The year didn’t start off like a competition year. Anti-Blackness and unregulated emotions from ownership drove a mass exodus from my former studio in November 2024. Two months post-bilateral salpingectomy I started trying out other studios. Rusty, recovering, and without a home base? Not ideal conditions for competition preparation. Either delusional or determined, I added the PSO Triangle 2025 registration deadline to my calendar. I wanted to try again.
Oh, the grand plans and hope/belief in myself at the beginning. I wanted to be purposeful and intentional with my competition piece. Hoped for a performance that meant something. I told sahn I was competing to her song “better with you” at the Apollo Stages in February. Can’t back out when you’ve told the artist to their face. I viewed this as a promise, a driver for my discipline.
I love the vulnerability and honesty of “better with you”. Maybe a touch of anger, pain, despair. A strong bassline with delicacy in the accompanying elements. It sounds like how I want to move, strength mixed with beauty and grace. I couldn’t achieve that alone, enter my coach, Rhea. She’s skilled, accomplished, and very funny. A veteran in the Championship category, she helped put meat on the bones of my skeletal idea.
I love working with Rhea and will keep her as a coach so long as she’ll have me. Progressing a forearm stand to a handstand to avoid repetitive movement in a later section. Guiding me through cleaning up the aerial shoulder mount and an apprentice transition. Gentle reminders from Rhea to open my eyes, point my extremities, and make eye contact. All important when it comes to judging. We shared our similar emotional patterns and quirks. It’s nice to find other people who need an occasional yelp to get energy moving.
I tried to balance practice with traveling. Open gyms at Spin City Dance and then on the road at Tease Dance and Fitness in Illinois, a private session at Axis Aerial Arts in Texas. I returned from Bahamas Carnival and Rhea set up a dress rehearsal for us the week before competition. I’m grateful, I was able to get jitters out and perform my routine despite my delightfully inebriated travels.
I felt relatively calm about competition, a new occurrence. The day of schedule didn’t send me into a panic. I found my way to slow down and breathe during run throughs. I felt like it was meant to go well. My focus and intention were on a clean, fluid, and emotive performance. Took an Epsom salt bath and completed two meditations the evening before. Stretched and stayed hydrated at the venue. An eliminated break stole five extra minutes from me, but I had to get on stage.
Everything felt good and flowed until my right calf cramped during an aerial invert. I recovered for the helix and twisted knot. Then something in me glitched and I missed my meat hook. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong or how to reset. Recovered again, moved through the satellite, a dismount and my ending pose. Even with the error, I truly felt good when I walked off stage. I didn’t panic or bail and finished my performance. Overall, my effort felt much better than 2023 and I thought I had a small chance. My support system was proud of me! Competitors have messed up and still placed. It had to be a better result than fourth out of four. Well wouldn’t you know it was the same but worse, fifth out of five.
“Oh, okay. Damn,” from me as Aud and I checked the score sheet. I didn’t want to be bothered by it, I tried to be positive. I watched the videos my friends sent me and saw every flaw. My Wednesday run through felt great, why couldn’t I replicate it on Saturday? A long day became infinitely longer. A few bright spots: seeing other friends and of course Rhea perform. She’s kind of unreal and I hope one day it clicks for me like it does for her.
The drive home was rough. Google Maps chose state highways instead of the interstate. I was terrified for most of the drive. Dark, no lights, unfamiliar area. When I walked through my door, I broke. Upstairs, I forcefully placed my bag on the floor and did some heavy-footed tap dancing trying to satiate my frustration. The positive head space ceded and I wept. It felt the same as 2023. I thought I progressed, learned, had more connection with my body. Even with missing a move I’ve become proud of, I thought I did well. Good or okay. Dead last again.
It’s devastating when your hope and effort don’t match the outcome. How wrong had I been? Tried writing it out, the journal entry looks hysterical. I felt like I let people down. I put a great deal of effort into calming my mind and speaking positively to myself. Perhaps it wasn’t enough. My mind won’t let go of what I did wrong and the annoyance of realizing AFTER what I could have done to execute the meat hook.
I didn’t sleep for 8-9 hours like I hoped to. Took my Sky Team’s advice and reinstated my brunch reservation. It was a nice distraction. On Monday, I took my linesister’s advice for a mental health day. I was too fragile and exhausted to put on or maintain a mask at work. That’s tied into my yet to be formally identified neurodivergence and constant search for confidence’s foundation.
Eventually, it will sting less. Embarrassment doesn’t last forever. For right now, I’m down, disappointed in myself. A little confused. I have class tomorrow and therapy on Saturday. A petty streak lives in me, I know I’ll try again until I get what I want. I’m determined to prove to myself that I am good at something I love. I wish I had fucked up to another song, this one means so much to me. In vastly different circumstances with extremely disparate effects, the feelings are distant cousins.
I’ll have to make it up to sahn and myself. Add, tweak, revise. I’ll figure it out, for now I’ll let myself be sad for just a few more days.
PSO Triangle 2025: Hoping for Better
