It was January 14th, 2020 and I was both nervous and excited. Nervous because I wasn’t sure what to expect both from the class and myself and because it was a pole class I was nervous about telling people. Mostly friends or family who’d ask if what’s new. And I was excited because I was trying something new that I had thought about doing for a while. Aerial Dance, let alone pole class was something that I has always thought about doing for funzies because every time you see a pole walking about you just wanna climb or swing on it. For me as a kid I always liked to run around and swing on the stop sign poles for whatever reason. So going to the first class of pole ended up being pretty fun and some hard word. I realized that this was going to give me some confidence in myself one way or another, and I was going to find some type of strength within myself. We were warned about getting bruises and possibly getting dizzy. I did get dizzy from the spinning, but that’s not a new thing for me. When I got or saw, rather, my first bruise from pole class I was at first confused; because I wasn’t sure where the bruise came from, but then I remembered that it was from pole as it couldn’t have been from anything that I had walked into recently. When I realized that, I poked the bruise and laughed to myself and ran to show my husband my bruise in an oddly proud fashion, “Look at my bruise!” I was oddly excited. He just shook his head confused as to my being excited about having a bruise. But it wasn’t from walking into anything, it was from my pole class. And though it slightly pained me, it was something I was slightly happy of because I wasn’t being a “clutz” I was finding my strength in being able to lift myself up, literally, on a pole. For that, I was proud. My first pole class helped me to find or reawake myself somehow. Reminded me to have fun and let go.