By Emily Braunewell, EdM, LMHC, CMPC, BSPP Consultant
Welcome to the BSPP Blog! In this series, “Meet…”, we’re taking you behind the scenes for a glimpse into the work we do. All identifying information has been modified or composited to preserve our clients’ confidentiality, and “C” has been used to represent the “Consultant.”
In this first installment, we are focusing on Anna, a collegiate gymnast who came to see us at the insistence of her coach.
This is what I wanted, right?
When Anna strolled into the first practice of her junior year, she was met by the familiar scene of the college gymnasium: the thick, almost palpable smell of rubber and sweat; her teammates’ excited voices hurtling around the cavernous space; the balance beam, resting patiently in its usual spot near the left-hand wall. Anna liked to imagine that the beam would perk up in response to her entrance, the way a beloved family dog might greet you after a long day away from home.
Yet, as she joined the rest of her team in the warm-up circle, she started to become aware of something new in the air. Anna started to notice the way that her teammates were looking at her, or more so, the way they looked to her. How freshmen seemed to wait for her cue, or how her friends would look to her to clarify instructions. When her coach asked her to lead the cheer at the end of practice, Anna paused, not realizing at first that coach was asking her, and not whoever was standing behind her. This realization had Anna practically floating off the floor, and any exhaustion from training was almost wiped away by the swell of pride warming her chest.
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The following day, Anna had just crossed the gym threshold when she heard her name from across the gym. She turned to see her coach standing by the bleachers, chatting quietly with the assistant coaches and waving at Anna to join them.
“Big year, right?” Coach smiled. “I know it’s only the first week, but if you can continue that momentum from last season, regionals will be a cakewalk. We think you might even get a shot at nationals. How does that sound?”
Anna beamed. “That’s the goal! I just need to stick my ariel for beam. I want that to be perfect before the first meet.”
“No problem, you’ll get it,” Coach said. “Listen, you probably noticed today that we’re hoping to change things up for you a little this season. Not just because you’re an upperclassman, but also because you’ve been one of our top performers since day one.”
“We have a lot of work to do this season, if we want to have a shot at conference,” one of the assistants added, “so we’re really counting on you to take the lead this year.”
“Exactly,” Coach said. “We know we can trust you to make in impact, so that we can focus more on the girls who need the extra push. Do you think you can handle that?”
“1000%,” Anna nodded. “No problem at all.”
Satisfied, Anna’s coaches sent her away to lead the warm-up. Anna tried her best to not let the conversation with her coaches show on her face, wanting to remain the cool, confident Anna that she knew herself to be, and as she made her way to the beam, she was fairly sure she was pulling it off.
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Anna ran her hands along the smooth surface of the beam. She played one last walk-through of her routine in her mind and waited for her coach to give her the all-clear to begin. While she waited, she glanced around at her teammates, taking in their eager expressions one by one, finally landing on her coach, who was flashing her a thumbs up.
Anna’s heart ticked up in speed, but she brushed it off as the thrill of starting a routine. She raised her arms in salute, letting muscle memory take over, and hoisted herself up onto the beam.
Don’t fall.
It was there and gone in a fraction of a second, but that was plenty long enough for the thought to catch Anna’s attention. She swallowed, eyes locked ahead, and went into her split leap. The easiest part of her routine. Usually.
Anna’s feet found the beam with a sharp thud that reverberated up through the soles of her feet. Her center of gravity wavered. Her arms raised on instinct, searching for balance.
Already messed it up, Anna’s brain snapped. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her coach’s shoulders tense, the universal sign for “oof.” She spun on her toes toward the edge of the beam, grateful for the brief reprieve of dance before she set up for her ariel.
Don’t. Fall.
She caught another glimpse of her coach before she pushed off. Was that worry on her face? Anna felt the familiar sensation of the world tilting around her, waited for the moment where her toes touched the beam.
On the beam, only a few inches separated a stuck landing from a disaster, and Anna had been at this long enough to know almost immediately that it was going to be the latter.
Her foot slipped, and her world kept tilting, and then Anna was on her back, staring at the ceiling of the gym.
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This was Anna’s favorite part. Usually.
The crowds never disappointed at a home meet. They traded in the old practice gym for the shining university arena, diligently transformed overnight to host the three teams competing that day. The floor rattled with cheers for each athlete announced into the space, and when Anna heard her own name echo through the speakers, she thought she felt those cheers raise a fraction louder.
She found her parents right away. They stood waving with a level of enthusiasm that seemed to somehow grow over the however-many meets they’d attended through the years. Anna normally rolled her eyes at this display, even as she smiled in appreciation.
But at the sight of her parent’s excitement, the sound of the crowd around them, and the feel of her teammates pressed against her on either side, Anna’s heart began to pound in her chest. This time, she couldn’t seem to brush it off as just a pre-routine thrill. It suddenly felt as though she was trying to breathe through a straw, and her body was nearly rocking with the force of her heartbeat.
What’s going on!? Anna glanced down the line at her teammates. Was anyone else feeling this way?
All she saw was a row of eager, smiling faces, aside from the handful of girls who preferred a quiet, focused approach to warm-ups. As far as she could see, she was the only one who felt a fist closing around her lungs, or whose hands were beginning to shake.
Get it together. Remember what Coach said, I need to step up this year.
For the last several weeks, this voice in Anna’s head had gotten louder, more forceful. Every practice she spent looking up from the ground to see Coach’s concerned face hovering above her seemed to fuel it even more.
“You’re thinking too much,” Coach would say. “Just relax, focus on one step at a time.”
As if it were that easy. Anna had never felt further from relaxed. The more she tried, the more the voice in her head would remind her of that look on Coach’s face.
That day, warm-ups felt longer than they ever had. Every second that ticked by was another notch tighter around Anna’s throat, to the point where even raising her voice to cheer for her teammates felt difficult. When it was finally time for beam, her mental run-through was being constantly interrupted by the memory of her back hitting the floor.
I’ve done this so many times before, Anna told herself. Why is today any different?
But what if it is? There was that voice again. I’ve barely been able to land my routine in practice. What if I’ve lost it? Everyone’s expecting a conference champion, and I can’t even stay on my feet.
Anna shook her head. She tried taking a deep breath, but her lungs felt stiff and almost painful. She took a moment to lay her hands on the beam, half-hoping that it would offer her a word of comfort.
Anna raised her hands up to salute the judges.
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“So, what brings you in?”
Anna’s BSPP C offered an encouraging smile to the young woman in the chair across from her. Anna sat rim-rod straight, perched on the edge of the chair with her hands in her lap. Her face was relaxed, but C noticed her foot bouncing to some internal rhythm, could see her fingers absently twisting at one of her rings.
Anna shrugged. “Coach thought it would be a good idea. I haven’t been able to hit my beam routine at all this season, and we can’t figure out why, so she suggested I talk to you. She thinks it might be a mental block or something.”
C nodded. “Gotcha, and what do you think about that? Have you ever done anything like this before?”
“Not really, no,” Anna glanced at her hands. “We had a sport psych come in to do a talk about performance anxiety once but, that’s pretty much it. But at this point, I’m willing to try anything.”
“Would it be helpful if I told you a little bit about how this goes? So that you know what to expect?”
Anna nodded.
“So, this first meeting is mostly just us getting to know one another a bit,” C said. “I’ll ask a lot of questions about gymnastics, but also things like family, friends, school, even what you like to do for fun. From there, we’ll try and see what’s been going on with beam, which means looking at how you’ve been feeling, what you’ve been thinking, how you prepare, and so on. After that we’ll see what skills or tools might help you get where you want to go. Does that sound okay?”
“Yeah, totally,” Anna said. “And so, how long does this usually take?”
C cocked her head. “Which part?”
“I don’t know,” Anna smiled nervously. “To get better, I guess?”
C chuckled, leaning back in her chair. “Did you have a timeline in mind?”
“Is it bad to say ‘as soon as possible’?”
C shook her head. “It’s certainly not ‘bad’ to say at all. It just gives me an idea of your expectations. I unfortunately can’t tell you an exact timeline, because it depends on what you need. Some folks can work through blocks in just a few sessions, while others take a bit longer, maybe a couple months, to reach their goals.”
C noticed Anna tense at the word “months.”
“I just really want to get this figured out,” Anna said. “It’s already the third meet of the season. I have to start scoring if I want to make it to regionals.”
“Okay, let’s start there,” C said. “Tell me more about your goals for regionals….”
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