“no it’s supposed to hurt
that’s how you know it meant something” – Peter and the Starcatcher
While graduation is still a month and a half away, a huge part of my life at college just ended.
it all started when I was a lil’ 17 year old. And by lil’ I mean I am still the exact same size 4 years later.
I was obsessed with trapeze after a week of flying at Club Med. Like a drug addict, I needed my fix, and was super excited to try out Trapeze School New York. The thought of flying in American, let alone my home state of NEW YORK was thrilling. Flying trapeze was this unique thing I did on vacation, it went hand in hand with tanning on a turquoise beach and eating my body weight in white chocolate bread. Getting to fly where I lived? Woah.
While I didn’t catch my trick that day, I found love in TSNY, the indoor rig in New York City, my soon to be home for college.
I didn’t fly again for a year.
It was finals week of freshman year at NYU, the culmination of a stressful year at theater school that was far from what I dreamed majoring in drama would be.
There is something incredible about the smell of chalk mixed with BO, the adrenaline rush from jumping off a platform 25 feet above ground, the feeling of being free for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Once again I was addicted to that sensation that flying trapeze brings.
I signed up for a 10 week intensive of flying trapeze classes during Fall of my sophomore year.
who knew that during those 10 weeks I would meet one of my closets friends in that trapeze class, a person who I have connected with more than almost anyone I have met at NYU.
who knew that during those 10 weeks my life would fall apart and I would be left trying to survive and thrive despite trauma.
who knew that I would start looking forward to those Thursday nights more and more each week, as my life spiraled more and more out of control and as I fell more and more in love with Trapeze and the safety of being at the indoor rig.
when I was there no one could make me rehearse for a scene. when I was there I couldn’t do homework. when I was there I couldn’t wallow in my loneliness. when I was there I didn’t have to talk about theater.
It was my safe place, the place I could run away to when I needed to get away from it all.
I began to take more and more classes at the indoor rig, becoming stronger physically, stronger in the air, and learning how to push through everything that was happening outside of the tent.
No matter what was happening in my life though, on thursday night I knew it would all be okay. I would get to fly.
As time progressed and I took more classes, I began to meet more fliers. People from all different walks of life who all came together because they loved trapeze– the sensation of fear mixed with excitement. The feeling that nothing is impossible. These people became my friends, despite the age differences, despite the different jobs, careers and interests, in the tent it didn’t matter
the thursday group began to form, we started all signing up for the same class, we started making theme weeks, we started baking good food and making playlists. The community was formed of people who loved trapeze
on thursday everything would stop. we would wear ridiculous outfits, and work on becoming better fliers, achieving more than we thought we could.
for two and a half years I had a permanent Thursday conflict. It is ingrained in my brain that on Thursdays I trapeze, but tonight was the last one, because the indoor rig is closing, and the schedule is changing, and my life is shifting as I move into the post college world.
It was nice to have something constant, something consistent, in my very chaotic college life. This place felt like group therapy– I would go when I was anxious or on the verge of a meltdown, and jumping off the board always made me feel better without fail. When I’m in the air I cannot think about anything else accept my trick.
It is amazing how much flying has impacted my life, beyond the beautiful back muscles. I was joking with my teacher tonight about how he met me when I was a wee 19 year old, but then took the joke back because I am still the same height and weight as September of 2009.
But I know I am different. I have calmed down, a lot. I feel less awkward. I feel more confident. And I feel stronger, physically and emotionally. The girl who started taking classes weekly at age 19 feels like a far cry from the girl who left the tent for the last time tonight, 21, and on the verge of graduating.
It is hard to sum up what this place means to me, it may just be a big tent on a street that used to be super sketchy in manhattan, but this tent has been the home of so many memories to me.
I will never forget the thursdays, the costumes, the bloody palms, the calluses, the amazingly successful days, the days I couldn’t get anything right, the inspiring teachers, and the amazing friends.
I feel so lucky that I had a place where I could run away and join the circus while still being at college.
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