When she was a toddler, she
was fearless. She would climb the stairs, jump off the couch, laugh at anyone, tackle
her twin brother, play with worms, splash in puddles with unending exuberance. She
took to skiing without a backward glance as she careened downhill. She pedaled
her tricycle – then a bike – with happy abandon. Then she went to preschool,
and my oldest daughter realized there is a whole, big world out there.
Even in a safe place,
surrounded by a dozen other children her size, she stuck close to her brother
or her teachers. At home she was silly and strong and independent. But at
school, she was reserved and quiet – attentive and engaged, but still shy. As
her brother expanded his social horizons, running further and playing more with
the other children, she still clung to me each morning at drop off.
This year I have watched her,
a kindergartener now, branch out to new friends and new experiences. She has
learned to spell bigger words and read on her own, add numbers and measure
dinosaurs. She maneuvers through other students on the playground at recess. She
took weekend ski lessons all winter, with her brother there by her side, and
played soccer and t-ball. And she started dance lessons.
From Wednesday through
Tuesday, Ella chatted happily about dance class and the moves she was learning
and the other kids there. Each Tuesday afternoon, though, the anxiety returned
as we arrived at the studio. Ella wanted to dance. I wanted to instill the importance
of finishing what you’ve started and the value in overcoming anxiety to get to
the fun of something that is initially scary, but ultimately rewarding.
Ella’s dance teacher, Miss
Kathy, who is ingenious in ways beyond dance instruction, created a Bravery
Chart to help ease the initial angst of class. For completing tasks like
walking into class by herself, sitting with the other dancers during
attendance, and remembering to have fun, she received a sticker each week. Although
still a bit nervous at the start of each lesson, Ella was soon smiling through dance
class with the other children and showing off new moves at home.
We all have our fears to face,
whether we’re 3 years old or many decades beyond – starting a new job or
leaving a comfortable but unfulfilling one, walking through the doors of a new
school, training for a marathon or a 5K, moving away from home, ending a
relationship or diving into a new one, writing a book, meeting new people,
fighting or accepting an illness. Sometimes we have no choice but to confront a
challenge. Sometimes we choose to simply take the easy, comfortable way. Often,
though, if we make the decision to face what makes us fearful or anxious or
just uncomfortable, the rewards are big: personal happiness, professional
satisfaction, new friends.
For my daughter, sticking
with dance class was a challenge. Would she have been OK if we had decided to
wait for another year? Sure. But we both knew she wanted to do it, and I think
we would have regretted that decision, even if it had meant less hectic Tuesday
afternoons.
Last weekend was the recital.
It’s a big deal, with some three dozen groups performing and hundreds of people
from throughout our area turning out to watch two shows. Ella was excited, but
also nervous – not with stage fright, but with her usual separation anxiety.
When I left her backstage before each show, she was clingy and a bit tearful.
But when the curtain came up,
there was her smile and her six-year-old shimmy. Not a hint of the fear or
anxiety she’d exhibited months ago or a few minutes earlier. Just pure, dancing
joy – proof that sometimes doing the thing that is hard is also the most fun.
Original content by Meghan McCarthy McPhaul and
published on her Blog: Writings from a full life.
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