First Trapeze Class

I will always remember my first trapeze class. Just before my twelfth birthday, I jumped off of a one-inch board. I was wearing a harness and holding onto a twenty pound steel bar. There was a weightlessness, like gravity was making room for me. I was genuinely flying. That feeling made up for the knots in my stomach as I climbed the rickety construction ladder made of creaks and groans. The price of flight was to face my fears.
School was my first ladder, a precarious inch-by inch process that I somehow stumbled through up to high school, where I assumed I had reached stability: the board. What I didn’t understand was that I needed to provide some balance on my own. I dove into high school, thinking if I took care of one priority, the rest would automatically fall into place. Needless to say, I found that not only was this was not the case, but I needed to adjust what was the first priority in my life. Instead of trying to please others and be perfect, I threw myself into becoming a better person.

I took a year to let all expectations fall away and focused on becoming my best possible self. It was some of the hardest work I’ve ever done. At first, I was so timid and unwilling. I didn’t understand how to appreciate myself. It was wildly outside my comfort zone, bizarre as it sounds, nevertheless I tried anyway. I stumbled a little. I got back up. I summoned the willpower I was using against myself, and transformed it. Slowly but surely, I became more satisfied with myself, finding that the rest of my life became more manageable as a result. I found ways to pace myself while still being challenged. I accepted my limits and pushed myself to continue to learn, which I learned I honestly enjoy. Lessons, some critical, some slight, flooded my senses and I cultivated them. I let myself change, and it that change I found wisdom and maturity. I was more earnest and more authentic than I’d ever