I’ve already spoken about my many reasons for loving rope, but this time I’ll talk about finding that love again.
I had a moment at FetFest, a situation that made me doubt myself and my abilities as a rigger. It wasn’t dangerous. It wasn’t unsafe. It was just…frustration, and a feeling of…incompetence?
I felt like I didn’t deserve the praise I was getting, the confidence others had in my skills, the belief that I was better than I thought I was.
And, due to this particular moment, I didn’t try to suspend myself for almost a month. I let my rope sit in a corner, trying to not see it. I walked by it each day, not acknowledging the joy or happiness it had previously brought me.
For in that one moment, I felt like rope work was beyond me. I felt like I had failed before I had even started. I felt lost.
So when Big Bro came to visit, I looked forward to having some quality time in his strands. Life, however, carved another path. Big Bro and Lil Sis were tired and went to bed early (as in around midnight). I wasn’t ready to go to sleep.
Instead, I found myself downstairs, Big Bro’s rope at my disposal. I needed to have the constriction, the feel of being it his strands, whether by his hands or my own.
I was nervous, unsure again of myself. I started tying a simple chest harness, the one I can do blindfolded and upside down, if need be. With each new bend in the rope, I cinched tighter, hugging myself more, pushing my emotions closer to the surface.
Chest harness complete, I started work on a hip harness. After winding the rope around me, I tried my rig. There was something off about the hip work. So I undid the hip harness and adjusted it, giving myself more room for my weight to be supported and more points of contact on my legs and ass.
Then, I lifted. I attached my chest harness. I raised my left leg. Sitting into my left side, I elevated my right leg. I could not touch the ground. Slowly, I lowered my chest and allowed myself to float, free, comforted, soothed. I remembered what is was like to be in the air, by my own hand, tied with my own knots, floating because of my work. I felt like me again.
Tonight, I played with rope. I was happy. I’ve found it again, that thing about rope that draws me in, that gets me there. Though I know it could happen again, I hope I never feel that twinge, that doubt, that insecurity so vast that I forget my love of this art.
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