Aspire Magazine: Inspiration for a Woman's Soul.(TM) June/July 2018 Aspire Mag Full Issue | Page 35

“The sooner you do what I tell you, the
sooner you’ll be free,” he said. He looked up
from his notes, his dark eyes glowing. “Are
you willing?”
I nodded. “Yes.” My voice came out barely
above a whisper. Rain pattered against the
windows. I’d come here to figure out what
subconscious beliefs were holding me back
and I was going to do whatever it took.
“First, do improv. Second, speak about the
domestic abuse situation you experienced.
Third, take an exotic dance class.” He
looked straight at me. “Will you commit to
doing all three things?”
I looked down at my hands, which lay in my
lap. Dance? No problem. Improv? Sounded
fun. Speak about the years of abuse I’d
endured? A pit grew in my stomach. Nausea
threatened. I looked up. But my voice firm
as I said, “Yes, I will do whatever it takes.”
With that, he pushed back from the long
conference table which separated us.
“We’re done here.” After a brief hug, he
disappeared through the door.
I drove straight to the airport, and, once
through security, sent a Facebook message
to a former colleague who I knew had
performed improv. We hadn’t spoken in over
seven years yet, to my delight, he responded
immediately. Before I boarded the flight
home, I’d registered for an introductory
improv class. I decided to trust that the right
opportunities for the other two tasks would
present themselves to me as easily as this
one had.
Improv class took place on Wednesday
nights. Our instructor taught us how to
disengage our brains, stop planning, and
just feel the moments where we’d respond.
Disengage my brain? I prided myself on being
a deep thinker (okay, an overthinker). It had
taken me years to show my intelligence after
dumbing myself down in order to fit in. Now
I was being instructed to detach my logical
brain. You promised, Debby. Then I had an
epiphany: these tasks were all about trust.
To my surprise, being present and
responding to my scene partner was not
only incredibly freeing, it was fun. Leaning
into possibility and trusting whatever came
out of my mouth felt uncomfortable and yet I
did it. And I was pretty funny.
As we neared our showcase where we’d
perform in front of a live audience, I received
an email from a dear friend Ann.
“I saw this opportunity and thought of you,”
She wrote. Ann held a special place in my
heart because she’d texted me daily during
the worst period of my life. Her messages
were often a lifeline during a time when my
then-husband careened out of control.
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My mentor’s voice
rang in my head,
“The sooner you
speak, the sooner
you’ll be free.”