More than the Barre

It was 2016. I was twenty-two and my dad passed away just four months ago. At that time, I was a Senior in college, trying my best to get through my last year and to just graduate. I could have taken a longer break, but something important to my dad was education - and in a way, it felt like I was doing this for and with him. 

I was living on my own for the first time, and just a few months before this, I was living with a few girls from an organization I was a part of in college - but at this time my heart just needed space. Space to grieve, space to sleep in, and in a way - space to be introverted and process this new "normal" - this new way of living within my story. 

Before living on my own, there was a moment when my heart and body aligned, helping me make a decision that would have been hard to act upon otherwise. So, I have to rewind a bit and start a little before this takes place. This happened eleven months into my dad's passing.

This is us at a burger place called "Mugshots" in Alabama after the move.

One afternoon, when my mom was visiting me for the weekend at college, I broke down in my apartment kitchen crying, explaining how exhausted my body, heart, and mind felt from the grief and current living circumstances. I felt overwhelmed by my current roommate situation and my mom responded by sharing that I had to take care of myself and get a space of my own. So, that following day that's exactly what we did -  on a Sunday when most apartment complexes were closed. We drove around Birmingham, Alabama for a few hours calling leasing offices, private rentals that had "for rent" signs in their yards, and even some homes that were accepting tenants - some answered, most did not.  Mind you, my mom also had to work and leave for Florida that very next day - which gave us exactly one day to look and then one day to move into my new apartment. That Sunday, we narrowed our options, called my stepdad to see if it was a good choice, and signed a lease (it was also one of the apartments that were open and accepting applicants that same day- which definitely played a role in our decision). That Sunday and Monday my mom and I moved everything from one apartment to the other without help (insert this photo for proof- sorry Mom).

After dinner, we went to the now-new apartment to shower. However, once we got there, we realized that our water would not be turned on until Monday afternoon. It was nine o'clock at night on Sunday, and our options for finding a shower were slim! My mom then looked up at me surrounded by boxes, and said "We're finding a gym with a shower." Because it was late at night, the gym's office hours were closed and required you to be a member. My mom on the way to the gym said "Okay, Maddy, when we see somebody go in, we are going to walk confidently behind them so that we can get in" (again, sorry Mom)... and her plan worked.

When we arrived at the gym, a man was opening up the door through his membership key fob. My mom and I got out of the car with our heads held high and he opened up the door for us - no problem. We did not look around but walked straight to the showers. When we entered the bathroom, we began to laugh until we cried (and this was a small gym, of which our laughter was probably heard throughout).Sometimes in grief what we need in the moment is strength, and softness, other times to just be still with someone by our side. At this moment, my heart needed my mom's strength and "problem-solving" abilities - and she offered exactly that. The following day she headed out and I was a young-twenty-something living on my own for the first time.

During this time in my life, I was unsure of who I was. I was experiencing loss and loneliness, was about to graduate from undergrad, and was unsure of how to rediscover joy again. The following weeks a desire began to grow where though I was “introverting” and spending a lot of time to myself, I wanted to move my body, find a hobby, and engage with people. One afternoon when I was walking around the stores near my apartment building, a place caught my attention-  a studio named “Grand Jetè” a “barre fitness and boutique.” 

Growing up, ballet has always played a part in my story. From three years old to eleven, ballet was one of my main interests - and when I turned eleven, I finally got on pointe. However, because I was a tween when I realized my instructor was a professional teacher from England who would take her “silver stick” and tap my booty to go lower and then explain how we now have to take “ballet seriously or we could get hurt,” when I was lacing up my pointe ballet shoes for the first time - I froze with fear. I walked out of ballet class that day and told my mom that I was done and that “it was too serious for me.” My mom allowed me to quit. Quitting ballet is one of my biggest regrets. I wish I would have stuck with it a little longer.

I have never lost my interest in dance and have always felt drawn to moving my body to the rhythm of music, listening for the beat, practicing good posture, and connecting to my body through defined movement- and when I realized that there was a workout designed for “small movements making big changes” around the idea of ballet, I felt my inner child open up with curiosity.

After trying the Grand Jetè and learning that there was a well-established corporate workout called “Pure Barre,” I looked for one in the area, and it immediately became a regular place for me that semester of college. A place for me to release some of my grief, connect with people, and move my body to the beat; this also restored a part of my heart that needed permission to move my body to music in freedom - something that felt lost at a young age ( side note, if you're a Pure Barre goer, one of my favorite exercises is the "circle" movement when working thighs because of this very reason). In this season of my life,  I needed Pure Barre. And as a young twenty-one-year-old, it became a place where -  when I was lonely I would go to be around people, when I was grieving, it offered some release, when I was feeling weak, or insecure in my body, it offered strength. 

In 2018 I moved to Colorado to pursue my Master’s in Clinical Mental Health Counseling. I found a Pure Barre in my area and met an instructor who offered a new dynamic to her classes that I hadn’t previously encountered. She used phrases like “bring your focus back into the room,” “release what you need in this space,” and “What do you need to hear from yourself throughout this workout?” Her playlist was always on point and her stretching songs offered a space to release tension. A few weeks into taking classes, I asked what she did for work and learned that she had her Master’s in Social Work - and from that moment I began to wonder what it would look like to be a Barre instructor as a therapist. 

Because of what Pure Barre offered my young heart, I then began to dream about what it would look like for me to become an instructor - offering a space for peoples’ hearts that I was offered as a client. From my own experience, I have learned that clients may come into Barre with grief, and loneliness, looking for a place to experience freedom in movement or to grow in confidence. In 2018 I wrote in one of my journals  “Become a Pure Barre instructor; and while it was written down, there was a part of me that never quite felt “extroverted, confident, or capable enough” to pursue it. I would take a class and thought the instructor had an “innate ability” that I lacked. However, from 2018-2014 that dream kept being written. 

Through the years my confidence in who I was made to be and comfort in being myself has developed - and continues to develop; and in 2024 I finally took the leap to become an instructor. I still get anxious and have to remind myself of who I am. I am learning how to grow in my skin and teach classes in the way I love to experience as a client. I am often surprised with myself that I am an instructor. That my young twenty-something heart that dreamed about it gets to finally step into that confidence almost nine years later. With each class, I say a prayer of gratitude and ask for strength; and with each class I am learning to offer myself kindness and grace. My development as an instructor is “still becoming,” and growing in confidence with every time I put on the mic.

When I attend Barre classes I often feel in my body like it is another sanctuary - a space where my body and heart are aligned to the blueprint of how I was designed to move. I often meet women who are struggling to connect with: their femininity, freedom in movement without feeling shame, a lack of confidence, and feeling disconnected from their bodies.

I discovered Barre during one of my lowest points in my life. I felt constant shame, grief, loneliness, and a ton of insecurities. During this time in my story, I chose to step into therapy, Church community, more freedom in my choices (more on that another time), and Pure Barre - and this was a new start towards healing for my heart. So I wonder, do you know what form of movement brings your heart that joy? Do you know what makes you feel connected to your body- a place or a form of movement where your heart, body, and soul feel aligned to your design? If not, there's still time.

Courage Dear Heart: Courage to try that class, and if you don't enjoy it - lace up those tennis shoes, go barefoot, put on that helmet, or those sticky socks, and try another one.. until you feel that alignment come. There is jot found in different forms of movement. There is permission, that if you don't feel that connectedness move on to the next one, to move not out of obligation, not from a place of joy. So, may you rediscover your joy and may you feel connected once again to your well-designed body, soul, and younger heart. May you find that freedom and strength; and if you are grieving, may you know that you are never alone and that when you don't have words to express your grief, and "when you do not know what you ought to pray for, the Spirit himself intercedes for you through wordless groans" (Romans 8:26 remastered).

|Songs: Intact: Falcon, & Hello My Old Heart: The Oh Hellos, & What If: Cody Fry

With Courage,

Maddy V. Hesslau