Everything I’ve ever let go has claw marks on it. ~ David Foster Wallace

Angel Drop, aka Not Today, Satan, aka my silks nemesis for nearly two years, aka, my whole life. We first learned this move back in the fall of 2021. I’d been practicing silks for maybe 6 months then, and was thrilled with the things we had already learned. I felt so brave, so boundary-pushing, so age-defying, so BADASS. Until Teresa introduced the Angel Drop. Our first “official” silks drop. I watched her demonstrate in awe. I watched my fellow aerial classmates climb up, fearless, and fling themselves ass-over-teakettle, squealing in delight. 

From the get-go, I was wholly, unequivocally terrified of the drop. I mean, I’ve got some osteoarthritis in my hands, and this weird vertigo that shows up out of nowhere now and then (never in a silks class; rather, usually when I’m just sitting around doing nothing, curiously). At times, my grip strength feels tenuous. And, I’m afraid of heights. Doubly afraid of dropping from any height at a break-neck speed. Triple-y afraid when I’m supposed to do it ON PURPOSE. 

To execute Angel Drop, you first flip upside down (it’s best to climb at least a few climbs, to lessen the chances of slamming head-first into the floor when it comes time to drop), then crochet-hook your legs up into the silks before clamping your legs together—THE SHEER CLAMPING OF MY THIGHS IS ALL THAT’S KEEPING ME FROM FALLING ON MY HEAD WHILE HANGING UPSIDE DOWN, FOLKS—while I quickly wrap the silks around my waist, then heave myself up into a seated position that will never not make me think of a parachutist trapped in a tree. From here, wrap legs 3x with the tails, lean forward, arms reaching overhead and LET GO. Which will send you hurtling floor-ward in a turbulent blur, unless you remember to put your arms out to stop yourself with the poles (the straight-up and down taut part of the silks are called “poles,” the loose fabric ends are “tails”). 

For several weeks, we practiced the drop. I worked my way up to the seated position just before the drop, but I would. not. let. go. I could. not. let. go. I absolutely. refused. to. let. go. NO matter how many times I practiced, no matter how much encouragement from Teresa and my fellow aerialists. I just couldn’t do it. It was then that I decided, in my head, to face the truth: I am not the daredevil that my aerial artist-classmates are, and that’s okay. I mean, for the love of goddess, I’m a good 20 (hell, maybe 30) years older than they are. I can be content with the things that I am learning, because already, I’m pushing my tight boundaries beyond what I ever thought possible with this practice. 

But, I was also a little sad inside. I wanted to drop. Like, really drop. From a hight taller than just barely taller than me. Alone, without Teresa Cannon Tebbe standing behind me, holding me steady by my ankles, patiently waiting as I’d start the countdown: “3…..(DEEP BREATH)….2….(DEEP BREATH)….no, i’m sorry, I just can’t…” then chicken out, every fucking time, and slowly make my way back down to earth.  

So then, life happens, as it does, and we all got busy practicing other things, and the Angel Drop went on the back burner, Just recently, we re-visited the drop. Long story short, I LET THE FUCK GO. And yes, there might have been a few claw marks on the way down…xo #angeldropthatshit