Vulnerability Hangovers
Last night, I went to a poetry slam with some of my fav peeps.
We laughed, cried, judged, and made way too many scandalous soup puns while we sat in awe of the sheer bravery of those who stood up on stage and spoke their truth. Raw, unfiltered, messy, beautiful and ugly truth.
And as I listened, I couldn’t help but think about the vulnerability hangover that must sometimes come after for these artists. The one that hits when the adrenaline fades and you start replaying what you said, wondering if you went wayyy too far, if you’re guilty of oversharing, or if people saw too deeply into who you really are. You can no longer hide behind the walls you spent so long building.
I thought about that because I recently experienced a pretty solid and unexpected vulnerability hangover myself.
After my last blog, I felt a profound sense of relief. Writing it out helped me breathe again. It made something heavy feel more human, and I hope it resonated with you too.
But thennnnnnnnnnnnnn came that wave.
Messages from people on all sorts of paths came rolling in, sharing advice, empathy, fear, strategies, or just their own stories. And while every message was sent with love, I suddenly felt like I was drowning in noise again.
It’s a funny thing, right? You open up to feel freer, and yet the exposure can make the weight double back for a moment.
But that’s the thing with vulnerability. It’s not a one-hit wonder. It’s a practice. It asks you to be brave enough to share, and brave enough to recover when it stings like shit.
And, as always, when things start to feel overwhelming, and after I have spent many days turning into a prune in the bath reading about the way more stressful life of ex-assassins turned fae queens, I return to why I started my own business in the first place: to create.
Right now, the studio is working on some projects that resonate deeply with me, which is why I do this in the first place. The joy of creating is palpable, and I can't wait to share these projects with you.
We’re hosting our 3rd art exhibition next year (tickets will go on sale soon, I’m just having way too much fun headhunting at the moment, and yes, I asked a handful of poets last night to share spoken word on the night too because I adore the craft).
We’re also reworking the 300-hour teacher training schedule and creating the training I wish I had when I was a 200-hour teacher (I've done a 300-hour training, and it was… okay, I guess).
And we’re almost finished finalising a retreat for 2027 in Goa, India. Goa is where I did my first teacher training. It's in India, but not the typical India you first think of, and it feels like an epic, full-circle moment to go back there.
Even though the studio might be heading into another tricky season (preach to all my studio owner babes out there), I’m okay. Personally, I’m doing wonderfully. I know sadness and drama sells, but the honest truth is that I have a wonderfully fulfilling life, and I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.
I earn a salary from the studio that covers my mortgage, feeds a family of four, and even leaves a little extra for a hardcover book or a sauna session every few weeks. I’m also one of the very few studio owners who have the privilege of earning a regular salary, and I don’t take it for granted.
I’ve also realised something else. That no matter how much advice people give you, no one really knows what it’s like to walk your exact path. In the end, it’s you and your family that live it every single day. Everyone else is just doing their best to figure out their own stuff, too, right?
So here’s to vulnerability, to hangovers, and to getting up the next day and doing it all again, cause we humans are emotionally driven, attached and wayyyyyy too complex.
And to my friend Sam, who stood up on that stage last night and shared her spoken word for the first time ever. You made us all cry hot chicken soup on a winter's day, tears.
I can’t wait to see not just your work, but all of the exceptional artists in this community share their souls at the exhibition next April.
If you’d like to be part of it, applications are open now at www.ninyoga.com.au/art.
Annika xx
