Getting through my trapeze class was incredibly difficult last week. The problems started when I attempted to get up on one of the taller bars, probably about ten feet in the air. There were three mats stacked underneath it and I skeptically climbed up, unsure that I would be able to reach but figuring I might as well give it a try. With a bit of shake in my knees, I jumped up and attempted to grasp the bar.
The bar slipped from my fingertips and gravity pulled me back to the ground. Since I was expecting to get up on the bar, my feet weren’t ready to catch me, and I landed at an odd angle on my toe. It really hurt, but I could still walk and it wasn’t swelling up or anything, so I attempted to shake it off.
I knew from doing gymnastics that the best thing to do when you fall off the bar is to immediately get back on. So I went over to the bar I could reach and, even though my hands were shaking, I jumped up and did the trick we were learning. It was pretty messy and I felt like a floppy fish up there, but I got through it.
My hands still shook and my toe still hurt, but I had to continue the class. My nerves eventually began to calm down and I was beginning to regain my confidence when I went up for a trick and split open my hand.
A part of me wanted to quit, feeling completely justified in quitting, but I just couldn’t. I told my inner crybaby to suck it and finished out the class. I worried throughout that I was going to fall, that my shaking hands would fail me, but I also knew that if I sat down, my anxiety would only continue to build and I might never get back up on the trapeze.
I’m sure a life lesson can be found in all this, like getting back up on the trapeze is a metaphor for the struggles we face or something like that, but all I know is that my hand and toe hurt and that the trapeze will not kick my ass.