The same thing happened day after day. Or should I say didn’t happen day after day? Every waking hour, I dreaded going to gymnastics and stepping up onto the four inch wide, leather surface hanging four feet above the ground and considering everything that could go unplanned. Instead of focusing on how to spell the word ‘continent’ at school or trying to solve my algebra work, I spent my time more on how I could avoid having to go up on beam and do the petrifying skill or how bad things could become if I continued to not do it; thinking that only made matters worse.

Everyday the time would come where I would walk into the chalk clouded gym and immediately see my worst enemy; the beam. I was forced to stand on the rough leather and tell myself that I could flip my body half way around backwards and manage to land my hands in the center of the beam, telling myself I could do it, that’s when I couldn’t. I would stand there with my hands above my head, preparing to go for the skill, and then frustratedly step off the beam in shame at not doing the skill that had once seemed so simple.

Gymnastics was the only thing that kept me up those nights. I would lay in bed visualizing  myself doing the skill over and over until I thought my mind would explode if I visualized myself doing doing it one more time. I didn’t think it was possible for a ten year old to be as stressed about something as I was. Somedays I would end the practice in tears, trying to wipe them away until they were unnoticable before entering the car for the long car ride home not wanting my parents to know their child had been crying over one skill in the midst of the many.
The struggle I was encountering was very concerning to me because gymnastics is the one thing I have loved to do since I had first stepped foot into the “inside jungle gym” at just three years old. Not being able to do this one skill was bringing me down each and every day.

I didn’t tell my parents about my growing doubt in continuing my gymnastics career as I had convinced myself everyday that I could overcome this fear and continue to make my way through the levels as I had done numerous times before. But this time was different. As days became weeks and weeks became months, and I still wasn’t doing the skill, I was becoming less confident in myself and losing hope that I would ever overcome this fear.
Competition season was crawling its way closer with every practice. I still wasn’t doing what I needed to and knew I had to figure something out before I was sucked into a bedazzled leotard and put on the beam in front of the four people who have the power to either put the biggest, proudest smile on your face or tears of sadness in your eyes; the judges.

I made my move. I was laying on the couch, face down, embarrassed about the words that were about to come out of my mouth. “I want to quit gymnastics” I whispered as loud as I dare into the couch. “What was that honey?” My mom said from the kitchen. I flipped over so my face was now blankly staring at the ceiling above. “Mom. I want to quit gymnastics.” I repeated again but louder this time a little louder. The statement hung in the air a while before she spoke. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” I was positive that’s what I wanted. We started to make a list of some other sports I could get interested in but after quite some time of thought, our list was still blank. None of the sports we listed seemed like something I would be interested in and that’s when I realized, gymnastics was the only thing I ever wanted to do. Quite frankly, it was the only thing I was really good at.

The next week at gymnastics, I knew in advance that I needed to change my mindset on what I was doing. I talked to my coaches about what I was struggling with and we set up a plan that I was going to stick with to help me overcome my fear. I set a date for every step I would take. I knew by a certain date, I was to have my skill on a lower beam without any mats. It worked. Soon enough I was consistently doing it on a high beam without any trouble.

Every time I have trouble with a skill that makes me want to give up, I think back to the trauma I had and know I can get over whatever I’m going through. Back handsprings are what almost destroyed me, but they are also what saved me.