My life long relationship with depression & why I decided to become a Pilates Instructor
- Nov 5
- 4 min read
baby Leila says hi :)
This is a blogpost I had originally written and published onto Substack last May - mental health awareness month. I had plans to continue documenting my journey as a pilates instructor through blog posts, but as it often does, life got overwhelming (in the best ways) and so nothing else came of that blog. Therefore, having a blog element to Honeycomb Studios was hugely appealing to me (even though I have only just started to get active on our site). If anyone here read my original post (most likely only my mother) then you will notice I have reworked it quite drastically, the main points remain the same but I'd hope the writing is much better. It was also fun to look back on the hopes I had going into my first year teaching vs now a year on.
It also seems fitting to rerelease this post during November, which is mens mental health awareness month. So gentle reminder & nudge to check in the men in your life, I know especially in the fitness space where we all want to show off the strongest parts of ourselves we are more likely to hide when we are struggling. I've reattached some resources at the bottom of the post if that is helpful for anyone; and highly recommend watching the LSKD video if you haven't already.
Most of this has been covered in our podcast Sticky Notes (subtle plug for those of you interested in the behind the scenes of building Honeycomb Studios, and more in depth conversations with Rosie & I). However, for those of you who have missed all of that, my name is Leila, I am Lebanese but I was born and raised in Jeddah, Saudi Arabia. I moved to London in 2020 for university where I studied Human Geography at UCL. I am now over a year into my career as a classical pilates instructor, and have now left London for the next chapter in my life (more blogs about change/moving to come for sure). The jump from Human Geography to Pilates may seem drastic to most, but there was a clear connection for me. As a student of Human Geography, my interests have always lay in human development, more so I wanted to improve people's lives (barf, yes I know - but true).
During the last few months of my degree, I found myself burnt out with academia and applying for a master's programme that, whilst interested me, I was doing because I felt it was expected of me. This left me at a crossroads, figuring out what I truly wanted to do postgrad. I was balancing writing my dissertation, final submissions and applications, but without fail, I started every day with a Pilates class.
I was sitting on the floor of the UCL library staring at the statue of St. Michael (it was 4 pm during finals week, and every seat was taken), procrastinating working on my digital geographies essay when I turned to my friend Aysha with the idea. What if I became a Pilates instructor?
Pilates helped my mental health immensely and improved my relationship with my body. I was feeling physically stronger and woke up each morning truly looking forward to my classes. They had been, for lack of a better word, life-changing.
So, what if I could do that for others? Was there a world where I could improve someone's day, even slightly, while also pursuing a career I felt extremely passionate about?
That was my starting point, and my why.
It has continued to be my why, the reason I show up every day for my clients - even on days when the last thing I want to do is teach. It is those days specifically which remind me why I love my job so much, a simple comment from a client expressing how much they needed the class that day, how much they look forward to an hour away from their chaotic lives - those are the most rewarding days of teaching.
My goal a year ago as an instructor was to show up as my most authentic self every day. To bring reality to an industry which thrives on aesthetics & looking perfect on social media. It is why talking about my struggles with mental health feels integral to honour my why.
I have lived with depression since I was 13 years old, although I didn’t know what it was at the time. My depression has often felt debilitating. There have been, and continue to be, periods in my life where I struggle to get out of bed. Where the most mundane tasks feel like climbing a mountain. Moments where I should be filled with happiness, I have felt numb.
For a long time, I've believed that my privilege makes me unworthy of feeling depressed, especially given the terrible events happening worldwide. However, it is possible to drown in both a puddle and an ocean. You cannot compare your pain to someone else's and invalidate your own. I write this as a reminder for both myself and others.
While my closest friends and family have known about my depression for some time now, it has oftentimes taken them by surprise to realise that it is something I struggle with. To them, I didn’t fit their stereotype of someone who has depression.
I hope this can help show just how little we may know about what someone is dealing with behind closed doors. More than that, a reminder that depression looks differently on everybody.
I am lucky to have grown up in a time where mental health has been given much more awareness and acceptance than generations prior. While we have made so much progress, I see so much space for growth. For more conversations to be held. That is what I hope my sharing my story can do, to add to those discussions. I also write this in the hope that one day someone like younger Leila can read this and feel less alone.
Beyond that, there is no real ‘conclusion’. My mental health is something that I work on and take care of daily. As much as we prioritise movement and nutrition for our physical health, we should be giving our mental health the same priority.
Please check in on your friends and family x
Some resources:
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