Fighting, Friendship and Faith <3

So…last week was an intensive, physical training in stage combat. Ouch. Anyone who has had the misfortune to witness my finger-swearing (I look like Dory and ET’s love child) will understand I am awful in confrontation. I am blessed with the body of a long but bendy banana-skin so looking threatening unfortunately isn’t really my forte. I instantly found the intricate but firm and stubborn movements of stage combat, from unarmed punches and kicks to duelling with rapiers and daggers a huge challenge. The course seemed almost mathematical to me in its dissection, the choreography was so tight and everyone else seemed to pick it up like Harry Potter when he talks to the snakes. Honestly: it was like gibberish to me, it might as well have been Parseltongue.

I am also hyper-mobile which means my body sort of falls into positions, you could bend me over with a feather basically. But if I want to be a bond villain, I need to get menacing and scientific about my movements, so I had to pull my bendy-shit together.

As much as I tried to extend my arms straight,or keep low to the ground my body (in a week) was just not able to excel at anything other than being strangled- what that says about me I have no idea. By the end of the week I was covered in bruises and looked like a mince pie. I kept asking the instructors for help and I could tell they thought I was some silly wafer-girl who couldn’t get her head around SIMPLE instructions. But the thing is, some people can’t get their heads around numbers and I’m one of them. I find them incredibly hard to visualise, and they don’t mean anything to me so why would I remember them? It was a little triggering to feel like the dumb girl in Maths again who just wanted to go to English class where she was understood. Luckily, I had my duelling partner, Fanny.

A woeful attempt at looking scary during the Haka.

We were told we needed to pair up for the exam on Saturday. TRIGGGERED. Alarm bell central. Instantly I was nine years old standing in the field in my P.E.-shorts and velco-pumps, waiting to be picked last, hoping and praying maybe someone would take pity on me. I noticed people didn’t want to pick up my eye contact as much as usual. I watched how all the talented duellers managed to find each other and I was asking people to be my partner as if I was a teenager asking out my first crush. Rejections sweet sting. But as one door closes, a better and more excellent designed door will swing open. My beautiful door was being partnered with Fanny.

Fanny and I both are lovers not fighters, and we both have our moments when we can’t seem to silence our self-doubt parrots but most importantly, Fanny and I were on the same page. There were times over the course of the week that we both relied on each other, and we probably both felt at times we were letting down the other (much to our dismissal) but what was so amazing is we genuinely never lost respect for each other and we fiercely believed in our ability to smash this obstacle. In a course that was meant to teach us how to fight, I really learnt the value of the love and patience we gave to one another and a mutual respect that inspired me to not give up on us as a pair. I decided that there is more than one way to fail at something, and the only way I truly could have failed was if I didn’t try my best to be a friend to Fanny.

We warrior-ed our way into that exam room like Anne-Freida and Agnetha from ABBA about to belt out Waterloo at the 1973 Eurovision song contest- and we literally kicked ass.

The results came in and Fanny got a merit (which is fantastic) and I got BY FAR the lowest score in the class. However, later on as I nursed four Proseccos’ in Spoons I was on top of the world, I couldn’t stop smiling. I wondered why I wasn’t more disappointed in myself- why wasn’t I beating myself up for being bad at beating other people up?

The fact is I was prouder of myself when I got 52% than anyone, and what’s even nicer is I am genuinely just as, if not more proud of my partner, Fanny for achieving so much. So next time you have to do something challenging and someone is laughing at you, or thinking you can’t do it- just call on yourself and trust that you are smart and you are just as worthy and capable, but we all move on different waves: different strokes for different folks. Believe in the brilliance of you.

This month, I’ve really been focusing on myself and admitting to myself that I have strengths. For a lifetime it feels like I’ve mainly focused on my weaknesses, but I didn’t seem to have enough time to look in the mirror and LIKE what I see, where is the balance? Where is the truth in only seeing negative things about yourself?

To me, the fact I found being aggressive and angry for 8 hours a day utterly exhausting is because of my strength: I am a loving and kind person who avoids confrontation. To me, to love is my superpower and it might not be good at fencing or stabbing Fanny’s right shoulder in a swift slice like Mary Berry to a Vicky Sponge- but I just want to hug and in a world where hate is the headline, I feel proud to be one of the loving ones (that doesn’t excuse the fact my limbs are jelly but hey-ho I’m looking on the bright side, everyone loves some jelly).

Happy new year x