Friday, June 08, 2018

It's a Brand New Day

Life, dear friends and readers, has a way of slapping you across the head, spinning you around, and changing your whole direction. And life did that to me a few months ago. Of course the blog suffered during this time, and while my initial impulse was to spew, I waited. Waited until things settled, until I felt steadier on my feet, sure of the crazy path life carved out before me.

Things began to change when I started rewriting my Mexican novel recasting the characters as two men: one human and one dragon shifter. Two men in love. And my intense identification with the human character shook my world up as I struggled to make sense of my own gender. Coupled with reading The Argonauts, I realized my struggle wasn't so much about confusion as about acceptance. I'm gender queer, fluid, whatever you want to call it. I don't really like nonbinary because I don't feel nonbinary. Instead I feel like I have this flow of energies, masculine and feminine that never quite congeal into something coheret. I am always a bit of both. It's why I'm not going to ever change my sex organs but I do indulge in the day dream where I have a detachable penis (my strap on and harness of made that a bit of a reality but I'll spare you the details).

I told H thinking he'd be cool with it. Shit's been bad in our marriage for awhile but I'm good at pretending. Pretending it's all okay. Pretending we're this happy family. But shit was way more complicated. We were existing. Tolerating each other. Tolerating a half life. Both of us. But accepting this truth about myself changed things for me and I hoped it would make shit work better in my marriage. Long story short, H had already found a replacement, and he ended things the week of our eighteen year wedding anniversary. It was a pretty stormy time with him handing me half truths, and me stumbling upon the truths.

After a lot of anger, mostly about the dishonesty, fear because folks I haven't worked in seven years and gave up everything to move here, and intense emotional pain because eight-teen years is a long fucking time to be with someone. After, I woke up morning able to breath with the realization I was free to be myself for the first time in a long time. I no longer had to pretend to be the good wife, the good female, the mother, the lovely middle class person, I'd tried so hard to be. No. I was free to be a Witch, a queer, a kinky person who liked a bit of pain (or a lot of) with their pleasure. I could be poly something I feel deep in my bones is the way I am meant to live my relationship. No apologies for my parenting. No apologies for my choices.

In the last few months, I've spent a lot of time in thought.  A lot of time imagining what I could be. I joined a Fet community. Went to a kinky Con. Meet an amazing man who is as poly as I am. Who lets me be myself. Who isn't scared of that self. I've added new friends to the already incredible friend base I have here. I let my community bouy me up when things seemed too much. I realized how much love I have here in Athens, and from everywhere. Support ya'll. Blows me away how much love a person can have.

Thus I am renewing this blog. Chronicling my reintroduction back into kink, and the rediscovering of pain, pleasure, submission, and the beauty of sexual ritual. I'm learning more and more about my role as someone who is genderqueer. I am rediscovering my children on my terms, and on their terms. I embraced being a Pagan again with a whole of joy and contentment. I am becoming once again the person I used to be but a better version of that person. Hopefully I will be starting a second MA in social work beginning in August (I've been accepted just need to get funding). And I want to chronicle not just the newness but the journeys I am taking into the past. Hopefully I'll have more eloquent offerings here about poly, kink, and other things. Stay tuned, it's a new day.

Monday, July 31, 2017

Fat Girl On A Bar: Get Back on the Damned Bar

July's goal was to write Fat Girl on the Bar: The memoir. It hasn't happened, well it hasn't been completed. I hit setbacks with unexpected emotional shit making the writing get really heavy. I'd write a few pages and found I needed to step away to process so much from my shitty body image issues to my grandmother's death. And of course the whole time, I'm writing, I'm also getting ready for our second show. My class loves to perform, and I was reluctantly drawn into the annual Festivus show last December (a great way to mark my year long journey). I figured we satisfied that itch and that would be it for awhile but then the annual summer show started getting bounced around and the next thing I know I'm negotiating us a page from a booked called Juniper Gets Wet.

Now don't get me wrong, Debbie's idea was sheer genius. She fell in love with this artist Jacob Wenzka's work whose art currently graces the walls of Canopy's icon hallway to flying. His art is whimsical and lovely with just enough of a dark edge to keep it deliciously creepy. Very fitting with Canopy, I think. Debbie comes up with this grand plan to have every act reflect a page of the story. We get the umbrella page.

Thing about umbrella page is props. And after we pick out a song (this great and yet awful mash up from Glee of Singing in the Rain and Rihanna's Umbrella), it's clear we're going to need some floor work as well. Yeah. Floor work. Oh and umbrellas which ends of hilariously disastrous.

Now I've come a long way from the girl who only danced when drunk usually at shows and when younger at gay clubs. I did a solo piece in March (totally life transforming) to a Lady Gaga song and I, get ready for this, danced with my bar. It was symbolic because the bar has become a partner to me, and in some ways almost not an inanimate object (I know, I know, woo weird here). Even though I only performed in front of my class and a few of their friends/family, it was a super big deal for me. This is the girl who at one point couldn't even perform in front of her beloved classmates. During the whole performance, I, for the first time, believed myself to be strong, graceful...a dancer.

But performing with a group is a whole different dynamic. It means following ques so you're in sync. It's impossible to just let go the way I did with a solo piece. I knew this going since we had done our Festivus piece which was pretty amazing and iconic (we were wrapped in lights). But it's a good different. I think forcing myself to think of my classmates, work with others, choreograph moves that work for everyone is a really useful exercise. It brought out the best of us for the Festivus show BUT things were a little different this time around. Three of original members had moved on, and another member was sidelined due to a shoulder injury (leaving me as the oldest member of our class).

And of course I was about to find out I have rheumatoid arthritis. June went by fast, and in relative peace. We spent a lot of learning this horrible mount called Lion in the Tree. Adrianne and I discovered that landing the wrong way feels like a kidney punch. We all got bruises on our sides from landing on the bar. It's a beautiful mount, and perfect for the piece since we all run, swing out and click out heels together before flying back to hop on the bar. By July we can do the mount but not at the height needed to do the other moves. I come up with an idea of raising our bar while we do our floor work. Oh the floor work.....yeah. I'm awful at it. Stiff and weird moving because not only can I not really dance, I can no longer walk normally. But I persist along with everyone else cause it's so damn cute to see us all strutting to the middle with our red umbrellas.

Of course July is when I started writing so I'm hashing over my first year of trapeze and interconnecting those moments of pain and revelation to my grandmother's death, Jude's diagnosis, my struggling feelings with my incredible failing body, and aging. I sometimes go to bed crying, and I always leave my writing feeling this intensity of emotion that I can't quite put a name to or even want to really deal with as the dark closes in on my room. I go to trapeze every week in varying degrees of pain but once I get into the air all this shit leaves. I am thankful after every class that trapeze only hurts me in the normal way. When I first got the actual "You have RA," I cried against H's shoulder scared I'd lose the bar. But so far I am okay....except we have to perform, and I know I have a flare coming up. I can count on them.

Monday before the show weekend, I felt utterly amazing. I haven't felt this good since I saw my mom back in mid-June. Feeling encouraged, I take two ten minute walks around our neighborhood. By Monday night, my right ankle is severely swollen and my left aches as if in sympathy. By Tuesday, I can't walk, can barely get out bed, and am in tears from the pain. I ended up calling my doctor. Wednesday is her day off but I see another Dr. in the practice who takes on look at my RA Factor test and offers me a steroid shot. I haven't seen the number, and now I'm worried it's high. I readily agreed to the shot because before they kept me pain free for a week at least. Foolish me gets it in the arm, and I'm aching by the time I get into class on Thursday but I have two perfect runs. My ankle only aches in a tiny way.

I needed Thursday, two perfect runs of our routine. I fall during dress rehearsal and that haunts me. But two clean runs leaves me feeling good. Being pain free increases my euphoria.  Friday I am nervous but pretty excited. There's always this kind of calm that hits me right before we go because at this point you're left to the fates. You're either going to nail it or not. And that run ya'll. It was perfect. I hit every move. I sauntered to the front. I leaned into mermaid with strength and grace. I could feel the lines of my body. I held spear and split with ease. I got back up in mountain climber. I left that floor high and bouncing. I'd done it. No pain either. All I could think was that if the second show was better, I was going to fucking shine.

And then I woke up Saturday morning with some stiffness in my right ankle.

It wasn't too bad, and I managed to get some shopping done. I would have skipped the shopping and likely should have skipped the shopping but we needed food. I needed glitter. I'd done mermaid scales on my head for the show, but wanted something different. I took a nap and things felt okay when I got up. By the time we got on the floor, I knew it was going to be hard but I still didn't feel too awful. Music ques, we get out there, third in line, and everything starts fine. I do my double piece: hip balance (of which I'm inordinately proud) with Adrianne above me in angel. I grab my umbrella and hold it in front of me. Perfect. I roll out and get over to my bar. I see Horacio and his sister. I want this to be a perfect run for them. I do my little hip shimmy with a big grin at H, and I run forward and hit the heel click but I falter because there are some little kids right there. Then the bar swings out of my arm, and when I step on my ankle to swing, it buckles. I miss the mount.

MISS THE MOUNT WITH ALL THESE PEOPLE STARING AT ME. I want to cry. I want to crawl of the mat to Ashley. But I don't do any of these things. "GET ON THE DAMN BAR" I tell myself and then I do it. As my bar careens wildly, I hop into the mount (no small feat) and throw my arms out even as I crash into one of my classmates. I stumble off, miss our que for the umbrella but still damn it, I'm going to strut to my place. I get through it all. The second part is flawless which is hilariously where I had placed all my fear. We get out and everyone else is high. Thrilled with their performance. I'm in tears. They assure me that likely no one noticed but it's such a downer for me because I had such a great run on Friday.

Of course no one but those in the know noticed. H had no clue I had missed the prompt. Neither did his sister and I doubt if most of the audience noticed. But I noticed.

Here's the thing. I'd just been writing about this aspect of myself in trapeze. Seriously the last thing I'd written about was this thing I have about being good enough. Or I should this thing about not ever being good enough. My kids' art club did an art show last summer, and one of the things they did was create a wall where you could write what you fear. I wrote "Failure" and their teacher called me on it.

"I don't think you're afraid of failure," she challenged me.

I thought about it because I thought it was a pretty accurate description of my life.

"I'm always scared to do things," I tell her.

"Really?" she says, "You have an MA, you applied for a PhD. You took my creativity class and you're doing trapeze. These are all things that could have lead to failure."

After some thinking, I realized she was right. What I was actually scared was not being good enough at these things. I've spent a lot of my life worried that I wasn't enough. Pretty enough. Smart enough. Good enough. And because I wasn't enough, I didn't get love or nice things or comfort, etc. And because I always doubt if I'm enough, I end up quitting a lot of things. I take rejection ridiculously hard. Trapeze has pushed me in this area. I am not naturally good at trapeze. In fact at times I'm pretty awful. I am not the best in our class and all too often am the last person to learn a new move. I almost quit a dozen times but I love trapeze. I do it because I love it and I almost need it. It doesn't matter if I'm good enough or the best. The bar doesn't care. It just calls me to get back on.

Sunday was a shit too but it was okay. While it was the only we got video, and I could see all my mistakes, every wince, every limp, I also could see someone who stuck it out for one more show. I was in excoriating pain while I performed but I did it. I did it for me. For my wonderful classmates. For the audience. For Canopy. Because when you commit to a show it's not just about you. It's about your community.

And man does a show reveal the intimacy and strength of that community. We all cheered each other on beyond our own classes. We joked and hugged. We shared glitter. On Sunday, while I suffered, everyone checked on me. Everyone made a point of making sure I was okay. I got lots of hugs, lots of encouragement and lots of cheers. And even better was I saw the show with new eyes. When I'm feeling wrapped up in myself, that feeling of not being good enough, it's easy to let jealousy creep into my life. I looked at the other pieces on Saturday and compared. They had more complicated moves. Their make up looked better. I would never look like these women. On and on. But on Sunday, I watched with appreciation that I got to be a part of all this wonderful and light. I could openly love the submarine piece (my favorite) and feel pride in the performers. The silk piece took my breath away with it's beauty. My teacher Ashley shone on the bar. And the Lyra stuff always just makes me gasp at their strength...and so on. It was a wonderful end to an amazing show weekend, and while I am looking forward to a nice long break, I also know that showing is really essential to this experience.

(Side note: Best part of this show was walking out for a final bow hand and hand in with my daughter. This was the first time Camille and I were in a show together, and I hope it won't be the last).

Wednesday, June 28, 2017

Life Kind of Happened. Again.

So life got interesting for us. Again. As usual. The way it goes.

(This is going to be one of my chatty update posts but I have a bunch outlined on various political things happening in the good ole USA).

Last summer, H and I decided we wanted to make Athens our permanent home. We love it here. Our kids love it here. Canopy exists here.

 H took a job at a local Middle School (where's he loved and appreciated like you wouldn't believe). I decided at that point that I was too old and too tired to keep homeschooling the younger two. Jude is so curious and so bright and I really was failing her at homeschooling. She just needed more. Between my depression, anxiety, and burgeoning health issues (more on that later), I had nothing to give. I enrolled R first, then Jude, and then Piper decided she wanted to give it a go. What a year ya'll. R had an amazing year with about the best K teacher I could have picked for her. She loved school, loved riding the bus, loved making friends. Academically she took off going from barely writing her her name to reading at a second grade reading level by the end of K. Piper has a rocky start but once she settled she sailed through the year. She made friends, joined clubs and band, and got incredible grades.

Jude was...well a lesson in how far our district has to go. She started as do all three years with special needs in the Early Learning Center. Three days a week for three hours each day. Jude loved school. She got her backpack ready the day before, and waited eagerly for her bus. I had issues. Expectations were too low. They didn't want to give us a seat in the PreK program. On and on it went. We ended up with a compromise with Jude still being in a separate program that meets all day five days a week. I'm good with it because it's a small class with two aides. But I let them know up front that we would accept nothing less than a regular classroom for K. We'll see if they honor that request. If not...well we'll lawyer up.

I thought that being home without kids for a chunk of my day would mean so much writing. But no. I got this awful rejection last summer which put a huge hole in my confidence. I haven't really written anything since November. And even that I second guessed every word I put on paper. Mostly I read a lot of M/M romance. Some paranormal. Some not. I exercised a lot. Did lots of trapeze (including my first show in December). And I cataloged my body falling apart.

My body became the focus on my life. Or more accurately my body in pain became the focus of my life. I started running again in the spring of last year. I ran all summer until I was easily doing 5k three days per week. When I decided to improve my speed, my shins went so I stopped. When I started again, I developed intense pain in my heel that radiated up my ankles. I stopped running, did the stretches, the rolling etc. Nothing helped. The pain would go away sometimes for weeks and then return. The flare ups weren't predictable. When they hit I couldn't walk and sometimes couldn't even get up. Over Christmas, H had to pump shampoo and conditioner into my hand because I didn't have the strength to do it myself.  Dr visits were exercises in frustration. I was diagnosised with bursitis, plantar fascistic, gout.  Xrays on my hands which swelled up like balloons showed nothing. I mentioned RA a few times but was dismissed. I thought it was fibro but since steroids cleared up the pain it seemed unlikely.

Your life gets interesting when it centers around pain. Pain that is unpredictable wrecked havoc with my need to feel in control. It's hard to plan anything when you don't even know if you'll be able to walk. People don't believe you with either. Not just doctors but people around you. And when you're saddled with exhaustion and fatigue it's meet with even more disbelief. Sorry I can't do my kid's field trip like I promised but I'm so tired I literally can't get out of bed. Or maybe it's I feel like I'm walking on glass with every step I take. Mentally it's hard too because I live in this constant of anxiety that the pain will hit. I wake up in the morning not knowing if I'll be able to get up without help.


Last month, I had the worst flare up yet.  H and I went to Ikea even though I was having a fair amount of pain. I stopped to rest a lot but still it was bad by the time we finished. As we moved our furniture onto the van we rented, every step yielded excruciating pain. I foot felt broken. After the hour and half drive home, I couldn't even walk into the house without help. The joints were stiff, swollen, red, hot, unyielding. Nothing over the counter touched the pain. I lay in bed that night shivering with a low grade fever in agonizing pain. When I went to see the Dr. two days later for my establishment visit, both my ankles were still swollen. Luckily this Dr. took me seriously. So anyway it looks like I do have RA. I can't see the rhumey until October. Meanwhile the flare ups are coming monthly now and the pain is pretty constant no matter what I do or don't do. I'm still doing trapeze, still moving my body cause it I stop things get even worst.

I've got a lot to write about with this new stage of my life. It's scary. Daunting. I've had more than one melt down. But I think the activism I started with Jude makes a huge difference in how I see what's happening to my body. So I'm going to write about that as well as why the new healthcare bill scares the shit out of me as I look towards my future. And of course there will be stuff about trapeze, Jude, other beasties, and all the things you've come to love about the blog.

Friday, September 16, 2016

Fat Girl On A Bar: My Incredibly Failing Body

Summer was good. I made all my trapeze goals. I got stronger, and it showed. I have definition in my arms and am starting to get that low line of hard muscle in my thighs. For a long time, I didn't feel strong and it was a strange feeling. While I've never been the poster girl for being fit, I've always found myself to be relatively in shape. I like doing physical things from biking to hiking. And right before I got pregnant with R I discovered the pleasure in conditioning my body. But then shit feel apart when we moved here.

Yeah, depression happened but other things too. My body hit forty and sputtered out. Once I managed the depression, my next step involved feeling strong again. But I hit roadblock after roadblock. I haven't talked much about this but I live with a bit of pain. My joints ache often and I have flare ups about three months that make it hard to even get out of bed.   When I started to run again my knees went first. I'd rest them but as soon as I started up the pain returned. I sadly realized I'd likely not be able to run anymore. Then I started having sciatica pain which put an end to all exercise. I tried to walk because I read that you should move. Holy hell the pain. I hobbled around our neighborhood feeling miserable. Where was the strong person I used to be?

Trapeze turned everything around. Well, that and PT for the sciatica. Sure I still have pain but trapeze helped me to seek ways to make it better. Stretching taking care of the hip stuff,  and I discovered that exercise actually helped the other pain. If I pushed myself everyday, the flare ups weren't as bad and the daily pain manageable. I wanted to be strong for trapeze and I worked for it. Worked hard. And it happened.

The strong woman returned.

I started running again with no knee pain.

And then a couple of weeks ago, I woke up with intense ankle pain. I iced it, taped it, and after a few days it seemed better. I went to trapeze. It hurt but I could push through it. A few days of fine and then I woke up and couldn't put any weight on it. Even resting it hurt. I tossed all night in pain. I hobbled around for a week. No exercise. And the other joints started to hurt. My fingers stayed slightly bent as straightening them hurt. My elbows. My shoulders.

After seven days, I figured out what I'd done. I collapsed my arch. The injured foot has a visibly smaller arch than the other. The tendon that runs along the inside of my ankle hurts a great deal. I'm going to need more PT and likely an orthic. I might be able to save what little arch I have left. I could likely train to run again but I'm not feeling so inclined. I'm just happy to get back to the elliptical and my weights.

All this set the stage for what happened last week in trapeze class. Like I said I've been in pain for about ten days. I missed a trapeze class already so I really wanted to make this one.  But I wasn't at my best. We practiced our individual routines put together a couple of weeks before. I could do all of my routine but the mountain climber. I needed it to move from candlestick to perch. Mountain Climber is this move that involves one knee hooked over the bar, you drop your straight leg fast so fast that in theory you propel yourself up. This involves grabbing the robe aka letting go of the bar on the upswing.

That night. Rough. Already feeling weak and in low grade pain, I did the move over and over. I failed over half the time. When I did manage to get the rope, I fumbled around barely able to get myself up. It was as Piper used to say "Not pretty. Not beautiful." And the whole point of class was working on making it look good. When we were done, our instructors asked us to perform for our classmates. I couldn't do it. I was the only member who didn't do it. But I knew if I got on that bar, I was going to sob. As we got ready to go, classmates tried to talk to me but I couldn't say anything. I knew if I opened my mouth the tears would come. I cried all the way home.

First, I thought about my classmates. How shitty that I hadn't performed when they all did? We were a class. A sisterhood. I'd let them down. Second, I fretted about the nature of trapeze. The kind of trapeze I do is called aerial dance. But I couldn't dance. And if I couldn't dance could I really continue to do trapeze?

But the real problem lay deep inside. A fundamental problem with how I see myself.  I'd called it failure but a wise woman pointed out that I'm not afraid to fail as I try new all things often. No. It's the fear of not being good at things. Not being perfect. Not being the best. Although there was a failure in this moment. I failed in my attempts to start see myself differently. That last one hurt the most. As I said, I've never really had a hard time seeing myself as strong. I'm pretty realistic about it, and I know I've been at lows in terms of strength. But when I hit the high points I knew it. And during the lows? I always knew the highs could be achieved.

Being graceful though? Nope I never have ever thought of myself as graceful. I love ballet. Have loved it since I was a kid and saw Baryshnikov dance in the Nutcracker. I longed to be able to look that beautiful. To move across the floor like a dream. Like I could fly. Funny dream for a child who tripped over her own feet. A child who once fell down a flight of stairs putting her knee through a glass plate window. I fell out of trees. Off my bike. Walking on stone walls. I had zero grace. Gravity ate me up. Still I watched dancers, all kinds of them, with a ravenous desire. The first time I saw the repertoire group at trapeze, that same stirring rose up once again. I wanted to glide through the air, take grace out for a turn while gravity tries to pull me down.

And that night I failed. All those feelings from when I was little rose up again. The pain of knowing I'd never be beautiful. Graceful. I could see myself strong but I could not see myself dancing. Ever. Funny thing is that I walk around all the time imagining myself doing various tricks to songs I'm listening too. I can see myself hitting ques transforming songs into expression. However on the bar, the self-doubt rests like a mantle. A heavy mantle. I knew that this was my next hurdle.

I am going to have to push past this self doubt. It's my next step. I need to get on that bar and dance. I'm going to push past self doubt and all those feelings of ridiculousness. I'm going to tell gravity to go fuck herself for a bit and I'm going to try on grace. I doubt if I'm going to be running off with the circus anytime soon but I am going to push through this wall. I've got a song ready (Mumford and Sons Lover of the Light), and I have some plans. Let's see if Grace has some mercy on my body if not my soul.

Sunday, July 31, 2016

Fat Girl On A Bar: Trapeze Changed My Life

Last Thursday marked the end of summer session at Canopy. We worked hard on conditioning moves something that we'd been doing all summer with an instructor who worked with us a long time ago. At some point, she said "You all are so much stronger than when I worked with you last time." We all flushed with pride. And it's true. We are not the same eight women who started trapeze back in January. We've not just stronger. We're more skilled. We're more confident. And we're a lot closer. I didn't think that taking trapeze was going to include getting close with a bunch of awesome women. I also didn't think it was going to have such a dramatic effect on my life.

But here I am seven months later, a different person.

About three weeks ago, I meet my first summer goal which was simply to do a hip pullover. It was very anticlimactic. No one saw me. It came after a night spent in frustration and tears. We learned a new routine and I felt incredibly weak after not being able to complete it. The summer session gave me a taste of success as did the tail end of the spring session. I mastered surrender and the pinnacle in my mind, catcher's climb. For the first time in forever I felt strong. I started running again and could do four mile runs. Without stopping. And then this class came. Partly it was just that kind of day when you feel raw and turned inside out. Partly it was because not being able to do the thing meant that I wasn't as strong as I thought. I stood there in tears at one point just holding those ropes and I thought "Fuck it might as well try." I swung my legs up and they wrapped around the rope. No one saw me. No fanfare. It reminded me of that time I got to my "goal" weight.

Next class came and as we started to do the routine again, I did the pull over without even thinking about it. I'd already done it a few times in open studio. And the room erupted in applause. Tears stung my eyes again but this time because everyone witness that moment. Those women knew how hard I worked to get this point. "Nope," I thought, "This wasn't like my goal weight at all. This was a real victory."

As we stretched out, we talked about how we felt about this session. I told everyone "Trapeze totally saved my life." And I flushed a bit at how dramatic that sounds. But it did in so many ways. Not just taking trapeze but before that when I got to hang out while the girls did classes. Just being in Canopy made me feel better. The instructors welcomed me along with my children. Some days when shit just felt bad, going into the studio for a kids' class soothed me. I didn't get why it worked. Now I kind of understand. Now that I am working the magic too.

Canopy feels like it's filled with magic. It's all the wonder of my childhood with its bright fabrics hanging in the back and the big rusted red moon on the wall. The light pouring in from the windows by the ceiling halos the room like a spotlight. The bars down with the kids learning their tricks is like all my dreams of being in the circus. I didn't have to run away. I just got to be there. Excuse me for my mystical moment but I wonder sometimes if all the joy and wonder Canopy produces somehow soaks the place.

When I started classes, I got to add to that energy. I connected with Canopy in a different way the moment my hands touched the robes, my feet the bar. Suddenly I was in the circus. It felt pretty damn special.

My depression has shifted in many ways since I started trapeze as has my relationship with my body. I feel strong and beautiful. I feel like my body is light enough to fly but strong enough to lift itself into positions I didn't imagine possible in January. I knew trapeze shifted Camille's life in important ways but I had no idea it would do the same fore for me. My depression is never gone but it's managed and now just for the meds. Trapeze satisfies that restless, listless feeling depression brings me. I can't imagine a life without trapeze in it. Even with the frustration and the failure I wouldn't ever want to not keep at it.

Last week, I finally managed with a lot of help to get up on the circus bar. Circus bar is different than the dance bar with it's steel bar and two points instead of a single point. It's also higher. I loved it. Loved being that high. I sat up there and looked down at the studio. The air was my element. Joy. Total joy. I wanted to laugh and dance and weep. Being up there I saw a future filled with all kinds of new things to learn not just on the dance bar but on the circus bar, the slings, the invented equipment. A whole world of possibilities. Years of work ahead. Good work that makes the body grow stronger. As I sat up there, I realized I had no fear. The only thing I feared in trapeze I realized was failure. And now sitting on my couch and not on the bar, I know that even failure isn't something to be feared. Fail once. Fail again. Fail better.

Sunday, May 15, 2016

Fat Girl On A Bar: Surrender

It's been a long time since I posted a status report on trapeze. I am still at it but there was this crossroads moment a couple of weeks ago that required some thinking through. I got home from that class beat up. I mean seriously just beat up. I had what turned out to be second degree rope burn under my knee from where my capri's rode up and my bare legs slid down the rope. I had lesser rope burn on my ankles and my fingers were so messed up I couldn't close them fully. H took one look at me and was "Like what the fuck?" I kind of felt like that too. It wasn't that the class was over the top hard or even frustrating. I still struggled with one sequence but I felt good about the other one. I just realized that I was the only person in the class who couldn't do both and it was kind of a whoa moment. Like you don't want to be the person who is holding everyone back. That's the struggle for me with group exercise. There's all those other people. I decided that night that I was giving myself the summer to get it and if it didn't click I was going to start over. Or maybe just stop.

Time only made my decision seem right. I've taken up running again and over the last few weeks, my time spent actually running (a loose term for my movement I admit) has increased rather dramatically. First a 5k seemed totally doable and the other day I realized that when I hit week 8 of Zombies, Run, I'd be able to easily run a 5k. Then I started to think about running the Athens Half. Second, I fell back in love with running. I always hate it at first but then at some point the joy hits. Being able to do it without my body falling apart like it did last year is even better. But also I loved being alone. I know I'm slow so I don't plan on winning any medals but it doesn't matter cause no one is going to lose shit if I'm slow. I'm just a good person for you to pass and maybe make you feel better about your pace. I'm super cool with that role. Oddly running just doesn't ever made me feel competitive. It's always been about the love of the solitude of it all.

I had a plan for trapeze. Yeah the summer. But I wasn't going to half wing it. I made arrangements to take a couple of private sessions with another classmate and an instructor who I knew could help me. I also signed up for a conditioning class with my trapeze guru Ann. Then I did thing I used to do when I fall in love with someone impossible. I did it with H. I backed off. If I could manage to build a wall around my tender emotional heart thingie, then when the person ultimately rejected me, I'd be sheltered a bit from the storm. It's never worked. Didn't work with H and of course ya'll know the end of that story. But falling in love is just sometimes painful and no matter what I did I just couldn't help throwing it all in the ring. I'm an all or nothing kind of person. Go big or go home. That's me when it comes to love. And yeah it doesn't matter if I get my heart  broken over and over. But I figured I'd try again. After all I had a lot of love already in my life. Trapeze didn't have to be that hill right?

Despite a week off to let new skin grow under my knee, I didn't feel any enthusiasm as the next Thursday rolled around. I talked about it with my friend who ended up not being able to go. I wanted to stay home and work on my novel which after having jumped the shark for a while was back on track. My friend wasn't going to be there and it would suck without her. I had a whole list of reasons to keep my distance but I ended up just sucking it up and going. And of course the whole night was a reminder of both why I love and hate trapeze.

The entire first half to the class was devoted to me failing. Move after move of Ginger just can't do the thing. I sat there at one point exhausted and right on that edge of feeling like a total failure. But I made that conscious decision I've mentioned before of not going down that path. "You're not out here to be a professional." And the whole while I kept up that studied indifference. Oh yeah hai bar I'm not really into you. But of course I felt my heart breaking a little as we learned another move that I couldn't do.

At some point, someone from the intermediate class called over "Nice hip hang" after I fell out of the move I was supposed to be doing and sent myself into a wild spin. I thought "Seriously?" But because I couldn't argue with whoever called out the compliment I was stuck with it. I sat on the floor for a minute to get my bearings. And then I thought "Someone just complimented you on the move that you hate the most in the world.  The move that you sucked at for so long. The move that you had to fight fear to do." I got up feeling a little dizzy. "You just did hip hang while spinning." I DID HIP HANG ON A MOVING BAR.

When Jo announced we were doing surrender, I was calm. I didn't think I could do it. And I still had that summer plan in mind but now it was different. I wouldn't quit. I might have to redo a beginner's class but I wasn't leaving trapeze. I worked hard for the little bit I knew and while it wasn't nearly as impressive as some of the other things people could do it was a pretty big deal for me. I watched Jo show us the movements and I thought "That's not as bad as I thought." I've watched all my kids learn surrender and every time I am always just like "Wow." It's a pretty move and it looks damn impressive from the floor. But watching Jo do it I thought "I can do that." And I felt my heart perk up. "Get down," I thought sternly, "We're not quitting but that doesn't mean we're falling in love either."

I got up on the bar with my ugly little half hop thing and I stood. I'm good at standing. I usually wait for the others to try it first but this time. This time I wanted this to much to wait. And I wanted to do it alone with everyone working on it. No eyes on me. I stuck my leg out toe pointed like a damn lady and I wrapped it around the rope. For some that tight feeling it left might be panic inducing but I liked the way it held my leg in place. I was trapped but it was okay. I made sure my ankle was against the elbow and then I kicked my free leg forward and back and I slid off the fucking bar. There was only a second hesitation, a moment when I felt a panicked "Oh fuck what have you done?" My lets slid down and the ropes snapped under my arms cradling me. I hung there with my arms out and my back arched held from the ground by the bar that I realized at that moment I couldn't help but love.

Surrender is the move that encapsulates my aerial dance experience. It's aptly named. I step off the bar and I release myself to the ropes. To my body. Trusting my body is not something at which I exel. And I suspect many of my problems with trapeze involve this fundamental mistrust. I don't trust my body to pull me over the bar. I don't trust my body to hold weight in my hands. But on Thursday night I step into the air and let the ropes catch me. I aung there suspended with my arms out and my legs bend with nothing between the ground and I but a bar and a pair of white ropes. It is a strange moment. A peaceful moment. An act of letting go. Of surrender. Kind of like when you fall in love.


Sunday, April 17, 2016

Fat Girl On A Bar: Exercise Sweet Spot

I admit it! My running friends sometimes made me want to bury my head in a pillow and yell "NO MORE." Now don't get me wrong I am proud of their accomplishments and yes impressed at their dedication. What I couldn't get was the love that was so strong they wanted everyone to run.

Now I get it. Cause trapeze. I am obsessed. Officially. I read blogs about it. I read articles about it. I pin exercices that show how to prepare for the perfect inversion. I've got a scary recollection for the moves (doesn't hurt that I've watched trapeze for two and a half years). If you're around, I'm going to talk to you about trapeze. I'm also going to say "Hey if I can do trapeze? You can do trapeze. What are you waiting for? It's amazing. Go check out a show. Hey have you heard of Canopy? What? You need a place to send your kid? How about you? I'm pretty sure I'm annoying as hell. And I'm also certain my friends read my posts with the same "Oh god here she goes again" that I used to kind of thinking about the running posts.

I remember awhile ago having an online conversation with some women about motivating oneself to exercise. Most of us would go strong for awhile and then it would just taper off until we cycled back around to being the January gym people. I like running well enough (and yes I am running again) and I actually enjoy using the elliptical but neither activity created a passion that could push through mid year ennui. Once June hit, I was content to sit by the pool and read. Screw sweating. Screw making my lungs scream for air. What would motivate us? It's a question I've thought about awesome.

Here's a weird factoid about me. I'm an exercise science geek. I don't know tons but I've loved learning the little I know. I'm also utterly fascinated by sport psychology as well. I'm not so interested in famous athletes. It's a job to them and while they may love their job getting paid can no doubt push one through the ennui. What I'm into is why the average everyday person becomes an athlete. What makes a woman get up at four am to run everyday before work? Why does my friend bike for miles everyday? Why does that cool old dude at the Y swim laps for hours?

Is it the desire to be healthy? To fit a societal acceptable standard of beauty? Maybe but that certainly doesn't motivate me. And when I read these people's stories, there are these elements but there is also love and passion.

I'm calling this the exercise sweet spot. For me it's trapeze. I don't know what else but love could push me to get back on a hard ass bar when my knee pits are SCREAMING and then slam those said kneepits back onto said bar again. What else could make me wake up with rope burn and have me showing up the next week glad the old rope burn was gone because I was likely going to get some more? I've been doing trapeze since January and it's honestly been really hellish sometimes. Physically and emotionally. It's hard. The hardest exercise I've ever done. It's become a game to see where the bruises show up after class. I'll walk out of the bathroom from my shower and H just shakes his head. It's also emotionally hard. I am not a natural. Every move I do is hard earned. I've cried after classes...like sobbed. I've had to work through my perfectionist mentality, my insecurity, and my really effed up body image. I can't even imagine what shit is coming down the road.

But.

But.

I am in love. I love that feeling when a move clicks. When I'm doing something like holding all my body weight on my arms with my legs off the bar stretched out behind me. Or when I'm hanging on the bar with one foot on the rope and one knee hooked over. I feel beautiful and strong in those moves. And I'm starting to see that when I look at pictures of me on the bar. I don't see someone gross but someone who is seriously bad ass. I like that feeling.

Today during open studio, I practiced a sequence that involves a move that is not just hard for me but scares me. It's the only move that scares me. I'm not scared of the bar at all. I have a healthy respect but there's no fear. I don't mind being up a little high. I don't mind falling. But this move when I did it wrong drove the bar so deep into my thigh muscle I was in pain for a week. Every time I did it after that and it started to hurt I'd do a controlled fall. That wasn't going to work if I had to learn to go from that move to another move. Today I did it over and over and at the end, I slammed into the last move while my classmates erupted in applause. For a few seconds, I felt like a million bucks. And then I thought "Hell if you can do this one you can do spear." Which of course I couldn't do. But knowing that I can do the other one makes me feel like there is a chance I can do this other one too. I am never without motivation. Never without a goal that I need to pursue. Working for everything makes trapeze exciting and dynamic.

And trapeze drives all my other exercise. I am running and doing elliptical to yes lose some weight (I'm hauling a lot of fat onto those ropes) but also to increase my endurance and my cardio strength. I work on my abs and shoulders and my arms because I need these body parts to be strong. I'm excited/terrified because I'm taking an conditioning class with my trapeze guru, Ann. I think she may half kill me but I know I will be even more kick ass when she's done. It's all about trapeze baby I answer when people ask me what motivates me to go the Y almost every day. I'm in love and the honeymoon period ended after the first class. Bruised knee pits get you over any romantic notions you might have. Trapeze is a hard mistress but it's worth it when I feel strong, confident and beautiful flying with those white ropes and black bars.

When people ask me about motivation, I tell them find your exercise sweet spot. Push yourself outside of your comfort zone. You may have limitations due to your body for sure but I bet that within those limitations there might be more options than you imagined. And if the first thing you try doesn't work? Try something else. It's okay I think to not love a exercise. Trapeze isn't for everyone. I totally get it. I can even get why. Sometimes I wonder what the hell is wrong with me that I love it so much. But there's likely going to be something else. It might be swimming, yoga, pilates, Tai Chi, karate, biking, that HIIT class at the Y, belly dancing, hooping, I could go on and on. But I think and believe that if you can find something you love it will push  you past the midsummer slump.