Building a Space I Needed—And Knew Others Did Too
I started Epoch Pilates because I knew there had to be a better way to reconnect with myself, to feel strong, grounded, and more me again.
At the time I was deep in the thick of motherhood.
Like many women, I had poured everything into my family and put myself last. My body had changed (30kgs gained during pregnancy) and instead of feeling discouraged, I knew it was time to reclaim my strength in a new way.
I’d always been drawn to Pilates, not just for the movement, but for the calm strength it seemed to cultivate. But every time I looked into it, it felt a little too polished, like the industry was built for women with matching outfits, sculpted abs, and lives that looked nothing like mine. I wasn’t afraid of hard work, I was just afraid of feeling like I didn’t belong.
One day, I finally booked a mat Pilates class. It felt like a bold move, and even though I chickened out that first time and didn’t show up (social anxiety 1, me 0), something in me didn’t let go of the idea. Six months later, I gave myself the pep talk of all pep talks and walked into the studio (nervous), but hopeful. I picked a mat tucked in the corner and prayed I could keep up with the regulars.
That class was hard. I kept thinking, “I don’t think I can lift my leg one more time to do another donkey kick.” My wrists and knees hadn’t held up my new body in years, and suddenly I was asking them to support me through a full 45-minute class. Every second felt like forever but somehow, I made it through each move.
And then something really unexpected happened.
For the first time in what felt like ages, I wasn’t thinking about the email I had to send, the groceries I forgot to grab, or the call I needed to return to my Mum. I was entirely in the moment. My body was working hard, but my mind was quiet. I left that class feeling sore in all the right places, but also completely alive.
That day, I had three realisations:
I can take up space. Not in the physical sense, but emotionally, mentally. I belong in the room. I paid to be there. I’m on my own journey, and that matters just as much as anyone else’s.
I can’t let fear win. The hardest part is starting. Fear loves to keep us stuck, but when we do the one thing we’re avoiding, the path forward shows up.
I have a bigger purpose: my daughter. I thought about everything I wanted to teach her one day: to be confident, to love her body through every phase, to try new things. And I realised, I have to lead by example. What do I want her to believe about herself?
