I’m a former academic turned yoga teacher, turned movement educator. Today, I create online micro-pause videos and courses on back pain, and I work 1:1 with people who want to rebuild a trusting relationship with their bodies.

Movement has always been a central part of my life. From dance classes I started at the age of ten, to finely tuned gym workouts, to eventually developing my own method for releasing pain and tension.

My original life plan was to become a dancer. When that didn’t work out, I turned to what felt like the “next best option”: an academic career. Deep inside, there was always a longing to express myself through movement — a longing I pushed down as hard as I could.

Instead, I focused on becoming someone.

On importance.

On impact in the world.

Social philosophy. Big ideas. The hope of contributing something meaningful — of producing the right theories about what needed to be done.

But somewhere along the way, I lost something.

My soul connection.

And my dreams.

Pursuing a PhD wasn’t easy.

I had to put in every ounce of effort just to manage — and I did it without my heart truly being in it. Deep down, I always knew I wasn’t on the right path, but I couldn’t see a way out. So I kept pushing.

I used exercise as a way to manage my anxiety. I ran for hours, several days a week.

Only when my body was completely exhausted could I feel some sense of relief from the mental pressure.

Sometimes, when we are mentally exhausted, physical exhaustion can feel like relief. It temporarily takes the weight off the mind.

I often felt pressure over my chest, making it difficult to breathe. My blood pressure was elevated. My menstrual cycles completely out of sync.

I started doing yoga simply to keep my body fit. I loved how strong and flexible it made me. I was the person who always left before final relaxation. I was active — not lazy. I couldn’t see the point of resting just for the sake of resting.

During my academic years, I carried a deep fear:

if I allowed myself to rest, I would never get my energy back.

As if I already knew how exhausted I truly was.

If I lie down now, I’ll never get up.

I’ll sleep for years.

I’ll sleep my life away.

So I kept pushing.

One day, I decided to try a yin yoga class — honestly, because I had a bit of a crush on the teacher. It was unbearable. Because of how the studio was designed, sneaking out wasn’t an option. I had to stay for the entire class.

Just lying there.

Noticing.

Breathing.

Deeply uncomfortable.

Afterwards, I went for a run just to feel like I had accomplished something.

And yet, a seed was planted.

Maybe — just maybe — rest had a purpose.

I completed my PhD in 2015. When the celebrations were over, I felt… nothing.

Just hollowness.

Fatigue.

Chronic tension.

Back pain and other pains that didn’t quite make sense.

A nervous system that never fully relaxed.

A tiredness beyond words.

Slowly, I began turning away from academia and toward teaching yoga. I started to experience — on a deeper level — the benefits of meditation. I spent hours and hours sitting with my emotions. Letting the tears fall quietly. Revisiting moments of grief, pressure, and self-abandonment.

Each time I had pushed myself down to become someone I thought I needed to be. Wounds that I had try to heal by becoming successful.

Gradually, a new version of me emerged.

I found trust — not in certainty, but in the unknown. Trust that I didn’t have to have everything figured out. Trust that I could feel my way through life, step by step, staying attentive to what felt true instead of forcing myself forward.

I began trusting my intuition. Trusting that my body carries an inherent wisdom — that it knows what is best for me, if I’m willing to listen. If I quiet my mind enough to hear what’s happening beneath the surface.

That was the beginning of a new journey.

A journey toward helping people reconnect with their inner wisdom, their body’s natural capacity to heal, and their true selves.

Movementality Was Born

Movementality is a way of moving the body with somatic intelligence and intentional awareness.

It is built on micro-movements, gentle joint circulations, and sustained attention — combined with emotional attunement and an ongoing dialogue with the body. Rather than forcing change, Movementality invites listening.

Movement often begins small — sometimes almost microscopic — and gradually grows into larger movements that follow the body’s natural lines and patterns. The aim is not to fix the body, but to support its inherent alignment and intelligence.

Movementality is, at its core, a conversation with the body.

Born from lived experience

Movementality emerged from my own long journey with pain.

I’ve had recurring lower back pain since my teenage years. During my academic career, this expanded into severe neck, shoulder, and upper back pain. Over the years, I consulted countless professionals — physiotherapists, chiropractors, massage therapists, and various alternative practitioners.

Each encounter taught me something. Some approaches helped temporarily. Others helped simply by showing me, with clarity, what did not work. All of them deepened my understanding of bodies — and of my own.

For a long time, I tried to move my way out of pain. And movement is essential.

But real change didn’t happen until I began to understand something deeper.

My back pain wasn’t caused by structural damage.

It was shaped by suppressed emotions, chronic stress, and a lifelong habit of pushing forward.

Managing stress through more discipline, more achievement, and more control was only reinforcing the problem.

The turning point

The real shift came when I began to truly see myself — to be fully present with what was happening in my body, in real time.

Only in that kind of presence can we recognize the truth of what is contributing to pain. Without that truth, we tend to apply cover-ups rather than create change.

This is why Movementality always involves both body and mind.

When movement is small enough, slow enough, and safe enough, the body begins to speak.

Pain is not the enemy.

It is information.

Often, it is a teacher.

When we stay present with sensation — instead of overriding or correcting it — the nervous system begins to recalibrate. Tissues soften. Old protective patterns start to unwind.

The Movementality method

The method combines:

• Extremely small, gentle movements

• Sustained, intentional focus

• Emotional awareness and attunement

• Movements that rebuild trust from deep within the nervous system

By staying within an effortless range of motion, the body no longer feels threatened — and real, lasting change becomes possible.

This work is an invitation — to slow down, to listen, and to rediscover the intelligence already living in your body.