This was captured at Crossroads Island, Maldives in Dec'23.
You know that feeling when you start something new and think, "How hard can it be?" Yeah, that was me with handstands. Just a couple of hands holding up my whole body—simple, right? Until I actually tried it. Those first attempts? Let's just say, the ground and I got real familiar, real fast. Balancing on my hands felt like trying to stand on a tightrope in a windstorm. My arms wobbled, my fingers clawed the floor, and I'd land with a thud that echoed down my spine. If you'd told me then how long this journey would take, I might've backed out right there. But something in me was hooked.
Those first weeks were brutal. I was sweaty, frustrated, and sore in places I didn't know existed. And every time I'd plant my hands, hopeful this would be the attempt, gravity had other ideas. I was sure I looked ridiculous. But slowly, and I mean painfully slowly, things started to click. Little adjustments—my fingers dug into the ground just so, my arms steadied a millisecond longer. It wasn't progress anyone else could see, but I felt it. And if I'm honest, that kept me going.
But let's be real—it wasn't smooth sailing. There were days I'd think, "Why am I doing this to myself?" I'd stand there, defeated, hands sore, wondering if maybe I was just kidding myself. I mean, what kind of person puts themselves through hours of practice for a skill as ridiculous as standing on their hands? It felt so silly some days, like I was chasing a dream no one else would understand. But then I'd think, "What if tomorrow is the day?" And that tiny "what if" kept pulling me forward.
And then, it happened. Out of nowhere, after months of struggle, I planted my hands, kicked up, and… I was balancing. For the first time, everything clicked. My hands were firm, my arms locked, and my whole body felt light, as if I'd broken free from gravity itself. I could feel the ground beneath my fingers, every muscle in my body working together. I was upside down, and for a moment, time stood still. It was glorious—and worth every fall.
But here's the thing: that moment, that so-called "overnight success"? It was anything but. It was hours of invisible work, of failing over and over until my body finally learned the dance. And that's when it hit me—this journey was never really about the handstand. It was about learning to keep going when nothing seems to be working, to find joy in the process, even when the end seems miles away.
Most people give up long before they get there. And I get it. There's no worse feeling than giving your all and seeing no results. But I promise, if you can stick with it through those dark days, you'll find something worth every second. That thrill of finally getting there? It's like nothing else. And once you've tasted it, you realize it was never about the handstand. It was about proving to yourself that you're stronger than the doubt, that you can do hard things, that you can get back up every time you fall.
So the key takeaway here is: Embrace the journey, all of it. Every wobble, every fall, every moment of doubt. Trust that you're closer than you think, that your "overnight success" is right around the corner. And when you finally reach it, you'll see—you weren't just learning a skill. You were becoming someone who doesn't quit, someone who's okay with seeing the world from a new angle. And that, my friend, is worth every bruise.