I Tried Yoga for Flexibility but Mostly Just Discovered New Ways to fall over.

It started with a YouTube ad.

You know the one — calm music, a woman with perfect posture doing yoga in a candlelit room, looking peaceful and impossibly bendy. She said things like “connect to your breath” and “flow with intention,” while I, in my hoodie and snack-stained sweatpants, said things like “my back hurts” and “I should try yoga.”

So, I did.

Let me preface this with: I am not flexible.

I once pulled a muscle reaching for the remote. I cannot touch my toes without negotiating with my knees. But I figured yoga would help. I wanted to feel more relaxed, more in tune with my body — and maybe slightly less like a Jenga tower made of crackers.

Spoiler alert: Yoga had other plans.

Day 1: The Optimistic Beginning

I cleared space in my living room and rolled out a yoga mat I bought two years ago during another brief attempt at wellness (it still smelled like optimism and failed New Year’s resolutions).

I picked a “Beginner’s Yoga” video titled Gentle Morning Flow. It sounded harmless. Like it might involve stretching while sipping tea and petting a golden retriever.

Ten minutes in, I was in a pose called Downward Dog, trembling like a leaf and sweating from places I didn’t know could sweat.

The instructor’s voice was calm. “Breathe into your hips,” she said gently.

I don’t know how to breathe into my hips. What does that even mean? My hips were busy negotiating a hostage situation with my hamstrings.

By the end of the session, I had fallen over twice, kicked a houseplant, and discovered muscles that had apparently been dormant since birth.

I collapsed onto my mat, vaguely proud and deeply confused. Was this enlightenment? Or was that just my body going into shock?

Day 2: The Yoga Hangover

The next morning, I woke up feeling like I’d been lightly tackled by a team of very polite gymnasts.

I waddled to the kitchen like a penguin with regrets. Sitting down was a team effort. Standing up again required emotional support from nearby furniture.

But I went back for more.

This time I tried something called Yin Yoga — slower, deeper stretches. More breathing. Less movement.

Sounds easy, right?

LIES.

Holding a stretch for five minutes sounds peaceful until your brain realizes it has five minutes to spiral about everything you’ve ever done wrong in your life. Also, your leg goes numb at minute three.

At one point, I was in a twist so complicated I briefly wondered if I’d dislocated something, but I couldn’t check because my arms were wrapped around me like a human pretzel.

The Many Poses of Disaster

Here are just a few poses I attempted, with my honest thoughts:

Child’s Pose: Okay, this one’s nice. I could nap like this. Why isn’t this the whole class?

Warrior II: Felt strong. Looked like a confused crab, but felt strong.

Tree Pose: Wobbled. Reached for the wall. Knocked over a candle.

Crow Pose: Laughed out loud. Attempted. Nearly faceplanted. Googled "can you sprain your dignity?"

Happy Baby Pose: Felt ridiculous. Looked like I was trying to hail a taxi upside down.

I also invented a new pose called Falling Starfish, which is what happens when you attempt balance on one foot while questioning your life choices.

The Unexpected Side Effects

Despite the chaos, something started happening.

Around day four, I noticed I was… standing up straighter. My spine wasn’t actively protesting every movement. I wasn’t suddenly turning into a yoga goddess, but I was slightly less creaky.

Also, my stress levels went down.

Maybe it was the breathing. Maybe it was the time away from my phone. Maybe it was the fact that I spent 30 minutes a day not scrolling, comparing, or doomspiraling. Instead, I was just trying not to fall on my cat during Warrior III.

Plus, there’s something humbling about trying a new skill and being completely, wonderfully terrible at it.

Yoga vs. My Ego

Let me be honest: I didn’t feel “zen” at first. I felt frustrated.

Yoga forces you to slow down, which is the opposite of how I usually operate. I’m more of a “let’s get this over with and reward myself with snacks” type.

But yoga doesn’t care about your deadlines. It’s a practice. Which means you’re supposed to keep showing up, even if your form is wonky and you sweat through your socks.

That was hard for me.

I like to be good at things. I like instant results. But yoga whispered, “Nope. Sit in your discomfort. And also, try not to fall on your face.”

And slowly… I kind of got it.

What I Learned While Falling Over Gracefully

You don’t have to be flexible to do yoga.

You just have to be willing to look a little silly while trying. Bonus points for laughing when your foot flies into the air uninvited.

Yoga isn’t about the poses.

It’s about the pause. The breathing. The weird stillness between chaos. It’s like therapy for your body — but cheaper and with more spandex.

Falling is part of it.

Not just physically, but mentally. You fall out of focus. You fall into impatience. You fall over trying to touch your toes. And then you try again. That’s kind of beautiful.

Every practice is a fresh start.

It doesn’t matter if yesterday you did five perfect poses or fell over like a giraffe on roller skates. Today, you show up. That’s the win.

Would I Keep Doing It?

Yes — but not in a “look at my toned arms and peaceful aura” way.

More like, “I like how it makes me feel alive, even when I’m struggling to balance on one foot while internally screaming.”

Yoga reminds me I’m human. Wobbly, tired, sometimes dramatic, but trying.

And at the end of each session, when I lay flat in Savasana (a.k.a. the “just lay there” pose), I feel something close to magic.

Or maybe it’s just relief.

Either way, I’ll take it.