I hate the gym.
Listening to the constant clanging of weights, dealing with the ‘New Year, New Me!’ crowd in January, feeling self-concious with every move I make, pretending like I know what I’m doing when I approach a machine when really I have no fucking idea…
Yeah, fuck all of that.
In 2019, I resolved to keep fit in another way – I signed up to Circus classes.
Yeah, yaknow. Circus. The silks, the ropes, the trapeze…
The website insisted that I’d be able to do it as it was created for beginners. Spoiler alert: the website lied. I turned up the first week full of hope and the famous last words of “How hard could it be!?”
Very hard, apparently.
Shakira might have boasted at one point that her hips never lied but my hips are compulsive bullshitters. You see, they look young and strong being attached to legs that have seen many a half marathon but, in reality, they’re about as flexible as an iron rod. There are 65 year olds who can touch their toes whilst this 28 year old struggles to bend over without cracking her joints.
Turn out your hips are fucking crucial when it comes to the trapeze and, after the first week of trying, I realised my hips were not ready to be inducted into the Pretzel Hall of Fame.
By the second week I’d lost all hope. But I didn’t give up like an adult, owning up to my shortcomings and requesting that I leave the course for another time. No, no. I decided to sneak out of the back door half way through a lesson.
I gave up. And I hate giving up more than I hate the gym.
And I cried. I legit fucking cried walking back to my car because my confidence had been well and truly knocked. Nay, pummeled. All of a sudden I felt like a teenager again…which is to say I felt like utter shit.
I realised it had been a good few years since I felt like that. So vulnerable, so unsure of myself and my abilities. And in an emotionally masochistic way…it felt good.
(I know. One minute I’m cry walking back to my car and the next moment I’m enjoying feeling like shit. But let me explain…)
I realised in that moment that confidence knocks are evidence that we’ve pushed ourselves out of our comfort zone and we’ve been humbled. Congratulations, honey, you’re shit at something!
You see, confidence knocks feel like shit but they are crucial to our personal growth. It shows you tried for something. It highlights your vulnerabilities and weaknesses that need a little extra TLC. It shows that you’re out of your comfort zone and brave enough to try something new and that’s very good, my friend. Confidence knocks are the roadmaps to becoming better at something, of protecting ourselves, of more self-love, more patience, and show where we need to strengthen our weakest spots.
But, no. I didn’t go back to circus because my hips need serious prayer. And yoga. Lots of fucking yoga. Truth is, I’ve been meaning to go back to yoga for about 6 months and this confidence knock was the boost I needed in the right direction to sort myself out. And, trust me, I will not be running out of Yoga class any time soon. Here’s to more confidence knocks in 2019 and may the confidence knocks lead us to new strengths.