My Beginnings and My Strings

 

Before I ever stepped onto the high wire, I knew why I was doing it — it was my mom. She was my safety net, the one who made the world feel steady when nothing else did. 

In every emotional storm, she was there — listening and making my feelings feel safe and real. Her quiet, unwavering presence shaped me.

I wanted to be that kind of presence for others.

So I climbed the ladder — carrying her values, fueled by a vision of what this work could be. Grad school felt like the platform before the walk: full of passion, purpose, and hope. I soaked up everything with open eyes and an open heart, convinced I was ready. I knew the rope. I’d practiced enough.

Once leaving the security of school and the platform, I was officially on the high wire. I grabbed my balancing stick and started to walk. 

My personal strings had an idea of how this walk should go.  

This is the conversation that I had with my own disempowering strings. 

Maybe you and I have a string or two in common. 

Ok strings - are we all here?

High standards and perfectionism? here

Defense Mechanisms? (Denial? Reaction Formation?) here

Codependency - you're a big one - Absorbing others energy 

we're here...

Alright, you've got the mic - 

Great, thanks - ok - listen

(High Standards and Perfectionism) 

You’re going to walk that wire perfectly. Every step sharp. Every move precise.  

The act must be flawless. Your presence? Impressive. Your performance? Impeccable. Mediocrity isn’t part of this show.

People will get better—because of us. They have to 

(Denial)

Even if something feels off—it’s not. You’ll smile. You’ll nod. You’ll hold your posture. 

You’ll look composed, always.

(Reaction formation)

Yeah, people talk about misery and challenge in this field. But not you. That’s for other walkers. You’re built different. Stronger. Smarter. Above it.

(Codependency and energy absorption)

We carry it all. We balance all of the spinning plates. Boundaries? Limits? Those are luxuries for people who aren’t built like us. We need nothing. We give everything—always. Nothing affects us. Nothing can beat us. 

We’re not selfish. We show up, no matter what. Because if we don’t, who will? Nobody

We'll carry their pain. 

We don’t step off the rope, even when we’re broken or bleeding. We ignore our pain. 

We keep walking. That’s the standard.

We're all in. Attentive, compassionate, motivated. Open to all. And yeah, there's some weird heaviness there where you feel a little like you're half dead - but we're gonna ignore that! 

Absorbing the pain? Well we didn't mean to do that, that feels horrible, but what the heck we do that too. 

You've got this, now go prove it. 

End string rant

I opened up a lot—looked to supervisors for guidance, clung to their wisdom to steady my steps. For the first three years, I inhaled psychology books like air. I was desperate to feel prepared, like I could live up to the weight of this role.

Outside the wire, I tried to keep things balanced—made time for friends and family, stayed active, picked up hobbies, enjoyed happy hours, tried to hold onto some version of normal.

But the more the rope wobbled beneath me, the more I questioned my footing. 

Even feeling the imbalance, noticing more and more exhaustion—I kept moving. Even as concern crept in, I buried it, compartmentalized it, or shut it down.