Breaking Free from the Weight of Expectations
My extraordinary wife has been teaching yoga for over 25 years, and I’m learning how to teach from her. She and I opened Yogacreatives not long ago, and with that came the rightful expectation from our members and students for a high-quality yoga experience. But the heavier pressure? The need I feel to live up to my wife’s expectations. Funny thing is, she has never once voiced or hinted at having expectations of me. These are all self-imposed, and they feed my own insecurities and fears: the fear of letting others down, the insecurity of wondering if I’ll truly offer our students a meaningful experience.
I’m sure I’m not alone in feeling the pull to live up to someone else’s expectations.
This isn’t a new pattern for me. I felt the same as a firefighter, an engineer, a captain, a battalion chief, and an assistant chief. Every rung up the ladder brought more responsibility and a stronger desire not to let anyone down—both for my fellow firefighters and for the public we serve. Because that’s what they expect—and rightfully so. That drive pushed me to train relentlessly, to seek out mentors, and to always examine my own performance before looking outward when things didn’t go as planned.
I wonder how many of you share these same feelings. From the outside, it often seems like everyone else has it all together. I look around at the myriad of students in our incredible studio and think their lives must be perfectly aligned, that yoga here is just the icing on an already flawless cake. But once we get to know each other—once the walls start to come down—I hear the real stories.
They’ve trusted me with challenges in relationships, family, finances, and careers. They’ve shared experiences of illness, loss, and heartbreak. And I’m humbled by that trust. It reminds me that expectation is often the source of conflict—especially the kind we pile onto ourselves.
The Real Gift of Yoga
This is where yoga steps in—not just as exercise, but as a deeply human practice. Yoga gives us tools that go far beyond the mat:
- A pause button for the mind. In the fire service, I learned to act fast. Yoga teaches me to slow down and to simply breathe.
- Strength without strain. Physical postures build stability, balance, and mobility in ways that feel good and support us as we age.
- Stress relief that actually lasts. Through mindful breathing and meditation, yoga resets the nervous system, easing tension we didn’t even realize we were holding.
- Self-acceptance in motion. In every wobble, every modification, yoga teaches us to be kind to ourselves—something that can spill into every other part of life.
- Connection to others. When we practice together, something unspoken happens. We see each other’s humanity. We feel less alone.
These are not just benefits you read in a brochure—they are lived, felt changes I’ve seen in myself and in the people who come through our doors.
Replacing Perfection with Joy
For me, the self-imposed expectations of perfection come from my years in the fire service. There, precision meant survival. But in yoga, I’m learning to replace that mindset with something softer and, ironically, more sustainable: joy.
It’s not about nailing the perfect pose or impressing anyone. It’s about showing up for yourself, over and over, even on the days when you’d rather not. It’s about finding the moment in class where you forget the pressures of your to-do list, where your breath feels effortless, and where you realize you’re smiling without meaning to.
That’s the space I want to live in more often. That’s the space I want to help create for our students. A place where we can all replace conflict with conversation, perfection with practice, and pressure with peace.
Maybe that’s the real work for all of us—not living up to some imagined standard, but learning to meet ourselves where we are. Finding joy in the process, and in the imperfect beauty of simply showing up.
If you’ve been carrying your own invisible backpack of expectations—whether from others or from yourself—come join us at Yogacreatives. You don’t have to have it all together. You just have to show up. We’ll breathe, move, and practice together, and maybe, just maybe, leave a little lighter than we arrived.
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