2019 is about showing up for life, not just talking about showing up for life. Today I did!
Literally, showed up.
It was the first hoop practice for Jazzy’s Celebration of Life. Perhaps I understated a few days ago how scary it is for me to show up alongside these talented, intimidating women. I felt like Jazzy was up there cheering for me! If anyone believed that everyone was welcome, it was Jazzy. It means the world to me to be a part of this performance.
There’s so much informing my anxiety.
My skills are shit. These girls are all close friends, in and out of the hoop, and they’ve performed together innumerable times. They don’t have to learn their combos. They just get together and play until something falls into place. Then they set it. There, choreography.
Here, I show up, remedial at best – years ago – having to assess, “Do you know this? Can you do this?”
“No… Once upon a time, but never really solid…”
I didn’t want to to hold them back in any way or make them dumb it down for me.
I was at battle with myself last night. I can’t tell you many times I decided it was okay not to do this. I’m really not ready. That’s the truth.
Another equally true voice reminded me that it was about rehearsing together. I can always opt out of the performance. I want to be with the people who loved her, together doing what she loved. I knew that this was the opportunity to break through the personal barrier that kept me away from a rich part of the community I always wanted to belong to, but didn’t know how or dare.
Practice this morning was early. I’m overwhelmed with three other dance classes, and I’ve been in a moderate Fibro flare for over a month. I’m tired. My body hurts.
Christie, get up! You’ll be glad you did.
I had set the alarm for 7am – I felt proud and brave – and then I forgot to turn it on!
By some miracle I woke up at 7:45. I was, of course, relieved. Totally off the hook.
I really meant to get up, but there’s no way I could get there on time now. I lay back down.
It doesn’t matter if you’re late. Get up. You’ll be glad you did.
I didn’t question it. I didn’t fight with myself. (I was too tired.) I just put my feet down.
I was late, half an hour. As I approached the Hub, I saw only one car in the lot. That’s more intimidating than a large crowd. I almost turned around.
I approached the entry. Locked. I went to the back access. Locked.
I tried. I was triumphant. Nothing to regret. I really tried! (I was so relieved.)
I turned to leave, but stopped. I went back and rang the bell (which doesn’t reach upstairs to the dance studio, but I tried anyway). I knocked.
Running late, I left my phone! I couldn’t even message the Facebook page.
I rang and rang.
Okay. Admit defeat. Girl, you showed up. You get your gold star. And you get out of it!
I started to leave, but just couldn’t exit the parking lot, quite. Why? There was only one car. I’d been all around the warehouse. No one was up that early and working.
I just lingered. I knew if I skipped the first practice, I could talk myself out of all the rest. I stayed. I searched.
Finally, I turned to go home.
And there it was! A car exiting the lot. I got the code to bypass a key, and up I went!
I was the only one! Other than the three pros who are choreographing the thing, me.
Oh, god. I should have turned back!
I told them how scared I was. I told them I don’t want to affect the group with a garish skill gap. I told them it was Jazzy who got me there.
“I don’t know how else I showed up,” I admitted. “I talked myself out of it a million times. I’m terrified!”
“We’re so glad you’re here!” they all said, and wrapped me in a hug.
I KNEW that’s what I’d find there! But … but, but, but!
I did it. I did it. I did it!
Thank you, Jazzy. You knew.
We felt her.
Jazzy and Jeffrey brought hooping into my life. Jazzy brought it back.
Thank you for giving me the courage to approach your friends. You broke down the wall for me and got past the fear. It held me back for so long. Thank you!
2019 is the year I pick up my hoop and push beyond old boundaries. I have a whole community now that I’m not afraid to ask, “How’d you do that?”