If you were to see him now, as an elite in the sport of Trampoline and Tumbling, you may have difficulties believing this story. The passage of time has softened the emotional intensity of these particular memories, minimizing the severity of its original impact – yet looking back, it represented a valuable life lesson. It was toward the end of summer 2016, when my son learned there are great rewards, on the other side of fear.
As Christian sat in my office his silence and far away look, represented a degree of uncharacteristic – that was more than enough to catch my attention. To be clear, I am normally fairly oblivious – but watching him nervously fiddling with his hands, I sensed there was something bothering him. Judging by his appearance, it was apparent that he was going through some serious mental contemplation.
Anyone who knew my son would have agreed – this was not his typical behavior. Although Chris had always been a methodical kid, I have many stories, he wasn’t usually too serious or complicated – I have stories about that also. At the time, Chris was a child who embodied both extreme sensitivity and childlike purity. His infectious laughter was as easily triggered, as it was contagious. He enjoyed slapstick, funny voices, and physical humor – almost too much. In fact, due to the heightened level of amusement, he garnered from simplistic entertainment – the material that would spark his fits of laughter was quite predictable. Ironically, there were many times where giggles would erupt out of environmental silence – apparently prompted by a mentally generated image, that he found hilarious.
The seriousness in his demeanor this late August day was concerning to me – looking up from my laptop I asked him if he wanted to discuss what was bothering him. Following a minute or two of additional contemplation, he broke his silence – confessing to me, with a matter of fact seriousness, that he wanted to quit gymnastics. Despite any mentally conjured predictions of my anticipated response – I wasn’t too surprised. His current struggles were not only apparent in his diminished zest for the sport, but also in his entire demeanor. To be fair, this wasn’t the first time he had chosen to discontinue the sport he had, aside from a year break two years prior, competed in since he was six years old…only this time, I wouldn’t allow it.
Chris was upset that I wouldn’t let him give up.
I started the conversation by telling him that I was more than happy to accept his TNT resignation, but only after he conquered his fear. I was open and honest with him, telling him that there is no escape to be found in simply quitting – that this was a defining moment, and from the other side of it, he would be able to notice the gift in perseverance. He wasn’t buying it, instead opted to tearfully argue with me, expressing his sheer agitation with me for not allowing him to quit – constructing a thorough defense of his position, on the spot, insistent of the injustice of forcing him to continue with a sport that he no longer enjoyed. I did my best to remain calm yet unyielding to his constant, and agonizing pleas. I knew it was difficult for him to be obligated, at the hands of his own mother, to continually endure the source of his most impactful frustration. For the next half an hour he hurled numerous insults at me, all in an effort to sway my decision. Once he realized that I was firm in my decision, he was able to shift his energy fully, away from resistance and toward resolution.
Don’t get me wrong, I have no attachment to my son’s participation in gymnastics – or any other activity, for that matter. Despite my family owning and operating a gymnastics facility, and being one of five coaches in my immediate family, I was not attached to the notion of his gymnastics career – in fact, my neutrality was completely by design. I am an ardent supporter of personal choice, and the individuality of fulfillment – encouraging my children to discover their own unique path toward happiness. Besides, I am fully aware of my potential inclination toward overidentification in this area- particularly the tendency of becoming seamlessly lured into a co-dependent relationship with his gymnastics.
But this time, I got involved…
Occasionally, situations arise that present us with an opportunity to learn a true and invaluable life lesson. The sense that I felt in my heart, was that this particular situation would come to represent a pivotal moment in his life – a literal crossroads, having the potential to shape the outcome of his entire future.
My most pressing concern was that he was wanting to quit a challenge, not the sport itself. For the most part, he loved gymnastics – but he was allowing his fear of a single skill, to overwhelm and control him. And the reason that I can state this assessment with absolute conviction, is through my careful observation of him. I originally had decided to simply keep an eye on him, from afar – to gauge the necessity of my involvement. What I learned was that because he didn’t know when to expect it, Chris would behave normally, until his coach made mention of the skill – at which time, an instant and visible shift took place, an evident change that affected his entire demeanor.
Believe me when I say that the decision-making process, that led toward my eventual interference was not taken lightly – I spent hours recalling the carefully thought out reasoning behind my originally mandated parenting rules. I exhaustively weighed the pros and cons of my self-imposed boundaries against the best interest of my son – the final decision I settled on, wasn’t immediately appreciated.
My kids are familiar with my usual style of parenting – and freedom of choice that is generally afforded to them. Even the previous time he had decided to discontinue his gymnastics training, I was supportive of his choice – he didn’t want to do it anymore, and that was perfectly fine with me. I frequently found myself engaged in conversations, defending his choice to the multitude of people who were unable to fathom his reasons for quitting – almost to the point, of questioning my parenting decision to allow it. For months I received shocked comments resembling “you are going to let Chris quit, but he is so good!”. Yes, he was good, very good – but ultimately it was his decision, and I didn’t feel that it was my right to interfere.
So what changed…
It was evident that Chris wanted to quit, not because he didn’t enjoy it, but because he was struggling with fear. He was growing tired of being pressured to do a skill that terrified him – both his teammates and coaches were all perplexed with his resistance. He was understandably disenchanted with the immediate future he knew was in store for him – a third year stuck at the same level. Due to his refusal to do a double back tuck – he was painfully aware of his inability to progress to the next level. And there was also the agonizing humility – a side effect of his inability to conquer his fear regarding this skill, he was forced to watch other kids, children who had been several levels behind, surpass him.
To be clear, nobody was asking him to perform a skill that he wasn’t capable of doing – he could breeze through all of the progressions, but when it came to actually perform the skill, he was absolutely terrified.
His coaches did what they could to help him through this “mental block”, but what began as compassion eventually transformed to frustration, as he continually refused to attempt the skill – yes, my son is a stubborn one. Coincidentally, we even had an Olympic training coach come for a workshop – yet, he still wouldn’t do it. I remember the coach walking past me during the beginning of the break and stating “Chris is going to do a double today!”, a statement that surprised me into a reply of “okay!”. A moment later when she walked by, I asked my mother, who happens to be another one of his coaches, “is that true?” The facial distortion she inadvertently used, in conjunction with her answer, conveyed a broader range of expression than the single word “no” that marked her response. And she was correct, it wasn’t true.
Apparently, he was under the mistaken assumption that since he mentioned to Chris that they would be doing doubles after their break, and he didn’t stage a formal protest, that he was going to go through with it. This timeline had become a familiar pattern, with every coach who tried to out will him – only after an entire morning of frustration and mental exhaustion, the visiting coach accepted defeat. Typical of his usual routine of avoidance on the trampoline, when it was Chris’s turn, he jumped for several minutes, and balked a few times – with disappointment, our guest coach finally gave up on Chris doing the skill. This wasn’t the first time my son has endured emotionally fueled consequences for his refusal to do this particular skill – as a coach myself, I can completely empathize with the frustration of his coaches.
Chris’s regular coaches had worked with him long enough to understand the futility of any approach involving control – knowing full well that neither threats nor rewards were going to force this particular child into submission. This child was not one to concede, for him, all successful motivation had been intrinsic – stemming, not from any outside source or consequences, but rather from a deeply internal place. This trait, dependant on the individual circumstances, including my personal perspective – typically causes either extreme pride or overwhelming frustration.
In keeping tradition with other hurdles he had surpassed in his gymnastics life, once Chris decided it was something that he was intent on overcoming – it became a non-event, and he quickly figured out the solution on his own. By mentally isolating the aspect of the skill that had made him uncomfortable, he was able to replicate the motion using an alternate skill. Since he attributed his fear with going over his head on the second rotation, he brainstormed a way to mimic that section of the skill and practiced it on his own until he was comfortable doing it. Once that connection was forged in his head, between the skill that he feared and one that he had deemed similar, yet was not hesitant to do – the grip fear had over him, practically disappeared.
In all honesty, I find myself using a similar thought process to work through my own internal battles with fear. However, I was unable to understand the relevance of the particular skill he chose, to forge a connection between the double he feared, and the stand-in skill he used to bridge the gap. But it never needed to make sense to me, it only ever needed to make sense to him – which, apparently, it did.
Despite his preoccupation with the dreaded double back, during that anxiety-filled summer – he rarely mentions it now. Not only is he working far more difficult skills, than the one that kept him paralyzed with fear – at this point, he can easily do ten doubles in a row, without a flinch. But more importantly, he has found a newfound love, excitement, and commitment to his sport – and is rarely, if ever, afraid to try new skills. Through his persistence (albeit forced) and refusal to give up, he was able to push past his mental block to break through the previous glass ceiling of his gymnastics – now, the sky really is the limit.
To this day, I don’t know what he was so afraid of, or what mental images were going through his mind, that caused his paralysis – but whatever it was, it was more powerful than anything else.
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