Swampwater Debutante

When I posted my Healing in the Hoop video last summer, I honestly thought no one would ever see it beyond the people I physically directed to it.

I’m accustomed to being invisible, see. I don’t mean this to be self deprecating, it’s just how I am. I’m incredibly shy, constantly nervous around people, all but filterless half the time, and, most of all, I am not much of a self promoter.

One reason is my deep seated and paranoiac fear of failure and absolute terror of being humiliated. I’ve never been able to accept either with any sort of good grace, so I try to go out of my way to avoid them. That generally means doing nothing to draw attention to myself.

And two, well…this one’s hard to explain without making my family sound like assholes, and they’re not. I just don’t think they realized how much it meant to me to be fussed over a bit when I’d done something that was big and important to me. They were duly supportive when something grand I’d done went along with what they wanted me to do, but that’s as far as it went.

I actually pleaded for them to send me flowers at school when I made the cheerleading squad. They did it, but I had to ask. That still kind of stings.

Part of it was my mom struggling to be a single mom, going to school, and dealing with her bipolar disorder. And my grandparents were super busy too.

I got out of the habit of making a big deal out of the things that were important to me, and even started downplaying them a bit. Eventually, yes, I convinced myself that nothing I did was a super big deal.

Later, I got better at acknowledging when I did important things, but the ones closest to my affection still get downplayed, because honestly, I’m still terrified of ridicule or dismissal. If it means a lot to me, I protect it and myself with being overly modest. If it’s not that big a deal, I can’t be hurt by it or over it or through it.

Like hoopdance.

I don’t think I’ve said it in exactly this way, but I think hoopdance saved me. I was at what I consider rock bottom when I found it. It is what I love most in this world, it keeps me present and focused and moving.

So it is important to me. It is a huge part of who I am. It is also my biggest vulnerability.

When my video – which I’d made mostly as a sort of art therapy project for myself – went essentially viral in the hooping community, I panicked. Any day now, someone was going to agree with me that I wasn’t, actually, much good at this thing that I loved. Someone was going to wonder who was this poser who thought she had something to say? Who invited me to the party?

Worst of all – I was fat. A big galumphing heifer in a hoop. They don’t make a lot of dance gear in my size. I wobbled all over when I danced. Next to the spectacular goddesses I’d been watching in videos, I felt like I looked ludicrous, bumbling roundly around acting like I knew what I was doing. I was sure I was going to be judged, and that I would come up lacking. How could I not? I was mediocre. Wasn’t I?

But I loved hooping. I was in love with it like I never had been with any person. So I knew whatever happened, I’d never give it up. I just had to ride out the storm, try to weather the criticism I was sure was coming, and eventually I’d be returned to the anonymity that was, I truly felt, the only place I deserved.

None of that ever happened.

I was never criticized. Never judged. I was embraced and loved and supported on all sides. The hooping community accepted me like I belonged with them. The gorgeous hoopgoddesses I adored were gracious and loving and wonderful.

And anonymity? Hell, I have no idea what that is anymore. I had that driven home this weekend. Someone actually called me a hooping celebrity, which shocked me to my core (and I still don’t quite think I’m up to THAT).

In fact, one fabulous woman came up to me at the end of things and firmly instructed me to never, ever think I wasn’t graceful or a good hooper ever again. People were watching me, she chided. She was a teacher and students would watch my video and think, damn, if she’s a bad hooper, then what am I?

Furthermore, I am a role model, she informed me. Not a pioneer but at least a very visible face for curvy hoopers. I need to be confident and know that I’m amazing, she said. I have to be more responsible.

It rocked me.

Now, to be honest, AT THE TIME that the video was made, I had no idea that I was a little advanced. I really didn’t think I was extraordinary. Had no idea that most four month hoopers weren’t doing across the chest rolls – much less had taught themselves to do it. Caroleeena’s excellent tutorial on that exact subject wouldn’t come out until months after I’d made my video.

And I didn’t feel graceful when I made it. I felt schlumpy and jiggly and self conscious.

Now I know better. I know way, way better. It’s still hard for me to SAY so though. I choke on it when I try to admit to myself that I’m a good hooper and dancer.

I am still terrified that if I let on how important it is to me, that someone will use it against me or try to take it away from me. Or willl diminish it and me.

This is amazingly hard to write, to put this out there. To admit to my fright. But there it is. I’m overly modest out of fear and a deep sense of needing to protect myself.

I have to try and let go of that self-consciousness and self-preservation now. To just be Lissa, lyripop hooper and dance lover, someone who used hooping to beat the crap out of the depression that nearly killed her, a curvy girl who hoops like she knows what she’s doing.

I am going to work on being more gracious about being known and appreciated. But oh, please be gentle on me when I flub up at it, I’m new to being awesome and to acknowledging it and having it be acknowledged with no effort on my part.

(this all feels so weird to say. must convince self that it’s not bragging or immodest to at least acknowledge that I might actually be good at something)

And know without question that I love and adore you all. I truly do. I am blessed to be part of this big, gorgeous community, and I will do my very best to be responsible and gracious, and to make you proud to call me one of your own.