Growing up as an introvert with anxious tendencies, I was always a calculated person. Every interaction carried with a mental checklist: What should I say? Did I say too much? Did I not say enough?
By the time I reached high school, those constant self-edits had spiraled into social anxiety. I couldn’t look people in the eyes without second-guessing myself, and conversations felt like walking a tightrope. One misstep, and I’d tumble into overthinking. In college, I slowly learned how to navigate social situations with more ease, building tools to manage conversations and gatherings. But crowds? They remained my limit. I could manage them when I had to, but always with an internal timer ticking until I needed to retreat and recharge.
Then I found Aerial Dance.
From the very first class, something shifted. Suspended in the air, learning to trust the apparatus, my body, and my breath, I felt a contentment I hadn’t known before. Moving in the air demanded presence, leaving no room for spirals of overthinking. For the first time, I wasn’t analyzing myself. I was simply being. The studio became a place where I could exist without pressure. Quiet when I wanted, expressive when I was ready. No forced small talk, no need to perform socially. Just strength, movement, and breath.
More than the physical challenge, Aerial Dance gave me something I didn’t expect: a community. I found myself surrounded by strong, inspiring women who celebrated one another without judgment or competition. Whether I was smiling mid-spin, hanging upside down, or sitting quietly on the sidelines soaking in the energy, I was welcomed exactly as I was. In this space, I felt my confidence grow, not from words but from presence, trust, and shared strength.
Quality time has always been one of my top love languages, and it’s sacred to me. To find a space where I can share that without explanation or performance, where my quiet presence is seen and valued, feels nothing short of miraculous.
How lucky am I to exist here, in this community, in this movement, in this body I am finally learning to call home. Suspended in strength, surrounded by women who lift each other up in more ways than one.
