What happened three months before I got my period? A lot. And looking back now, I can almost smile at how many small shifts were already happening inside me, long before I had the proof in my underwear. I want to share these months with you because I know how heavy the waiting can feel, how endless. Maybe a piece of my story becomes a piece of hope, or support, or simply a reminder that recovery is not linear, but it is happening even when we can’t see it.

Everyone walks a different path back toward balance. No two bodies move the same way and no two stories unfold in the same rhythm. But what I do know is that, for me, when I finally look back at that season of my life, it becomes almost obvious that something inside me was shifting, softening, preparing itself.

It was March 2023. I was back in India to prepare my yoga retreat. My first Panchakarma had been in November 2022, and I had placed so much hope into that treatment. So much trust. So much “maybe this time.” But still, no period. I kept taking my Ayurvedic herbs, kept following every instruction my practitioner had given me, kept trying to believe that I wasn’t broken. That my body wasn’t ignoring me. That maybe I just needed more time.

Once the retreat ended, my schedule was strangely open. I had two other retreats in June and July in Europe and they still needed a lot of promotion, but beyond that, nothing was anchoring me. And of course, the logical part of me said I could return to Spain, start teaching again, reconnect with my friends, step back into my routine. There was something comforting about that idea. Familiar. Predictable. Safe.

But when I imagined it more honestly, I felt this tightening in my chest. Spain also meant going back to stress, the kind that sinks into your bones quietly and slowly drains you. It meant returning to the despair of waiting for my period in an environment where I felt constantly rushed, constantly stretched, constantly running from class to class. It meant falling back into old patterns of not nourishing myself enough, of eating on the go, of feeling guilty for resting, of never really landing fully in my own body. I could already feel the fatigue of that life without even being in it.

So I asked myself: do I really have to go back? There was no true obligation, only habit. But staying in India brought its own questions. What would I do for months? And how would I manage the heat? In Goa, March is already hot, and it only becomes more intense until the monsoon arrives around June. My birthday was coming up in two weeks, and I felt myself standing at a crossroads.

I remember sitting down on my yoga mat, placing one hand on my heart and the other on my forehead — a gesture I often do when I need clarity. It’s a simple thing, but it helps me drop from the mind into the body. Ayurveda teaches that the heart carries truth, and the head carries doubt, and when the two touch, we find a bridge between them. In that moment, I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, trying to feel what my body wanted rather than what my mind insisted on.

And what came was unexpected. A softness. A sense of “stay.” Stay in India. Stay where your nervous system can breathe. Stay where you don’t have to perform. Stay where your days can be slow, even if the heat is rising. Stay where you can be held by your practice, by Ayurvedic routines, by the simplicity of life. Stay where your healing might finally have space.

I think this was actually the beginning of my recovery. Not the herbs. Not the treatments. Not the supplements. But this very moment — the decision to create the conditions my body had been begging for. To choose slowness over productivity. To choose nourishment over perfection. To choose presence over control.

Yoga became different during that time. I wasn’t trying to “achieve” anything in my practice. I wasn’t pushing myself, or performing shapes, or burning energy I didn’t have. My practice softened into slow breath, gentle movements, and long, sweet restoratives that allowed my nervous system to settle. Ayurveda, too, began to integrate into my days in very simple ways: warm meals, regular meal times, early bedtime, self-massage with oils, slow mornings instead of rushing into the day. Nothing dramatic. Nothing intense. Just care. Kindness. Consistency. And this is exactly what a recovering body needs.

At the time, I didn’t know these months were leading me straight toward my period. I didn’t know that small acts of softness were adding up. I didn’t know that my body was slowly getting the message: “You’re safe now.”

But now, looking back, it all makes sense.

After Goa, I felt pulled north, so I traveled to Dharamshala and I ended up staying for an entire month with friends.

Dharamshala changed me in a way that’s hard to articulate.

There is something about that place, the mountains holding you, the air that feels cleaner, the sense of spaciousness that expands inside your chest without you even realizing it. It’s a place where your body finally gets permission to stop gripping.

My days there were simple.
No rushing.
No plans carved in stone.
Just practice, long walks, stillness, and a kind of silence that doesn’t feel empty, it feels healing.

And on my way back to Europe, at Mumbai airport, I got my period.

Those three months weren’t magical, they were ordinary days lived differently. Days where I finally allowed myself to receive instead of constantly giving. Days where I learned, little by little, how to live in a body rather than fight with one.

And if you are in your own waiting phase right now, I want you to know something: sometimes the biggest shift is the one you don’t see right away. Sometimes your body is preparing in ways you can’t measure. Sometimes the quiet months are the most important ones. Sometimes everything is already happening, just under the surface.

As always, if you feel you need guidance on this path,gentle, personal, deeply supportive guidance, my new website is finally live, and my heart is honestly so happy to share it with you. You can explore the programs I offer for HA recovery, read more about my approach, and if you feel called, you can book a free 30-minute discovery call with me there. No pressure, just a space for connection, questions, and support.

I would love to meet you there.

Be well,

Audrey