Day One of Twenty Eight

I went to my first private class with Ellen with butterflies in my stomach. I felt sick just imagining what lay ahead. I know she wants for me only all that I want and dream of for myself. Why am I so afraid? And what on earth am I so afraid of...?

It was hard. It was so, so hard. The hardest part was that horrible, creeping feeling that I was failing... failing Ellen, failing myself... just failing. Why aren't I stronger? I wanted to be better... more... stronger... tougher than I was. Why can't I just will my brain to turn off the signals that say it hurts?

She makes me watch myself in the mirror. That makes me sick. I know it shouldn't, but it does. I know I shouldn't admit that, but I am. I wish I felt inspired by the sweating, straining, heavy-breathing girl in the mirror, but I'm not. I'm tired of her. And she's tired of her, too.

After it was over, we sat in front of each other. "Choose your choice, Zephyr. You don't have to be here. Know what you want and focus on that, stay with it." Then I started to cry. "I don't care if you cry, Zephyr. That's ok. Just don't ever give up. I want to see your heart. You can change the world. I want you to have the stamina and endurance to be able to do that. You know, Zephyr, you come to spin with such joy. But I see trapped sadness in you. I want you to work through that." Ugh. How is it possible that she can see that? I'm so proficient at covering... concealing... how could someone ever know that about me without me letting them in? And I let so few into that place...

She told me it would be hard. She said I would go through things... it was going to be emotional. She wasn't wrong.

So, I'm still breathing. And I'm still standing and walking (though barely... seriously I can barely walk without my legs buckling underneath me). And I'm going to be ok. This will all be ok. And I'll show up for next week's private class with my heart in my hands ready to give up, give in and give over to it all over again.