Now five months into pole dancing, I regularly find myself staring back at my coach or instructor like a deer in headlights as they demonstrate the next trick, spin, or climb... "I'm gonna kill myself trying that"... But somehow, within the black-n-white-striped and purple walls of Dollhouse Studio, I find myself trying it before that thought takes purchase in my mind, crippling me from a new breakthrough before I even make an attempt.
And somewhere in that fear and disbelief, I continue to find a new strength and courage within myself I didn't know existed. Or maybe just forgot was there.
I look back at my first three months - I was terrified to climb more than 7ft up the 15 ft+ poles in the studio. It wasn't until my last week of Competition Bootcamp, end of January 2015, that I finally made it. I didn't look down, I just gritted my teeth and dug deep into some fierce layer of determination, finding myself touching the beams at the top and gliding down with a cheshire smile stretched across my face. Now I have to force myself from a full ascent to train for our 12 ft competition poles!
Now, as the tricks become more advanced, I'm forced to learn to ignore the fear, listen to Jamie or Chloe's voice, and TRUST that following their instructions will guide me safely into the move. I almost laugh at myself as I'm contorted or dangling precariously, while some expletive escapes my lips in shock. "Holy $&%#"... or I return to earth needing immediate high fives and hugs to celebrate a moment's victory. Turns out I don't have much of a poker face either... even as I complete the move, shock is pretty evident.
And the crazy thing about pole, is that it leaves it's imprint all over your body. Long, lean legs. Stronger arms and back muscles. Sure, there's bruises all over my shins from trying to climb on my weak side or on my biceps from some crazy pit-hold .. raw skin on the top of my feet from practicing my Remi Sit.. bruises on my side from a Gemini or leg switches...
But most evident is the confidence I see as I walk straighter and taller. My eye contact with others, even when dancing in my sports bra and shorts with strangers. My husband constantly catching me on my tip toes - at the grocery store, doing the dishes, walking the dog. And my movements as I dance getting larger, longer, and more expressive... dancing as if no one was watching.
On top of all the fear of learning something new or attempting something terrifying has been learning to overcome the fear of talking about it. So much negative stigma surrounds the words "pole" and "dance" when combined, that I quickly find myself shy to share my love for such a sport. Afraid of what people will think or say. But with every new trick I learn or personal struggle I overcome, I become more determined to share this passion with everyone. I doubt my Dad yet truly understands, and my male coworkers are still in the dark, but nothing happens overnight. (Heck, my Superman hasn't even really happened over 5 months!)
Until the world understands this sport and art form, I'll simply take pleasure into sharing with one person at a time and encouraging others to find their passions, no matter what they look like.
Facing my fears and finding new strengths,