Leaning into discomfort

I've been practicing the tennis backhand slice.

I've played tennis since I was twelve and had never mastered it. To be fair, I don't ever recall trying to. I might've tried once or twice, given up, and reverted to the strokes I was already comfortable with.

My backhand slice is now weak and unreliable. Which limits my options.

I like having options, so I decided to work on my technique.

In doing so, I've found the challenge to be more mental than technical.

I don't believe I can hit through the shot at the speed and power needed to get it over the net and bite through the court. I feel awkward and I feel like I look awkward. Each time my racket hits the ball feels like a gamble. I don't know if it'll float up or fold into the net.

This happened during a scrimmage in which I was at the net volleying. I went in for the backhand slice and the ball fell flat. Ugh.

"Lean into it. Don't resist. Lean in," my doubles partner encouraged me.

Lean into it.

I didn't realize I was doing the opposite.

I was backing away and hitting late, producing an outcome that only enforced my belief that I'm not the type of person who can do backhanded slices. My hands are already smaller than average. I tried it in the past and it didn't work. What am I even doing? This is ridiculous. This is more proof that I can't do it.

So much negative chatter. No wonder I was resisting and backing away from the ball!

The truth is that I can do backhanded slices. Because I did. They weren't effective nor powerful, sure, but they still happened.

If I wanted to improve, I could decide to see it as a skill that I'm learning to get better at. I could also decide that improving isn't a priority now and that's okay. I'm playing because I enjoy the sport. My having fun isn't contingent on flawless backhand slices.

None of it is a big deal.

But I want to improve. It would be fun to be able to play a backhand slice with confidence. I don't like that the reason I would give up is because it's too difficult.

What's too difficult isn't wrapped up in the how-tos of executing a backhand slice. No. It's my belief that a result not currently in my reality is possible for me.

My sense of what's possible is shaped by my experience. This is true for the majority of people. If I look into the past, I won't find evidence that I can play backhanded slices.

To bridge the gap between where I am now and where I want to be, I must look to the future for evidence that it's possible. Because future Tracy has done it. (Yes, I often consult future Tracy who is everything I want to be, and we have a lovely relationship).

I'm in the messy middle where I've decided to try getting better and I'm sucking at it. It's uncomfortable how terrible I am at this. This is not surprising. Of course I'm experiencing discomfort. I'm doing something new and unfamiliar!

I know that with time and consistent effort, I'll get to the place where I can play backhand slices.

To experience discomfort on the journey to ~the goal~ doesn't mean I should stop, quit, or resign to the fact that I'll never be able to do this.

Resisting discomfort will only exhaust me. I'll eventually convince myself to stop or quit so I don't have to feel uncomfortable anymore.

Instead, I can allow discomfort and feel it on purpose. This will take me where I want to go.

I can see sucking at something before I get better as the admission price for confidence.

I can greet and welcome it. "Oh, hello, discomfort! How very nice to see you again. Sorry for shooing you away last time. Come in, make yourself at home and stay as long as you need."

I can see it as supporting evidence for the type of person I'm becoming: someone who isn't afraid of a challenge.

To feel discomfort on purpose means leaning in at the next opportunity to practice my backhand slice.

And the next.

And the next.

And the next.

However more times...until I don't even notice my effort because playing a backhand slice is normal and drama-free. Like the rest of my tennis strokes. If I did it with those, I can do it with the backhand slice.

Lean into discomfort, dear reader. Embrace it. On purpose.

What happens when you do? Aren't you curious what's on the other side?

I'll tell you.

It's growth. It's possibility. It's confidence.