was told to do, and I felt good afterwards. And it could be that I liked being told what to do, because of how I grew up. But it was also that there were things about the philosophy of it that allowed you to really see within yourself in the moments of practice and tune into whatever it is you're feeling or thinking and hopefully pass through that in a healthy way. It’s different now because I’m teaching more, but I see it with other people too. My heart is like, ok, I see this person, and I can see they’re struggling. They don’t have to tell me they’re struggling; looking at their practice, I can see that they’re struggling in their life. It’s really interesting when you’re a teacher in the Mysore setting, the Ashtanga practice, because you really hold space like no other for people. In a Vinyasa class it’s different because you have to focus on everyone in a different way. Like the room as one is a whole. But in Mysore it’s more about the individual. 

But yeah, I learn a lot about myself. I am a student of life. I don’t even like to call myself a yoga teacher; it seems weird, I’m just helping. You’re your own teacher, basically. If you want to change, if you want to be a better person, it is there for you, I cannot tell you how to do that. You just have to look at the choices you’ve made in the past and the choices you are making now. You need to look at whether or not your choices are allowing for peace around you and within yourself. If not, maybe these are things you need to work with.

“Wherever you go, there you are.” My friend loves that quote. He’s the one who’s always said it, and I never understood it really, until I experienced it myself. I used to think that if I changed my setting, I could be who I wanted to be and not have to deal with this life. The first few months that you live somewhere new, it’s surface-level and exciting - it’s like being love-bombed. But before long, people will trigger things within you that will be like, “Whoa, I thought I escaped this.” Wherever you go, there you are, and you have to really look at yourself. In the end, things are a reflection of how you think and who you are. Not all things, but most things. 

Who do I want to be? I just want to be kind. I like to help people. I really do. And it’s not from a selfish place either. It feels like it is right. It feels right. It’s not like it makes me happy to help somebody. It’s not about my emotion. It’s literally like a click. Like an addiction. I love helping people.

Last year I made the decision to stop traveling. My one thought was, I need to go back to Philly because I need to help the city. The city helped me when I was going through that rough time as a young adult, and I feel like I need to give back in some way. I thought, I really need to stop moving around. I need to work on myself in one place, and this is the place. I have support here, I have the studio, and now I found my people, my community. I want to put down roots somewhere. I’m getting deeper into the spiritual level of life. I’m getting to know myself, and I’m really exploring that connection that we all have in the deepest sense. 

These days, I don’t talk to my mom at all. Surprisingly, she wanted to see me three or four months ago. She is living in out of state, but for some reason she wanted to see me and take me out to lunch because she was in the city. I was so nervous, I was like, I don’t know… but then I thought, you know what, maybe she wants to apologize, maybe she wants to own up to what she did. But when we met, she acted like nothing happened, like we were just catching up, and I was like “oh boy...” But I looked at her in a different way. All I could feel was really sad for her, because she’s obviously struggling. She’s had car accidents, she had a cast on. Now she’s definitely having to deal with a lot of the things she avoided. She has to sit with herself, she has to be bound in her house, and I hope she’s getting the help that she needs mentally. But nothing came out of our meeting. In part I was relieved to know that as an adult, she’s still the same way I remember her. It’s not just that I’m picturing her as she was when I was young because I didn’t get my way back then. It’s like no, she really is that way. She’s still the demon that she always was. 

I wish her well, but she has no space in my mind at all. I don’t think of her, and yet, she’s everywhere. That’s the thing. I don’t have to think about her, because I am her. I am dealing with her every day. I’m changing her. We are moving on. We are going to be better.