This week I was sick, really sick. The type of ill that rendered me completely incapable & my usually loving, attentive husband into a Ken, handsome to look at but largely ineffective. He has rarely known me ill and never seen me take a day off due to illness, if I have been poorly its always been over the holidays so he was caught as was I unawares.
Now admittedly with my current unpredictable thermostat settings he can be forgiven for not realising that I was navigating a high fever, these days his compliment of ‘Hot wife’ covers all bases & I just take it in the generally kind spirit its meant. I will spare you the details of the other symptoms but suffice to say I found myself holding my own hair back,
Now being ill is nothing remarkable, just a sign the immune system is doing its rather magnificent thing but this week I happened to be signed up to a 5 day intensive training programme that I had been working towards for weeks. I had been doing a minimum of two exercises classes daily 6 days a week, multiple physio sessions, taken time off from teaching to attend, paid a large attendance fee & got cover for the dog. I was good to go.
I knew I was suffering nerves about attending, my gut instinct was on alert I didn’t know the teachers personally but knew they came from highly respected trainings, I knew this week was going to be a challenge but I’m always up for that. 10 minutes into the first class I knew I was in trouble, the Pilates teacher suggested that if people were struggling to breathe in the exercise they were executing it correctly.
Now I have so much to say on this it requires an Instagram post that will come this week but in one single moment I knew I was entirely in the wrong place.
I am if nothing else however a masochist & stubborn so I made it through two more full days. These days included endless filming by the events promotors array of photographers, did I mention this was a beginners Intensive & the dynamic Pilates class was taught without mats to people who had in some cases never taken a Pilates class previously, presented with a mic & included possibly the worst elevator fitness music I have ever had to endure & I used to teach in a gym!. This was by far the most painful aspect including the violent vomiting yet to come.
But I digress, 48 hours into the Intensive & I’m resembling something out of Ghostbusters pre exorcism as my insides become my outside. Day 3 is a write off, I write, explain the shape I’m in and say I’ll keep the organisers updated, Day 4 is the same & I realise there is little point in returning Day 5 if I cant give it my all & I admit defeat and therefore my own failure. The silence from the organisers is now only filled with tumbleweed. I’ve paid my money, missed the show and there’s no refunds (I hadn’t asked for one just to be clear) I was exhausted yes but more than that I was deeply disappointed. I had signed up to participate in a deep dive of technique suitable for beginners & instead I spent two days feeling like my only mission was to survive both the classes & the photographers deftly capturing product placement opportunities.
Now I know many of the participants will have gone through this week & been delighted, some will be inspired & elated at their progress, some like me will be disappointed because no teacher including myself can be the teacher for everyone. But I recognised that same unquestioning exaltation present I’ve witnessed before given to Masters, Elders & Guru’s in other disciplines.
As a side note the teachers on the course moved exquisitely, looked gorgeous & smiled endlessly, the epitome of control & politeness at all times and there’s even some promotional footage already on the web of me being corrected where I’m actually smiling, the truth is as I was being corrected I was cursing out loud whilst being berated for using ‘profanities’ in class. I was laughing at the suggestion anyone could stop me swearing. A picture truly is worth a thousand curses.
After some reflection I now see my fever & ‘failure’ as an opportunity to burn out all the times in the past across multiple disciplines I stayed silent as teachers tried to fix me, as they used embarrassment, humiliation & fear as a way to break me better. Anyone who knows me & all those I have the privilege to teach knows I have no issue with my work ethic, that if I show up I bring 100 & way more curiosity than is probably needed & I know just how hard it is to maintain a career in a world where influence & social media dominate mine and many other industries but I for one am grateful not to answer to anyone except occasionally Ken and his algorithm is usually pretty steady . I realised this week that much of the frustration I felt this week was precisely because I love teaching & helping people better understand moving in their own bodies.
I’m just a movement teacher. No one I teach needs moulding, or fixing. My students & clients are not broken & they certainly don’t need to be subjected to elevator music, they need help, guidance, skill, patience & dare i say it consistency along with a desire to feel better living in their bodies.
I’ve never burned with ambition, only lack of hormones these days and it possibly explains why I live in a one bedroom flat with a studio in our living room & a Pilates Cadillac that doubles up as a dress rail on Sundays but I do burn with a passion for teaching, just not from one book written by just one man. I like my options much like my gowns varied & full, what would I do without my Cadillac or Ken…
With love & burning appreciation,
Suzy xxx
www.seraphinapilates.com
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