Recently, I’ve realized something again.
I have a Pilates certification,
but I don’t live what people would probably call
“the Pilates instructor lifestyle.”
I’m not someone who stretches every single day,
maintains a perfectly sculpted body,
and spends every waking hour immersed in Pilates.
In fact,
I’m probably quite far from that image.
And because of that,
I carried a deep insecurity for a long time.
“I’m not instructor-like enough.”
“The version of myself I create for filming is fake.”
Thoughts like that stayed quietly inside me,
and some days,
they made filming feel heavy.
But lately,
something finally settled deeply into place inside me.
Even if I don’t train my body every day,
I’m extremely sensitive to small shifts and discomforts within it.
“Oh, I’m leaning slightly to the right today.”
“This posture is going to strain my lower back.”
“My breathing has become shallow.”
I can notice those tiny changes.
And I don’t think that sensitivity is some special talent.
I think it grew naturally from my desire
to live authentically and healthily
through this long life ahead of me.
I want to have a body that feels well.
I want to keep living with curiosity.
I want to create a peaceful future
with the people I love.
That desire slowly brought me closer
to my own body.
For most of my life,
I’ve had a habit of getting swallowed by “I have to.”
I have to exercise every day.
I have to keep stretching.
I have to build a workout habit.
And the more determined I became,
the more disappointed I felt
when I couldn’t keep it going.
“Not being able to continue”
quickly became,
“I’m not good enough.”
That’s how easily I lowered my own self-image.
Then one day,
I noticed something.
When my mind becomes unsettled,
my room becomes messy.
And when my room becomes messy,
my mind becomes unsettled.
For me,
my inner state always appears honestly in my surroundings.
One day,
I slowly looked around my room.
Things left sitting on the floor.
Papers stacked on the desk.
Small objects I didn’t need anymore,
yet somehow couldn’t throw away.
They looked almost like physical versions
of mental noise.
And then I realized something.
Before dieting.
Before exercise.
Before “trying harder.”
What I truly needed first
was the thing that comes before getting yourself together.
What I needed
was space.
Margin.
Breathing room.
Quietness.
When I create space in my room,
space appears in my mind too.
And somehow,
even my breathing changes.
Strangely enough,
when my room feels lighter,
I naturally start wanting to move my body.
Not stretching because I have to,
but because my body naturally wants to lengthen and breathe.
When I started trusting that feeling,
the suffocating pressure of
“I have to do Pilates every day”
slowly disappeared.
When there is space,
we naturally want to return to balance.
When there is no space,
even the act of “self-care” becomes exhausting.
That order—
that sequence—
became a very important realization for me.
My body doesn’t look like
the stereotypical Pilates instructor body
people admire online.
But now,
I’m no longer ashamed of that.
Because I like the version of myself
that notices when something is off.
When I leave myself neglected for too long,
I feel farther away from myself.
But the very moment I notice it—
that moment itself
is the sign that I’m already returning.
And I treasure that moment deeply.
Before trying to maintain exercise routines,
first create a small pocket of space in your life.
Even one small corner of a room is enough.
Even the space of a single chair is enough.
Just enough for light to enter.
When there is space,
the body begins to breathe naturally.
The heart softens naturally.
And we begin wanting to care for ourselves again.
I finally understood myself.
I don’t actually want to become
a beautiful Pilates instructor.
I simply want to feel aligned.
And I think “getting yourself together”
is not about forcing effort.
It’s about returning.
So it’s okay to have messy days.
Okay to feel motivated sometimes
and discouraged other times.
Okay to feel balanced one day
and completely off the next.
Because swaying is natural.
The version of myself I truly want to become
is someone who can accept those daily fluctuations with gentleness.
There was a time when I admired
the world’s image of the “perfect instructor,”
and felt inferior because I couldn’t become that.
But now—
I genuinely love the version of myself
who is learning to return to balance
through everyday life itself.