My body, the enemy

I generally hate making ranting blog entries, but I feel like I should make an exception to this one:

I hate it when limitations are placed on what I can and can't do in life. Sounds like a general statement? Yeah - it kind of is. But I absolutely hate it when someone / something tells me that I am not allowed to do some activity when I really really really want to.

So last night I went to a dance studio with Johnnie, Lyra and her friend Pavel for $10 salsa lessons. As always, I was a little nervous, but I had lots of fun going to the Mariott Hotel across the street from Johnnie to dance at their little Salsa night shin-dig so I figured "sure, why not?". Besides, I know it means a lot to Johnnie that I at least try to dance and learn a little about this passion in her life.

Once at the dance studio, (which had a strong resemblance to a dojo - I had to fight the urge not to bow at everything insight...), we had the Gumby like dance instructor on speed. Although it was supposed to be a beginner lesson, I felt as though he went through even the "warm up" steps at Warp 10 and moved his body in ways the human body should flick, wave, or step unless he you're the Man of Plastic. Don't get me wrong - I was quite impressed... but the entire time the warm ups were going on, my eye brows furrowed more and more as I struggled to stay concentrated on what he was trying to teach. He may move at Warp 10, but my brain doesn't follow things at Warp 10...

Next, we broke up into partner dancing to start the "real lesson". "Christ", I thought. "If I struggled that much on the warm ups, the real lesson is going to make my head spin - literally and figuratively". We partnered up and he (once again) quickly moved from one set of steps to another, building on each lesson to make a complicated (to me) series of steps that became a dance routine.

Don't get me wrong here - the entire time I was feeling frustrated, confused and terrified that I was doing something wrong. But I love it. I love being in positions where I feel that way. It's like bouldering in a way - there's a challenge there that you pick up and you know you can do it. You realize that the fear is irrational and you persevere to get past it. You understand that the frustration and confusion will pass if you work at it. I knew that if I just kept trying and hammered away at the steps, I'd eventually get it. Of course... "eventually" is a relative term....

At some point during the steps as I was reflecting on this, it happened. Yes, "it". The same "it" that plagues me when I lift boxes at awkward angles. The very same one I felt when leading the Orphan at Jtree and had to back off. That old familiar sting, where it feels like a needle pokes a hole in my shoulder (thank you Nine Inch Nails for those words... :) ). Yes my friends, I injured my shoulder *again* while dancing. In hindsight, I should have stopped sooner since my body position and tension was EXACTLY the same position while arm barring in a wide offwidth crack - much like The Orphan. But I persisted - I didn't want to stop. I was being proud, stupid and stubborn and wanted to pretend that it was my imagination while I was on this high of "I'm doing something for my personal growth!". And now I sit here on this couch, nursing a sore shoulder.

It's incredibly frustrating (in a bad way I feel) to be denied the things that make you feel happy. Even more so when it's your own body rebelling against you. Your body should be, if nothing else, that one singular ally in the world - the object that is in perfect alignment with your desires, your will, etc etc. Unfortunately, not in my case it seems. I have to wage a carefully planned series of moves to navigate the motions of the world so I'm not shut down entirely by my own injuries. I feel like I have to spend a small portion of my mind always self-analyzing for any hint of injury and then learn to deny myself what I want so that I can still do things in the long run that I enjoy.

*sigh*

I hate being injured... :(

And incidentally, I hate it when people give me these looks as if they think I'm making excuses to stop doing something like dancing. I fart in their general direction