Into the Unknown

DBG and Trying New Things

I like to think that I am a try anything once kind of person; I'm definitely my parents' child that will give any food a shot where my sisters might chicken out. I've eaten some weird stuff in my time and travels including beef tartar that looked like a hunk of ground beef, goat brain, some creepy crawlies, and other stuff that generally makes me appreciate the classic PB & J a lot more. 

I have a vivid memory of a summer growing up on the bay in Lewes, DE, when we first acquired our boat, and a rocket shaped tube to drag the kids around on behind said boat. My dad was so excited that day; he had a new grown up toy! I am not the biggest fan of being in the ocean, it's so overwhelmingly engulfing. I don't like that I know there is more life than we can even discover in there with me, and they can sense me, but I can't see or sense them. I'm not necessarily afraid of anything, the ocean just makes me feel super vulnerable. Naturally, this means that I had to be the first one to lose grip and go flying off of that little yellow, inflatable rocket into the summer swells. I bobbed up and down alone, imagining the worst beneath me, until my family circled back and my Dad scooped me out of the water crying like a drowning cat, by the scruff of my lifejacket. He was laughing his head off, so I cried harder, because why didn't he care?!?! It's just as funny to me now, and a lot of lessons have since become clearer to me from this memory. 

He wrapped me up in a towel with a grin stretching from red-tipped ear to ear, rubbing my arms to warm me up, and asked why I was crying? It's fun! I thought he was crazy, but I honestly didn't have an answer. Soon my crying turned into laughter to match his; until I was tossed, it was a ton of fun, and was it really that bad to fall off? It was just a brand new experience, and I didn't know what to make of it. In my youthful naivete, my immediate reaction was fear and tears. And then it was joy and laughter. 

I got back on that stupid little rocket very soon after too, thanks to my dad. The second try was the second lesson here. I went in blind, had a new experience, wasn't sure what to make of it until I realized it was okay. But everything was really solidified by going into the second try with the better attitude and perspective. What's the worst that could happen, I fall off? Been there done that. My initial seven-year-old attitude probably would have been, well I did it, the worst happened, yes I was fine, but I'm not really sure I loved it, so it's all good but why do it again? To which he'd respond, why not?  I couldn't really argue with that, it made just as much sense as my why, but it was braver and more exciting. 

A lesson I've learned from this even later in life, just these last few years, is that sometimes tears are just the natural, inexplicable reaction to human experience. I've been lucky to have some really beautiful experiences; I've been to places I'd never be able to dream up, tried new things, met new people, learned new languages, missed and reunited with loved ones, watched my best friend become an aunt, added another pup to the family, climbed mountains, swam in icy oceans, spent a ton of time alone, and dammit sometimes it just brings a tear to your eye! Life really is beautiful, experiencing it is powerful, and crying is catharsis.

That 10 minute ordeal is just one example of the lifetime of lessons my father has instilled in us; funny how the ones that really stick often aren't the ones they explicitly meant to teach us. But where there is always a struggle between forces, and my parents were just two forces in my life. At school and in sports and other activities, it is even scarier to try something new, because you don't have Mommy and Daddy there to pluck you out of the water and tell you you're fine. Especially not as life goes on, you move away, people talk less, and eventually time runs out. There are, however, others there, and we perceive them as judging us because we don't know them or trust them. Sometimes they are, most times they're not. I personally think most people are good people or want to be. Over time, you have to be the one to swim to shore if you get stuck out in the water alone, and you have to turn your own tears to laughter.

I'm in my last undergraduate semester at USC, and I'd never climbed the infamous wall at Strom Thurmond FWC. I walk by it all the time and even chat with the kids working the wall, because they are all in the Mountaineering and White Water club I've been involved with throughout college. These are my friends, and still something was holding me back from it! The wall spans the three floors of the gym, so anyone climbing it is on full display to pretty much everyone there, maybe that was it, or maybe I was afraid to get up there and have to bail out, failing. I don't necessarily like heights, I get dizzy that high up, but rationally I'm not afraid and I trust the gear. I really didn't know why I hadn't done it, why I didn't really want to do it though I wanted to have done it, if that makes sense. So I just did it. 

It definitely wasn't easy, by the end of it I was just begging my forearm muscles to work for me when I grabbed the next handhold because I honestly didn't know if they would or if they'd fail me. I was incredibly humbled by the fact that I had completed one of the easiest routes, but it was a high to get up there. 

Behind the wall on the bottom floor, there are squash courts and studios, where on Monday and Wednesday nights I see guys rolling around on mats putting each other into various chokeholds. So naturally in my elated state, I walked in while three of them were setting up and asked if they offer open gyms or classes, to which they responded that I could just join the club, the jiu jitsu and judo club. That put me on the spot, but I was interested, got the info, and said I might come next week. 

I knocked out my lift and hit the sauna while they were warming up, and by the time I was done with everything I needed to do, they had an hour left. I had a choice, leave, go home, maybe show up next week, or pop into the now full class and just go for it. This is the exact kind of crossroads my dad prepared me for in life. The easy, safe, boring choice, or the scary, uncomfortable, higher payoff potential choice. He definitely would not agree with that, because I have a tendency of taking that principle farther from safety than my parents would like, but I also owe them for plenty of lessons in discipline, restraint, and self control that have ensured my survival thus far. 

I walked in, and the three seemed surprised that I came back. I loved that; I don't like when people's assumptions of me are correct. I want to be unassumable. I sat off to the side watching two guys drill and spar, listening to them constructively working with each other to improve. It was an environment of learning and practicing, no room to be afraid of judgement. That being said, I did not get on the mat the first night, solely because I had come from an IM Basketball game, climbed the wall in communal climbing shoes, lifted, sweated in the sauna for 15 minutes, and I wouldn't unleash the aftermath on my worst enemy. My shoes stayed on. I chatted with the only other girl there and a handful of others afterwards, and everyone was just so nice and normal. Genuinely nothing to be afraid of. I'm still terrified for next Wednesday, but I also know rationally there's no reason to be. 

I have a feeling I am going to be getting beat up pretty badly for the next few weeks until I get the hang of it, but that's the essence of Discomfort Breeds Growth. Quite literally I'll need to learn and improve to survive. I can't wait to add this skill to my tool belt. 

Life really is like getting tossed of a tube into the ocean, you can be scared and cry, or joyous and laugh. Or even better still, you can be terrified and in awe and crying and laughing all at once, but with the knowledge that it's okay. When was the last time you tried something new? Let me know below. Until next time, find your factor. 

JJ