The Story of My Life (in 3,500 Words or Less) is a series inspired by Nora Ephron's I Feel Bad About My Neck: And Other Thoughts on Being a Woman, a relatable and honest memoir.
I go to a Pilates class where I have no idea what I'm doing. The teacher tells me to pull my rib cage together and wrap my organs toward my spine. This means approximately nothing to me. I "readjust" my body and I'm fairly certain nothing changes. As I'm bridged into a position that has my knees bent and pelvis pointed skyward, she tells us to let our kidneys be heavy. This also means approximately nothing to me, but I try it anyway. Instead my butt hangs lower toward the ground, which makes my "form" (if you can call it that) look even more uncoordinated. She doesn't bother to reposition me. We both pretend that what I'm doing looks "right."
As a Professionally Uncoordinated Person, it's par for the course to make a fool of myself during a Pilates class in a room full of strangers. Part of a group workout class means setting aside my pride for an hour and reminding myself that walking in the door and participating is what's important. Sometimes I look around the room to see what other people are doing. Truthfully, most of us have the same look on our faces like how much longer do I have to hold this pose and is this how you wrap your organs toward your spine and if I get up and walk out the door right now, what are the chances someone will notice me.
I walked home from class this morning and wondered when I'd be the person in the room who doesn't require constant repositioning. And maybe that day will never come. It takes a certain amount of bravery to continue coming back to something that doesn't feel easy. And that's okay. It's in those spaces where we allow ourselves to be vulnerable and guided by others that we also experience the most opportunity for growth, even when that growth feels very small and undetectable. Hang in there, you're doing great.