“I Can’t Do Yoga—” and Other Lies We Tell Ourselves

By Leslii Stevens ERYT500, YACEP Trauma-Informed Yoga Teacher

Yoga is for everybody. And every body.


“Oh, I can’t do yoga—I have bad knees.” 

“I’d love to, but my back is a mess.” 

“I’m too old.” 

“Too stiff.” 

“Too out of shape.” 

“Too… everything.” 

I hear it almost every day. Not just as a yoga teacher, but when my students casually mention they’re going to yoga after work, at a family gathering, or out in the wilds of the grocery store line. That statement “I do yoga” is like a magnet for people’s fears and insecurities. And the response that often follows is some variation of, “I could never do that.” 

Let me be clear: yes, you can. 

Yoga isn’t about twisting yourself into a pretzel. It’s not a photo shoot on a mountain top. It’s not an Instagram challenge or a one-size-fits-all prescription. Yoga isn’t a performance. Yoga is yours. It’s a tool. A support. A flashlight for dark corners and a compass when life spins sideways. 

Yoga can be modified for back pain with props and care.

“I Can’t Do Yoga, I Have Back Pain” 

Then yoga is exactly where you should be. Not in the back row of a power yoga class where the teacher's shouting Sanskrit and flipping upside down like a Cirque du Soleil audition, but in the right class, with the right teacher who knows how to meet your spine where it’s at. 

Yoga, when taught skillfully and therapeutically, can ease chronic pain, not aggravate it. It can teach your nervous system how to downshift from fight-or-flight, create more space around the injury, and invite in mobility where there’s stiffness and fear. 

Back pain? I see you. And I’ve got blocks, bolsters, breathwork, and a thousand modifications that meet you on the mat, without pushing you off a cliff. 

Chairs, walls, and props make yoga accessible for sensitive joints.

“I Can’t Do Yoga, My Knees Are Shot” 

I have one word for you: chairs. Or maybe walls. Or padded mats. Or waterfall pose with your legs up a wall while wrapped in a blanket burrito. (That’s a real thing. You're welcome.) 

The yoga we offer is joint-aware, trauma-informed, and deeply compassionate. It understands cartilage, synovial fluid, scar tissue, and that surgery from 1998 you still feel every time it rains. It’s yoga that includes people with joint replacements, chronic injuries, and pain that isn’t visible but oh-so-real. 

You don’t need to sit cross-legged or squat like a ninja. You just need to show up and listen. 

“I’m Too Old for Yoga” 

No, friend. You are too wise to put up with yoga that doesn’t fit you. 

The oldest yogi I’ve worked with was 96 years old. He showed up every week in a cardigan and Velcro sneakers. He didn’t care about downward dog. He came for the breath, the laughter, and the ritual of moving with his body instead of against it. 

You’re never too old to breathe, move, and feel connected.

Yoga doesn’t have an age limit. What it has is adaptability, humility, and grace. If your teacher doesn’t know how to adjust a pose for you or make you feel welcome, they’re not the right teacher. That’s not your fault. That’s on them. 

Flexibility isn’t a prerequisite. It’s a side effect.

“I’m Not Flexible Enough for Yoga” 

This is like saying, “I’m too dirty to take a shower.” 

Flexibility isn’t a prerequisite. It’s a side effect. But even that’s not the point. We’re not here to make you more bendy we’re here to help you feel better. To breathe deeper. To reclaim your body from pain, trauma, or years of believing it betrayed you. 

Real Yoga Is for Real People 

The truth is, most of the people I work with aren’t ex-gymnasts or dancers. They’re caretakers. Survivors. Single moms. Grieving parents. People coming out of surgeries, divorces, and decades of disconnection from their bodies. They don’t come to yoga to perform. They come to remember themselves. 

They’re in pain, but they’re also brave. 

They’re anxious, but they show up anyway. 

They’re aging, but they’re aging like rock stars—with heart, soul, and a killer playlist. 

The Mat Is a Mirror, Not a Stage 

The mat is a mirror—not a stage.

You don’t need to “fix” yourself before you try yoga. Come exactly as you are scars, stiffness, stories and all. The right yoga class isn’t about fitting in. It’s about being seen. Heard. Held. And slowly, patiently, reclaiming your strength on your own damn terms. 

So the next time someone says “I can’t do yoga,” smile softly. 

And tell them the truth: 

“You just haven’t found the right class yet.”