The first time I ever went to a therapist, I was about six years old. I had been a child actor since the age of four. My career was the result of a random encounter with a man who approached me and my parents in a farmer’s market — his company was casting a commercial and he wanted me to be in it. 

My career just sort of snowballed, and I worked a lot. School took a backseat to my career, which was fine because I was more comfortable on a film set than in a classroom, anyway. I didn’t ride bikes or play an instrument or attend Girl Scouts, so I didn’t know how to talk to kids my own age. 

Because of this social awkwardness, people around me were concerned that being a child actor was going to screw me up and potentially turn me into a hedonistic attention-seeker. 

They weren’t wrong to worry. 

So I went to a therapist to see if having a career before you hit double digits was a major mindfuck. After an hour of playing with play-doh and being given some sort of test that identifies hedonistic attention-seekers, the therapist noted that I was a little clingy with my mom, I worried a lot, and I had perfectionistic tendencies, needing to do even insignificant things until I got them right. But it seemed that my acting work hadn’t done any major damage yet. They stamped my forehead with “Lisa is fine” and we were all relieved. I was not broken. I went back to work. 

The panic attacks started when I was about eleven. I had what I termed a “major breakdown” just before my thirteenth birthday. I was highly sensitive to everything - light, noise, emotions, worry, conflict, sadness, suffering. I felt like I had six fewer layers of skin than everyone else.

In my late teens, my career was going well. I followed up Mrs. Doubtfire with Independence Day, and if box office gross correlated with mental health I would have been doing great.

But it doesn’t and I wasn’t.

My anxiety, depression, and panic attacks had become debilitating and my life no longer felt like my own. Life felt like it was collapsing around me. I sat on the edge of my bathtub with a razor blade in my hand. I realized if I was going to survive myself, that I needed help. But mental wellness can be expensive, and as a working actor (not the “movie star” some assumed) therapy was not always in my budget. 

I needed to leave L.A. The Hollywood life was not for me, with its superficiality, misogyny, and endless competition. At age 22, I moved across the country to find a life that wouldn’t leave me curled up in a ball sobbing. When I got to Virginia, I thought everything would be different. But changing your external circumstances doesn’t fix your internal issues. So I started doing the inner work. Cognitive Behavioral Therapy. Meditation. Yoga. Therapeutic Writing. I got very, very honest about the work I needed to do. It wasn’t easy. It took a long time. And it saved my life.

Eventually, I realized that I wanted to share the things that had helped me cope with debilitating anxiety. I wanted to teach and share and let others know they are not alone.

So I trained at the world-class Kripalu Center for Yoga and Health. I studied with renowned meditation teachers Jon Kabat-Zinn and Sharon Salzburg. I did advanced training on the topics of therapeutic yoga, yoga for trauma, Vinyasa yoga, Yoga Nidra, Yoga for Veterans, compassion fatigue, and mindful resilience. I’ve taught hundreds of hours of mindfulness classes all over the country. I’ve led four-day retreats for Combat Veterans with post-traumatic stress. I’ve led programs in retreat centers, corporate boardrooms, and summer camps.

Blue Mala is the result of everything I have learned from my phenomenal teachers and my extraordinary students. This is the resource and the community that I wish I had when I was in my darkest moments. When I didn’t know what to do, or where to turn. So if you are feeling that way, know that this is for you.

Welcome home. 

xo,

~ Lisa