Words by Jean Harlot, pronouns She/her, Photos By Elixir Black
Exploring the notion of repeating levels and embracing your journey
It was the start of another term a few weeks ago and for some of us, myself included, it feels a bit like Groundhog Day. Not because I am once again learning new things over the next 7 weeks, but because I am what I call a ‘repeat attendee’ - I am repeating the same level again and learning the same moves once again. This isn’t a new thing for me. I know that feelings of falling behind or repeating can sometimes feel isolating or like there’s something wrong with you. Your brain goes: “everyone else got it, but why haven’t I yet?”
Let me promise you - there isn’t anything wrong with you!
I wanted to share my own little Lyra journey to hopefully show others they aren’t alone in repeating things.
I signed up to Lyra on a complete whim in late 2019 to hopefully help improve my dismal grip strength after struggling so much with grip in pole. I completed my first Babydoll term in the last term of 2019. Lyra came as quite a shock for me - both physically and mentally. After previously flying through my Burlesque Babydoll classes and graduating to Garnets, I had expected something similar in my head to happen here. But it was obvious early on that this was not the case with Lyra, which is a very different physical journey to burlesque.
That first term was hard, especially with my grip being what it was (or wasn’t) but I really gave it my all. Assessment week rolled around, and my anxiety was sky high. I knew that I couldn’t do all the moves required to move up a level, and that had me feeling like I’d somehow failed, as almost everyone around me moved up. I have anxiety and this made the feelings of being left behind really difficult. I mentally beat myself up about it, feeling like I was potentially wasting my time as I obviously wasn’t good enough to do Lyra. I’m so grateful to have had Wednesday as my instructor in that first term, whose support taught me that everyone’s journey is different. She helped me to not feel so down about things, so I signed up for a second term of Babydoll Lyra.
Each term I saw progression, but it still felt slower than those around me.
Like the little thief it is; comparison would often steal the feelings of pride I felt about my personal victories in those first few terms. I felt like the perpetual tortoise, struggling to keep up with a group of hares as they ran ahead of me. More times than not, I felt like quitting Lyra. I almost let these doubts get the better of me when classes were announced as coming back after lockdowns, but my growing love of being in the hoop prevailed.
After 4 terms of Babydoll Lyra, I graduated to Pearls and it felt like I’d finally made it and things would be a literal ‘up’ from here. Again, I quickly learnt that for me, this next level would be as much of a long-distance journey as my last one. I’m currently on my fourth Pearls term and I now know that’s totally fine. I found this new perspective in the waiting room before classes and in the classes themselves. This was a perspective that Babydoll Lyra never afforded me as everyone in them was new. People who had graduated from the Babydoll classes when I was still in that level have been in some of my Pearls classes. I’ve done Pearls classes with the same people more than once. I’ve seen people split class levels when they graduate and do one lower and one higher levelled class. I’ve seen people I’ve done Pearls with still in Rubies. I’ve seen that that graduating through levels isn’t as fast for everyone or as linear as it may appear from the beginner’s perspective of Babydoll Lyra.
We can’t ignore that we live in a society that has a strong belief that you are failing if you are not achieving perfection on your first attempt. I recall watching a reality show about celebrities going through SAS training last year and even these people, who many would deem as ‘successful’, said that their main motivation for going on the show was to overcome their fear of failing and trying something new.
I know I’ve not done things because I’ve been too scared of looking silly or bad if I do something wrong. Add anxiety to this cocktail and it can be a mental nightmare.
But for some reason, one November I decided Lyra was a good thing to try. And I’ve slipped, fallen, rolled, and spun myself out of the hoop. In front of people. Often while being recorded on my phone which I had set up to see my progress in class. It happens less now but, in the beginning, it happened more than I care to admit. I’ve felt frustrated and embarrassed because I can’t get moves even though those around me can, but I’ve also seen the reverse of this too. Without these falls, I wouldn’t be able to see my achievements in the hoop either; like finally getting my Amazon or being able to now do a hocks hang to sit as if its nothing. We need to remember that everyone started as a beginner at some point - the instructors who teach us, the people we admire in classes above us, even the people in our own level. Everyone has started as a beginner like you have. We all have the potential to make mistakes and to fall. As beginners, we often fall more than others when learning new skills but, what matters most is not just getting back up but supporting those around us who have fallen too.
We all come from different walks of life. We all have different strengths and weaknesses. We all have different fears, anxieties, passions and minds. It’s not fair on me or the other person to compare my progress to theirs.
The only progress that matters to my journey is my own and that has no time limit or deadline. It will continue to ebb and flow like the ocean in highs and lows and that’s honestly what makes this journey so magical. How good does nailing a move feel after we fall? That moment as you do a move in the hoop and realise it was one you once thought was impossible. These highs wouldn’t feel as they do without the corresponding lows. We all have these rises and falls, they’re just unique to us.