I have a rage inside me, big enough to make my head spin. I am being mistreated, and honestly, it is far from the first time I have been let down by those who should care for my well-being and health. Asking for help has always been near impossible for me, and this was my first time prioritising my physical and mental health. The concept of asking for help was so new that I kept questioning if I was in the right or overreacting, as I learnt early on in life that others often believe I do. It might seem trivial to one that never had a problem asking for help.

Background story to my rage: In March of 2020, my period was getting out of hand as I had it for over 7 days at the time, and every 20 odd days, I ended up having my period about 18-20 times a year. That is about 130 days of period a year. More than a 3rd of the year. I caved in and got an IUD inserted. Since giving birth by c-section in 2018, I have been living with pain. Within a month, I felt the issues regarding my pelvis, and what I realised later was my pelvic floor tensing increased. Living with pain is normal for me; however, this pain pierced through my life, and I just could not ignore it or in any way help myself get better. Some things soothed the pain a bit, like cold water and yoga.

In the fall of 2020, I reached out for help and was told firstly by the midwife in my town that it would be hard to “get in” to the experts in the larger town an hour away. She reluctantly put me on the waitlist. After a few months, I got a call from the experts at the bigger hospital; that nurse was, if possible, even more rude and hostile, questioning me and my pain. In March 2021, I finally had an appointment with a midwife at the larger hospital; she wanted to start by giving me a physical exam, and as she lightly pressed on the left side of my pelvic floor, my tears began spraying out of my eyes as they do in cartoons and even if my threshold for pain is absurdly high I could not keep the scream in. Not since childbirth have I felt pain like that? She realised there was no point in continuing with the exam, so she started asking me questions, and there was something about her kind eyes, and gentle approach that made me share my past with a professional for the first time. The floodgates opened. I talked so fast that she had a hard time keeping track of it all. Finally, she booked another appointment and referred me to my local health centre to see a therapist. I was back in her office after a few months and did the physical exam, she had an extra nurse in the room, and it went better than the shock of the first time. She told me that I most certainly had a tense pelvic floor, and she was to refer me to a pelvic floor therapist. However, the waitlist is long, and it could take years to “get in”. I still felt hopeful, knowing that one day I would get help. 

At the therapist in the local health care centre, I spilt all the tea. All of it. I felt safe with her; she was so down to earth and frank with me, exactly what I needed. She did realise that my issues were too severe for her and her degree, so she applied to me to be accepted to the psyche ward at the local hospital. She again used the words “get in” as if we were talking about a renowned university or something. She even cracked the joke, “If we can’t get you in for PTSD, we will try with ADHD”. That process was cruel, having to tell the worst of the worst stories so that I would be accepted in the therapy I desperately needed. 

A Friday night after work, I biked past some friends having a great time drinking bubbles on their balcony and joined them; we ate very little and drank much more. Large parts of the village showed up on that balcony that night, and I, for the first time, felt like a part of it all. I seldom drink much. Usually, I have one occasion a year when I drink more than makes me feel good the day after. This was my one time that year. On the following Monday morning, I got the call to come in for the obligatory drug tests needed before even being considered entering the psyche system, and I went in the same day to get tested. No worries about the drugs, as the only time I ever had drugs in my body was that time a bartender, put date-rape drugs in mine, and my two male friends drinks as “a treat” about 15 years ago. The alcohol, on the other hand, would it not have been for that one fun night just a few days earlier, it would have been fine. However, the result showed indications of alcohol abuse. Fun. 

In September, I had a meeting at the psyche ward with my future therapist; in that first meeting, I had my walls up. I did not show much emotion, and she did not believe me to have PTSD; she did flag me for depression. The second meeting we had was online. I was safe at home, and as she went through the checklist for PTSD mapping, I lost my breath at a point. She had to guide me on how to breathe. I who have been teaching others how to breathe properly for years. The story of what memory made me lose control over my breath will be part of the book I’m writing about my life and traumas. It will not be a fun read, but essential. That checklist and my reaction to memories shifted her view of my possibility of having PTSD. After collecting the info, she went on to say that they would have a conference about me and what possible treatment I might get because I was not confident I would meet the standards and be eligible for treatment. At the end of September, I got the call that they deemed my PTSD moderate to severe. I was to get treatment under the circumstance that I could prove to them I did not abuse alcohol. They booked me a time to retake the tests two months later, and I was to not drink a drop of alcohol until that date. 

I was ok with not drinking. My issue is that as soon as I add rules to eating and/or drinking, I tend to fall back into the deep hole of disordered eating patterns. I could feel all the intrusive thoughts I worked so hard on ignoring getting a way in by being forced to exclude alcohol. Several times a day, I would think, “What if I don’t eat this? What if I skip this meal? What if I starve myself to look super skinny again? what if…” The more intrusive thoughts, the higher the anxiety levels. 

At the same time as I retook the drug and alcohol tests, I got my first appointment with the pelvic floor physiotherapist. She was lovely, warm, caring and at the same time quite stern, in a positive way. She did not examine me until I knew and felt comfortable with her. Something wild to me. I was about to go, “Do what you need; I am fine”, and have her examine me at our first appointment, and honestly felt a bit disappointed she didn’t. She was right, though. I just never experienced anyone ever considering my feelings and well-being. Together we realised that my pelvic floor issues go all the way back to me being a little girl trying to take the little control she could of her life. All the years of constantly drawing the belly in or the years of sexual abuse didn’t help either. We were making process tho. 

In January 2022, after anxiously waiting two months for them to contact me, the PTSD evaluation started, and a series of therapy sessions to determine what kind of treatment would suit me best. I used a lot of forms and predecided evaluation systems. Still, a great deal of my therapist listened to me and let me lead the conversation as I slowly started to peel my layers of trauma. We had the last session in late May or early June and were to have a summer break and start the proper therapy in the autumn. We followed a protocol using a book to guide us through the treatment that was not primarily focused on PTSD or just one trauma, as I have a bouquet of them. I was doing well, and I could see improvements in many areas. In early December 2022, I had my first acupuncture sessions, which also added to my overall well-being. We had our last call in the middle of December 2022; little did I know that would be our last session, ever! 

In December, I had my last session with the pelvic floor physiotherapist, where she told me that I was done and I felt better! I had the tools to help myself when needed. I told her I knew there wasn’t a quick fix to problems like this, and she stopped me and said that recovering from my physical issues in a year is as close to a quick fix as possible. And she reminded me to focus on all I have done, all the breathwork, the stretching, relaxing and massaging. I did it. 

My therapist did a no-show on our booked time at the beginning of January 2023. I was confused and expected her to contact me for a new time. She didn’t. In February, I called the psych ward, and they said she would call me the following week. That did not happen. In March, I messaged them asking for a plan moving forward. The reply I received was that my therapist would contact me when she was back at work in April. Now, I really like my therapist. I know she is human, just like me, and I give her all the grace for needing time off for whatever reason. I if anyone gets that. End of April, I got a call from another therapist letting me know that she would not be back at work and asking me if I would like a “last session to tie up loose ends”. I am so confused and can’t understand what she means!?

Apparently, my therapist and her boss discussed where I was in my therapy, and they concluded that I was done!? We had a few chapters left in that book we followed; I was stranded, literary, left alone with gaping mental wounds and no information about the future for MONTHS. A thought flickers through my head that I just say, ok, I do not need you if you treat me like this. The way I would have reacted before therapy, but with a deep breath, I said, “I am not done, I need more therapy”. Deciding to fight for myself. For once. At the same time, my head spins when thinking about having to go through it all again. Because apparently, I have to. So now the new therapist is sending me a date and time to come to see her, she expressed that it will take time, and as I know they go on summer breaks, I assume that will be in the late summer-autumn. In that meeting, we will talk about if I need more therapy. If she deems that I do, there must be a new conference. There will have to be new tests. There will be a further evaluation. There will be MONTHS of waiting for proper therapy. If I get it this time, as the boss is set on me being done. 

Today I made a long list of reasons why I still need therapy. There are 15 points on that list, 15 separate traumas or experiences that singlehandedly could have prompted the need for therapy. I’m finally coming to the conclusion that I have been through more than most people. That I am so damn high-functioning, I have such a high drive to pull myself up and out of my traumas and negative experiences. I sometimes wonder why I am such a magnet for people mistreating me. Am I inviting it? You know what? I will fight for myself on this even if I know it will take a lot of energy and might end in great disappointment. Then I will know I did all I could and stood up for myself. I will make that part of my own kind of therapy. This fire I feel inside will be used as fuel for my fight. One of the saddest ripples from this is my trust in people having my back and caring for me, and my well-being got itself a real turn. I was getting to the point where I started considering the possibility of there being people I could trust. Don’t get me wrong, I have a few people in my life I trust, but they do not know the half of it; it is much too heavy a burden to carry. That’s why we go to therapy.

I want to end this text with an important reminder that I do not want to hear anything along the lines of me being faced with hardship because I can take it or that I would not be the person I am today without all my traumas. I would love not to be the person I am today because of my traumas but instead be someone who, from the very start of life, could be who she was and be stable in mental health. So please, if you feel the urge to comment something along those lines, stop and reflect. May it be that you never experienced life the way I and many others have and do not have a say in how we deal with it all?

Maybe that fire inside can be used to finish that book. Writing is indeed therapy for me.

So, I just discovered 8D music. Oh my. I made Nils listen, and he was blown away. His reaction was: “I need to listen to this before my (handball/football) games”. I am so pleased that I get the privilege to help him on his way as I discover what works and doesn’t for my own brain!

For me, 8D music sounds like it is lifted away from the inside of my brain and creates a forcefield of sound around me. My brain goes from feeling too big for my head, all squished and imprisoned, to becoming free and soaring. The music opens up a new dimension for me?

I keep making realisations as I research and look for good tunes for Nils and me. Firstly, I feel like Im listening to the tunes live. Like all the years of working in trance/hard house clubs and hearing the DJs fill the venue with sound. Chills. In the best of ways. Secondly, I have repressed my love for electronic music all my life! Obviously, my brain LOVES it, even craves it! Thirdly, I have felt shame for fully immersing myself in things, music being one of them, and that ends now! Finally, I need to invest in high-quality headphones for Nils and me!

Have you listened to 8D music? Do you love it? Or hate it? There seems to be an either-or situation, we have members of the family that absolutely loath it.

As I am changing things up on my website I am writing a new “about me” but want to save the words written by 6ish years ago Karin. So here we go:

From early 2000 when I was introduced to the Sun Salutations by the LesMills concept Bodybalance, I was hooked and kept that sequence close to heart. My former career in the restaurant industry made it possible for me to travel the world, and I practised the Sun Salutation sequence on three continents. When pregnant with my first child, I suffered from working double shifts in the restaurant industry and turned to yoga. A mat and a DVD got me through the pregnancy, working up until week 37 of that pregnancy. A seed was planted and as a new mum, I started practising yoga every day. Being a mother motivated me to care for myself, and yoga gave me all I needed.

My second pregnancy was filled with obstacles that were challenging to overcome. However, my daily practice was what kept me sane. So many setbacks and challenges were thrown at me I had no other option but to stay strong for myself, my son and the little one in my belly. On my yoga mat, I felt like a superwoman outside I struggled to walk. This was when I brought my yoga practice off my mat. I had to and started getting interested in what else yoga can give. I desperately needed the keys to help me escape this mental(and physical)struggle. That pregnancy ended in the biggest bliss, a little lady with a strong will come flying out(literally) and all my hard work was worth it. I was strong, however, dealing with that first year and a half alone with two little ones demanded I step on my mat daily. As I realized just how much yoga has helped me, I knew I had to share this gift with others.
In 2015 I started my first yoga teacher training with Yogayama. Some of my teachers were Anna Hultman, Sara Granström, Rateesh Mani, Göran Boll, Malin Sävstam, Christina Svärding. I constantly move forward with a beginners attitude ready to learn, since first teacher training attended plenty of education's/immersions with teachers like Sofie Ringsten, Caroline Westling, Anja Berg, Cecily Milne and Rathees Mani.

I aim to share the collection of knowledge I keep gathering through continuous education. I always make sure I live the new knowledge before I pass it on, creating a sincere and clear way of communication is the core of my teaching. I work with my words to be able to guide human bodies in forms that will optimize the flow. The flow of energy, prana, blood or whatever floats your boat. With knowledge of physical anatomy, I teach about the balance between finding the space for breath and movement and stability and length.

My story took another twist and turn and I opened my very own Yoga studio on Sofiagatan 8 in Göteborg, finally living my entrepreneurial dream! I opened the studio with the aim to do everything Perfectly imperfect. And as it turned out, things once again changed, and I am now in the south of Dalarna, running yoga classes at the cosy Grangärde Bystuga and many yoga retreats are in the plans.

Nature has always had a huge impact on my well-being, and as I now live right by the lake I now can focus on daily encounters with water, a dream life really! My aim is to use the lake all year round through wild swimming and cold exposure.

I have always loved the water. As a kid I was the first person in the water as soon as the ice broke. A few years ago my body and all its system were at some standstill. I got inspired to try a cold bath, and was sold straight away! Using breathing techniques from yoga created a calm I hadn't felt before. The physical and mental benefits are so great I will never stop exposing me to the cold water!

In summer, I am on the lake on my SUP board and in the lake for longer swims. Nothing soothes my soul as water.

So it happened; I sold my first yoga class bundle. I can not express just how much joy it brings me! Also, it is terrifying. Will they like it? Have I priced it right? Am I enough? It all boils down to that, right? Am I enough. I am. I know that I have a lot to offer.

My massage therapist's (and modern-day medicine woman's) words echo. I voiced my concerns about the conflicting feelings of knowing that I have a lot to offer and also being scared shitless to share it. She goes: isn't that the core of being an entrepreneur? It helps not to be alone in doubts.

This text was supposed to celebrate that first new step taken but ended up being a behind-the-scenes of my anxious mind. I guess that is right up my alley; another thing I am good at: showing the real instead of the curated. Knowing how important it has been for me to see others mess as part of their success, I will continue sharing.

And for now, I will also celebrate! To this new step, and with a few butterflies in my belly, I dream of this time next year. How will this next year pan out?

There is a deep voice inside of me. It is clear. Firm. Knowing. My register is low. All my life, I have been told that you need a high register to be loved, liked, respected, happy and successful. To think that I even sang as a soprano in my youth choir even if I am clearly an alto. Forced and fake, trying to reach unrealistic heights. Knowing who I am, however, driven by anxiety and using survival strategies to cope. Knowing that the most crucial is to meet my basic needs, and if I don't fit in, I won't. It hurts to formulate these words. It hurts like hell. It is also the truth; I need them to be released to be free.

I see a societal shift; all kinds of people are taking up space. With much help from Social Media, we black sheep have finally realised that we are not alone. The ones that are rigid and not too keen on this open and inclusive version of the world are the ones that limited me up until now. I will no longer try to be anything but me. Never ever. I manifested my freedom from my demons in 2019, it has certainly taken a while, but I'm on my way.

At the end of the day, the choir needs their altos. We need all kinds of personalities for a functional and balanced society.

I tend to only see the profound changes in life and miss the small, seemingly insignificant shifts. I'm feeling a tiny burst of positive motion in my business right now. For the first time since mopping up the mess, my financials were after leaving my yoga studio behind. I am actually on the plus side of my business accounts this year. And I do not have any huge expenses coming up. I do have opportunities to increase and at that small financial surplus. How exciting! Let's be honest; by plus, I mean not losing money. I'm still not taking a salary from my company; however, I am financing education and other business-related extras through the company.

So what do I want to do with the new freedom this brings? How can I ride this wave and keep up the momentum? I have my first hybrid client, online and in person, when I am in Gothenburg, and it is going great so far. We finally have a strong enough internet to upload yoga classes! So what can I do with that? I am about to set the dates for my first-ever retreat!!! Hello!!! Finally! And my SUPPORTED SESSIONS class is in demand. Will select a new date for that soon. I'd like to have it on the Sunday after my birthday, 26/3. The proper start of spring as it is daylight saving here in Sweden.

I have 8 classes planned out both in my head and on paper (see how serious I am about this, even writing it down!) with classes for the menstrual cycle, yin and hatha style classes that suit each phase and supports the body parts and meridians that needs extra love during that phase. This is my promise to myself that I will get it done. I will record them. I will make it into a buyable product. I will sell it here on my page. Will it be in Swedish or in English, tho? Both? I'll start with Swedish and see where that leads me. I am not sure, though, as I am aiming higher and bigger than reaching 10 million Swedes. I just have to start. So get it done and worry about reach later!

Some things in life are recharging me; the more I do, the more my battery charges. Other things drain me. I have come to the point where even the thought of doing something draining is emptying my resources. Therefore I draw a line and avoid (most) of the optional things. Sometimes I need to realise how big of an energy thief a situation can be. Suddenly my mind gets all foggy, and my vision becomes blurry. A mental note for each of these surprise situations registered. It might be something totally different that ticked me off next time, and it’s all situational. How has my week/day/last hour been? Where in my cycle I am and how I feel in my body. So many factors.

See, I tried to take it easy, relax slow down life. Yeah, I need it to some extent. But what I really need is movement, every day in some form. Some days that might be a walk or working in my garden; other days, it might be more vigorous movement like running, swimming or going to the gym. Mindful movements like yoga and Guasha are part of everyday life. Honestly, there is not even a need to categorise the movements? So that I don’t feel like I “need to” or “should” do certain things for it to “count”.

The past 6 months have been a whirlwind of emotions, development, setbacks, pain and breakthroughs. I am exhausted in a way, but also feel freer and stronger than I’ve felt in a long time. Like I just woke up, slightly confused but ready to take on whatever might be. So I will focus on the things that recharge me and do less of the things that run my battery dry.

Sounds too easy, right? You might question why I even find a reason to put these thoughts down on my blog. Since I never ever even considered myself worthy of any boundary, this is groundbreaking. For me, at least. Maybe you can relate?

I am at a breaking point. I either share my thoughts, feelings and experiences freely or stay in this land of in-between. I still have one foot firmly planted in the past. All the set rules of what is ok and not, what we can share and how we live our lives are still somewhat ruling me and my life. None of these “rules” are mine, nor do I wish to have them drag me down and limit how I share my stories. They most certainly do not serve me. I will ruffle some feathers when sharing my life and experiences more freely. That scares me a lot! However, I am confident it will be worth it.

“writing the book” is more of an extension of therapy and part of my process to become free from my past rather than the literal action of writing the book. Whenever I open up my computer for the day, I will write here, short, long, just a sentence, whatever works for me. I will do that because the more you write, the better and easier you will write.

On the surface, a 90s festival is an explosion of colour patterns, banging beats, and expressive dancing. The vibe is high and smiles all around. We recall the 90s as the "good old days", reliving it through Dr Alban singing hallelujah and Haddaway asking what is love? It's the gorgeous ladies with the god-given vocal cords in skimpy leather hotpants wailing while the guy sing/rap to the catchy beat. No wonder we still love this era!

Beyond the surface? Dancing through the gates of Slottskogsvallen, I left behind all possible doubt I might be too much, too loud, too expressive, too fast, too too too… I think you get it? Ironically, during the 90s, I learned that I was too much (of many things) and adjusted accordingly. Made myself smaller in countless ways. Now, at 41, I am shedding old beliefs about who I am and who I need to be. And I found this 90s festival to be a perfect symbol of that process.

Letting loose, dancing/bouncing 47 000 steps(!!!) and singing my voice away did something to me. It shook me on a deep level. My whole being vibrated inside and out. All around me were people doing the exact same thing. Living their absolute best lives. With high energy, huge expressions and crazy dancing. I have always fared being the one that stands out, and in this crowd full of expressive individuals, my high energy just blended in. Thankfully, the norm at the festival was to be too much. 

Ok, let’s discuss being too much. I don’t believe in it. Not buying it at all. However, it still finds its way into my head and obviously into print; just look above! One thing I learned in therapy is that there are truths that are mine and “truths” that have been forced on me. The idea of people being too much is one of them. And I wish to let go of it. Going to this festival was an important stepping stone in that process. Realising that being around another 14 000 people with similar energy levels made me feel at peace. Suppressing who I genuinely am cost me more energy than if I let all that vibration loose. And those who might find us too much are actually not enough. Ok, that sounds harsh but true tho? Or at least they do not let enough fun into their lives. I stand by that. From now on, I’m flipping the script. High energy is the new normal.

So what did a seemingly silly 90s festival teach me? I love having fun, kinda lost that part of me along the way? Also, I use less energy when I stop correcting and shrinking myself. Just being who I am is pretty damn great. So here’s to a fun rest of the summer; let it be filled with joy and maybe some more 90s beats?

This year I started posting exactly what I like and not giving a thought to any type of social “rules” about when and what to post. If I feel like posting multiple times a day, I do. I dropped the ”yoga” after my name in my handle a while ago due to it being at bit too much pressure only sharing things yoga, I am so much more than that. So. Much. More. Same with this website, no longer ”Karin Brattberg Yoga" just Karin Brattberg, just me. This does not mean that I in any way shape or form have dropped yoga! Quite the opposite!

Something funny happened this year, there has been some sort of hype on my Instagram. Mostly about me hacking through ice with an axe pumping myself up and giving myself a lot of love. Interesting. So, I dropped the need to do everything ”yoga" on my page, and now suddenly a large procent of my following expect me to always walk around with an axe in hand ready to slay some ice. Obviously I'm not gonna live up to that. Haha. Hell NO!

I'm over being one thing, and I'm over following accounts that show only one thing. I crave following people sharing their lives. Through the seasons, ups and downs and all in between. It does excite me that there is some sort of hype going on with crazy amounts of accounts reached right now, most of all it catapulted me into a place where i finally feel inspired and motivated to move forward again.

So thank you Instagram hype for dragging me up out of that black hole of no energy, inspiration nor motivation.

I do see the cool irony that is me hyping myself creates a hype that hypes me. How awesome? So lets continue sharing, lets continue hyping eachother and lets not get stuck in just one narrow lane. OK?