Return to childhood, but it’s never the same
Growing up we had a trampoline. We didn’t get it until I was a teenager, and only because we (my brother and I) begged, but we got one. We loved that thing. I used it a lot, both of us did. I just loved the feeling of flying in the air, knowing that I was in control.
When I was suffering from the worst of my depression, after I graduated high school, I would frequently go outside in the midst of my anger freakouts and just jump as high as I could. Sometimes I’d beat the trampoline, venting my overwhelming emotions in the only way I have ever physically let myself. I never scream, I never punch bags or throw things. But I let myself slam into that trampoline.
I was sad when I moved. It’s weird not having it. I am just really so fond of it.
Friends of ours have a trampoline. Normally if we’re over there so are a bunch of other peoples’ kids, so I just stay away from it – it’s not like I’m going to interrupt their fun. Last year I was doing IVF (read: getting fat and sore) and then pregnant. I certainly didn’t touch it then.
So yesterday when we were hanging out at that friend’s place I eyed the trampoline. I’ve lost a lot of that weight I’ve been carrying. I’m no longer pregnant. Plus I was feeling a little bit emotional, and the idea of sneaking out back behind the trees to jump was too much to ignore. So I did.
Boy does my body function differently than it used to. I felt wobbly, which is foreign for me on a trampoline. Landing on my back and bouncing back up again felt a little off… obviously I wasn’t displacing my weight quite right. After a little bit it started to come back though. It felt more familiar under my feet.
I got brave enough to try a flip. And… okay, I missed. I landed on my butt about 6 times. My body felt so heavy going around… not in a heavy weight kind of way, but it’s like I forgot how to tuck my body in to spin quickly. It took a lot of effort to haul myself over, and I couldn’t quite get my legs under me in time. There’s no harm or danger in that, by the way – front flips are fun because if you “miss” you just land indignantly on your rear end, and one of the first things you learn on a trampoline is how to fall gracefully! So I just landed with a frown and an “umph!” and then tried again. But I did it! And once I landed one of them it’s like my body said, “Oh, right!” and I landed three in a row. I got off feeling quite pleased, panting heavily from my effort.
A couple hours later my neices (7 years old) wanted me to come jump with them. So I did. We went over and I bounced with them a little bit. They are of course not as steady on their feet as an experienced teenager would be, so it was just light bouncing so they wouldn’t fall down. We ran around, they talked my ear off, we layed on the trampoline and watched the clouds. (One looked distinctly like a pig roasting. I swear to god.) Then we’d get up and bounce some more.
That’s about when I said, “Ow.” I shrugged my shoulders – that hurt. Eh. I stuck it out a little bit longer, but finally I had to excuse myself and go sit down by the pool. It didn’t get any better.
By the time we drove home shrugging my shoulder caused a jolt of pain in my right shoulderblade. This morning the sharp pain was gone, but my entire upper back feels sore as hell. Something feels off.
Did I mention I’ve been seeing a chiropractor who’s been trying to put my spine back in order? Hahaha. Yeah. I already have an appointment set for tomorrow, thank the light! I’m thinking she’s not going to be so thrilled with my great effort in fucking my back up on her.
Maybe 140 is still too much weight for my body to carry in stress like that. Maybe my body’s just not ready to do stuff like that again yet. Either way 25 feels far too young to be wrenching my back this badly by jumping on a trampoline. I am betrayed!
If the chiro says I should not be doing that anymore I’ll be asking her what I can do so that I one day can. I have a feeling that from now until I get pregnant again I am not going to be able to let this go. The trampoline was once my sanctuary. I cannot accept that it is no longer an option for me.

I hope you don’t take offense at this, but it’s always so hard for me to remember that you’re only 25. You have been through so much, and are so sensitive and thoughtful in your writing, it’s hard to believe you’re so young. I’m sorry if that’s totally condescending.
I just think about what I was like when I was 25 and I don’t think I could even tie my shoes, I was SO immature and you are such a grown up in comparison. Of course, what you’ve been through will do that. Dammit. I’m sorry, this is coming out way more awkward than I meant it.
The body betrays, this has been the phrase running through my head. I would think that you’re probably still recovering physically.
The image of you bouncing on that trampoline, the feeling of flight and lightness, freedom: it just sounds wonderful. I’m so glad you got to experience again, to feel that lightness, if only for a little while.
LOL No offense taken. Honestly people have been saying that for years… even as a teenager people would forget I was so young. I don’t know, I skipped a big part of my life. Honestly I think the depression started early, and with my self-esteem and anxiety issues, well, there wasn’t a lot of time left over for being carefree or stupid. ;) Maybe that’s why my body’s infertile… it thinks I’m older than I am, LOL. (Even my RE said, “You’re young, you’ll be pregnant in no time!” Hahahaha.)
Yeah, I think my body’s still recovering physically from everything. I know everything was out of alignment (a result of pregnancy) so I probably shouldn’t have even attempted it. But eh. It felt good for a little bit, lol.
I really hope that you can find a way to be able to use the trampoline again — or, if that’s out, to find another kind of physical sanctuary. You describe it so vividly that I could almost visualize your flips and falls.
Trampolines scare me, because I’m always worried I might accidentally jump sideways and fly right off, either landing in bushes and getting a bush-burn on my face, or impaling myself on a picket fence. Maybe someday I’ll be ready.