Archives >

It takes courage to be vulnerable

You Don’t Have to Hide

 

Women are special creations. Many of us are gifted with a strength and resolve most men will never comprehend. We’re caregivers and nurturers. We bind our families together. So many people depend on us every day and we don’t want to disappoint.

We pretend to be super women, holding down jobs, family, household duties, and friends. Of course, we can do it all. Or at least we’ll never let you to see that we can’t. Everyone dips from our well. Rarely, do we take the opportunity to refresh and become whole again. Then, comes those rare occasions where the well runs dry.

Even then, we’re too ashamed to admit we need help. We don’t want to show any signs of weakness. We hide behind our superhero capes and our fake smiles, while inside we’re slowly suffocating. We try to break through the surface, all we need is to catch our breath. Yet, we’re too afraid to ask someone to throw out a lifeline.

It takes courage to be vulnerable. Asking for help can be scary. We’ve been conditioned to think it means we’re less of a woman if we do. If we can’t do it all, then we might be flawed. Truth is no one can do it all. We all need a little help sometimes. Don’t allow fear of failure to prevent you from reaching out when life becomes too much. We’ve all been there, many suffering through our struggles alone.

Know that you have support around you, even if it’s just a person to lend an ear to the situation. Reach out to family, friends, church family, or even the sisterhood in the studio. We’re here to hold each other up and be the strength you need when yours run out. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. There is no shame in being vulnerable.

Feel safe in your circle of studio sisterhood

It takes courage to be vulnerable

How Joining a Pole Studio Changed My Life (and It Can Change Yours, Too)

How Joining a Pole Studio Changed My Life (and It Can Change Yours, Too)
“Just go in.”
As it turns out, the voice inside me that won that day also happened to be the quietest. Under the delicate midday light of late November, I was sitting in my car outside the humble door of Aradia Fitness, nestled in a business park with children’s martial arts studios and music tutoring spaces, debating with myself whether I wanted to go through with an Introduction to Pole Fitness class.
One part of me was quite vocal about how I would certainly be facing skinny college-age women who would probably ridicule my physique, and how I would most likely make a fool of myself. Another part of me dwelled on the thousands of dollars I had already spent on dental implants as a result of a childhood injury of falling flat on my face—what if I fell and hurt or mangled myself again? These loud, obnoxious voices debated back and forth internally until a smaller voice cut through.
“Maybe you’ll have fun. Maybe this is what you need. Just go in.”
So I went in, and I was surrounded by an array of equally terrified-looking women, some of whom were indeed collegiate, but others who appeared to be my age and above. There were all sorts of bodies, some slender, some Rubenesque. We made nervous small talk until we were greeted by the studio owner, Neelam.
Perhaps it was something in the color of her eyes or the sound of her voice, but Neelam radiated amber and honey, as if she were sunlight personified. She told us a brief story about her own dance and fitness journey, and as she stood illuminated by the afternoon glow cutting through the deep red curtains, the whole place felt exotic yet inviting, a little ruby oasis in the middle of suburbia. While even the mere sight of poles felt intimidating at first, Neelam helped us relax. She has this unyielding quality of calming everyone around her, and putting fears to rest. Her hugs are an indescribable medicine. That day, I stumbled my way through a few spin attempts but had fun practicing some body waves and catlike moves on the floor.
In the first month, I didn’t quite feel sexy or empowered. But, I did feel challenged, as though I was a child learning a new language, trying to memorize a few basic words through repetition. More than anything, what brought me back to Aradia after that first class was the sensation in my shoulders the next morning. I was sore in muscles I had never activated before. I had spent my entire life involved in some kind of physical activity—volleyball, golf, basketball, running, various Beachbody home fitness DVD programs—but I had never felt soreness in that particular spot. I was also sobered by how weak I was in other areas, and felt determined to pursue the kind of core strength that pole dancers and aerial gymnasts display. I knew that this kind of movement would be stimulating and different, and it was introduced to me at a time when I needed change.
October 2017 found me in a new job role with a better commute but a distinct lack of social support and diversity. Other than my boss, my office only had one other woman in it. My best friend in the area had just delivered a baby that month, and so my life both inside and outside of work felt deprived of camaraderie and sisterhood. By November, I became desperate for something to keep me motivated, and so a quick Google search of places where I could learn a form of dance that had always intrigued me revealed the Aradia studio in Ashburn, which had numerous glowing reviews.
The second class I signed up for was one called Liquid Motion, because the description emphasized more floorwork. Knowing that I needed to build up my strength and coordination to keep going with actual pole training, I thought Liquid sounded like a nice supplement that would develop some skills without leaving the ground. That was when I met the instructor, Karen, who is the living dichotomy of sensual and maternal. She exudes a hard core rocker chick vibe, always looking like she stepped out of an epic music video. Ultimately, she is a badass who cares for her students deeply; I have seen more than one woman come to class and break down in tears over some personal trauma, and Karen responds with comfort and strength, taking time to guide them away from pain, loss, or anger. Then, when Karen performs, she is alluring and coy, an icon of feminine movement. When you see her dance, you understand the dedication, discipline, and hard work behind the architecture of her muscles. She has an eye for details, and in simple tweaks to the position of your head or leg, changes something from impossible to possible. Liquid Motion clicked with me because it was the class where I first felt like I could say something beautiful with my body, which I previously often regarded with disgust or shame. Even when my simple toe point became a little straighter, I felt proud and eager to train harder.
Then there is Jenna, who combines physics and philosophy in her artistic approach to pole. She emphasizes the concept of opposition, which applies not only to the actual dynamics of spinning, but to creating aesthetically pleasing shapes with one’s body. She demonstrates endless patience with me, and watches my face with concern when I try to do a few spins in front of her. “I don’t think you’re quite feeling the joy of flying yet,” she says to me, and she’s got a point: I have been so focused on trying to execute these movements that I am growing increasingly frustrated by my inability to get things right. Her solution? “I want you to go back to the very basics, and just play with the sensation of swinging around the pole, even if you’re only doing a dip, so that you can really do this with abandon.” Jenna has a knack for finding her students’ strengths and building upon them, and has managed to snap me out of creeping dismay or defeat on several occasions.
There are so many other teachers at Aradia who are just as compassionate and talented, and I can’t wait to work with them all as I (slowly) progress up the skill ladder.
When I look back on the last several months, what I recognize in myself is profound emotional growth in addition to the physical changes. That aspect, to me, is something I have never gained while running on a treadmill in a crowded gym. I have developed, little by little, a stronger sense of self-worth and expressiveness. I feel like smiling much more. I take pictures of myself. I hear songs on the radio while I’m walking the dog and suddenly find myself doing some kind of toe drag or hair flip because I feel inspired. I still worry about things in my life, but now I have a few hours a week where, surrounded by ruby curtains and twinkling lights, I can take a breath. I can feel elevated by my classmates, like Jeanine, a nurturer whose laughter is contagious, and Kay, whose strength and confidence I wish to someday achieve.
A question posed by one of our visiting instructors, Nia, resonates with me still: “who is she?”
I’m still finding out. I’m still creating her.
But for those who are still hesitant about embarking on such a journey, for anyone trying to muster the courage to put on some skimpy shorts and sky-high heels, my advice is this:
Just go in.
By Our Student Liz.
Join a sisterhood unlike other

Be An Aradia Goddess

Be Brave. Brave enough to be Uncomfortable

The TEDWomen lecture by Luvvie Ajayi hit home with some truths about people and women in particular. One of the most difficult things to do is to create uncomfortable situations. You know that queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. Everyone standing around, not willing to make eye contact. No one knows exactly how to respond to the uncomfortable comment without making people even more awkward. So, what do we do now? Nothing, right? Everyone acts as if nothing happened and we go on about our business.

Be Brave enough to be uncomfortable

Be Brave

How many of us are brave enough to create these situations? For example discussing pole dance or sensual movement in a group or for that matter with your friends. Right, not many. Let’s take a look at why we as women don’t want to speak up and speak out. How many times as a child are we told don’t say anything if you don’t have anything nice to say? Or it’s impolite to interrupt others? Women are taught it’s our role to make people feel comfortable and welcomed. We want people to like us. Our whole lives we’re conditioned to not to create unpleasant situations.

Breaking that mold can be difficult, but it’s not impossible. Some people have confidence built in or they’ve been brought up in environments which promote expression. For those of us who don’t, we can start small. Find your voice in something you’re highly passionate about. You can begin in a less intimidating environment such as a blog or vlog, no direct human contact. Sometimes it’s even bigger baby steps like telling our kids, NO! Lol.

At our studio it is our endeavour to provide a safe place to try and begin our journey. Talking in an environment where people are more accepting will ease the pressure of learning to have uncomfortable conversations. Building our confidence to be comfortable in our own skin helps to fortify that little girl inside who’s afraid to speak her mind. Take a deep breath, be brave, and speak your truth.

 

Link to Luvvie Ajayi’s lecture

https://www.ted.com/talks/luvvie_ajayi_get_comfortable_with_being_uncomfortable

 

Next Page »