strong enough

Day in and day out, I (try) to inspire kids to do hard things. I teach them to believe in themselves, to chase after big dreams; I help them cultivate resilience. I am a cheerleader, a coach, and a friend. Day in and day out, I wear the shoes of the empowerer, the encourager.

Until a few weeks ago, when I stood in the shoes of the one being empowered to chase after big dreams and do hard things. I had introduced myself to Kimberly before class, explaining that I’d been taking Body Pump for a few years now, but that I was new to the Shades Valley YMCA. As class concluded, I found myself walking towards the parking lot with her, raving about Body Pump and complimenting her for a great class. As I was nearly getting into my car, she asked me if I’d ever thought about going through training and becoming an instructor.

Let’s time travel to Rachel’s brain and review her internalization.

What Rachel said to herself: “Are you kidding? Of course I’ve thought about it. I’ve been taking this class for almost three years; it helped me through and in recovery from my eating disorder, it helped me build strength and, not only that, I love it. It’s completely logical. It’s logical and simultaneously scary as shit. I won’t be strong enough. My body doesn’t fit the group fitness instructor “mold” or “ideal”. I won’t have time because my “real job” has to be my whole life because if it’s not, it makes me an “average” teacher. People won’t take me seriously because my body isn’t perfect enough. No one will come to my class. I cannot take that risk, because I can’t stomach the consequences of failure. I’d rather crawl back into my hermit shell, because even though my hermit shell is dark and cold, it’s comfortable and that’s what I do, comfortable things.

Rachel’s actual words to Kimberly: “I have thought about it, but to be honest, I’m terrified. I’m not sure that I’d be good enough or make it through initial training! I don’t think I am strong enough. But, tell me more. What does the certification process entail?

My verbal response was significantly different than my initial internalization and I have done a lot of work within myself to get to that place. But, why was my response different? What was it that propelled me to not only admit my fear, but to ask for more information, despite the fear?

Brene’s words shook me: “Sometimes when we dare to walk into the arena the greatest critic we face is ourselves.”; “It’s worse to spend your life on the outside looking in, wondering what if, then it is to try and dare greatly and risk failure.”

Joshua 1:9 sobered me: “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go.”

The growth mindset stuff I preach to my kids at school convicted me: dreams don’t work unless you do, mistakes are proof you’re trying, believe that you can and you’re halfway there; if you don’t go after what you want, you may not ever have it...

48 hours later, I was hired at the YMCA, signed up to attend Les Mills Body Pump training in Memphis; I was over-the-moon, giddy and jittery, oscillating between unadulterated joy and deep fear. I began to feel like a total crazy person. Why in the world did I think this was a good idea? I’d just started teaching at a new school, in a new district, in a new grade; more so, I was committed to shed the workaholism that I had acquired in my first two years of teaching. There was something inside of me, this meek, mousy voice, that kept telling me I wasn’t “allowed” to do this. It is the voice that typically wins. It screams rigidity, perfection, shackles, and shame. Throughout these 48 hours, something monumental, something powerful, happened. I decided that stupid voice needed to go for a long ass walk. This is the practice- the practice of dismissing shame and pressing into freedom and abundance. Claim your power and walk. Or rather...frolick and skip and do your happy dance.

While shame enjoyed its stroll, I boldly stepped inside the arena of my own life. I said yes to uncertainty and fear and all of the dramatic hypotheses that will likely prove untrue. Walking into the arena freed me to believe that I am, indeed, equipped to do hard things and I am free to use my gifts for the good of others and I am a pretty darn good teacher. For the first time in a long time, I felt powerful. I felt confident. I allowed good gifts to flow freely into my life. I welcomed this feeling with grace.

In Alice in Wonderland, Alice says to the Mad Hatter, “This is impossible.” The Mad Hatter says, “Only if you believe it is.” I typically wear the shoes of the Mad Hatter, encouraging children to embrace bravery and the words “I can”. I bet you wear these shoes, too. We all, in varying capacities, know what it’s like to give encouragement to those who need it. For some of us, however, we’ve built up subconscious safety nets and identities around always being the empowerer and encourager, forgetting that we need also to receive the very thing we so freely give. Lately, I’m finding myself in desperate need of the words I preach; though my mind is sharp, it is awfully forgetful. Bravery is easy to preach. It is much harder to practice.

I can do hard things. I believe you can too. I can do scary things. I believe you can too. I can do them with joy and confidence and a smidge of fear and trembling. I am free to receive for myself the words that I preach to six-year olds: be confident in who you are, do things that scare you, and pursue what sets your hearts on fire. They can. I can. And so can you. Sometimes, we just need to be reminded of what our hearts were made to know.