Is it holding you together or, has it become a cage?
I posted on Instagram a while back about self-compassion – about how sometimes self-compassion is about watching Sister Act and eating peanut butter on toast (crunchy all the way!) but other times self-compassion looks more like making myself go for a walk or talking myself into doing a training session when I don’t want to.
Self-compassion is something I’ve struggled with for a long time. I worked in the fitness industry for 8 years and there’s an unspoken expectation that you will teach your class even if you are bleeding out of your eyes… so I taught with a broken toe, I taught with a frozen shoulder, I taught with a chest infection, I taught with no voice, I taught with severely sprained ankles. I also taught my class the day after my partner of 6 years and I split up, I taught my class immediately after accidentally dropping my car key down the drain (reception were trying to get hold of the maintenance team as I took the pre-class register), I taught my class after I found out my step-mum had terminal brain cancer, I taught my class after she died. On none of those occasions did I want to teach my class. In fact most times I just wanted to go home and cry.
On some days, making myself teach my class was an act of self-love – I knew that being on the stage with the music up LOUD, getting hot & sweaty and doing something I loved would give me an escape for an hour or so, a little bubble where I was invincible and full of endorphins. I knew that I’d feel better for it afterwards. On other occasions, making myself teach my class was not an act of self-compassion – teaching on broken bones and severely sprained ankles is generally not recommended for a strong recovery.
The question of “Is this self-compassion or is this not self-compassion?” wasn’t so easy for me to answer.
I was (and still am!) incredibly proud of being a group fitness instructor. I worked really hard to get where I was and I worked really hard to stay there. It was a big part of my identity and how I lived my life. In hindsight, I probably made myself teach my class when I was injured because teaching was What I Did and I didn’t know what else to do. With hindsight, I was probably also a bit afraid of being seen as weak and not committed enough. That said, I never felt worse after teaching (apart from with the broken toe and the ankles; When the adrenaline faded away there was the pain.)
Teaching group fitness became part of my scaffolding. It became something that held me up when I was wobbly and, at times, it literally held me together. But… it wasn’t scaffolding that was easy for me to change or adapt when I needed to.
My scaffolding these days looks a lot different – sure the are PLENTY of workouts / training sessions in there (that Triathlon isn’t going to race itself!) but there are also things that are less impactful on my body, things like writing down one thing I’m grateful for and one thing I love about myself each day. Things like watching Sister Act and eating PNB on toast. Things like going for a wonder around the park and marveling at the way the sunrise comes through the trees, reading books for fun and entertainment and not just for learning. Things like, sending funny photos to my friend & her kids and having them send funny ones back to me.
Scaffolding isn’t meant to be permanent, it’s there to support the creation of a new building and when the building is complete the scaffolding comes down. It’s not meant to be permanent.
If the old scaffold is left up outside the new building it becomes a cage.
How does your scaffolding look these days? Is there something in that that’s become a bit too rigid, something that could do with flexing a little or maybe it’s too wobbly and could do with a bit of tightening up?
