An Intricate Experience Of The Duality Of Life

When performance, fear of failure, self-doubt and pure joy meet up on the tennis court

On Sept.13th 2008, I climbed on — I mean, rolled to — the third step of the Paralympic Games tennis event in Beijing. Twice! I nailed bronze in singles and doubles with my French teammate. A significant achievement pairing with reaching World #1 in doubles and #2 in singles back in the years.

I played at all four Grand Slams. I won all of them, except on Wimbledon’s treacherous grass, which never let me win a single set.

Not bragging, I have been an accomplished wheelchair tennis player.

I hated tennis for a large part of my life — Andre Agassi

I relate. Despite reaching the top, draining off pure joys and genuine friendships. Despite landing extraordinary opportunities and widening my world. Despite self-growing and climbing up the absurd hill of life. I relate.

I didn’t truly hate tennis. I dreaded it.

But, tennis was my passport to self-discovery and self-awareness. I played to understand myself and achieve my authentic personality. I played to challenge myself, I, who hates fighting and all forms of opposition. I played to forge my identity, be admired, and end people’s desire to fix me. I played for the freedom of being who I wanted to be.

Sitting in a chair to perform is an act of freedom.

I embraced the sport as a life’s hazard. A lack of opportunity that turned into the chance of my life. Less than five years in, I received an invitation to join the French National Team at the World Team Cup in Flushing Meadows, NY. And off, I was, on my way to the moon. I was competing alongside the best players in the world and slowly entering their circle.

Please don’t call it talent. Read the great Why You Should Stop Calling People Talented by Liv Mello to understand why.

I was decent enough and a hard worker. I would train. I would try to figure out how to grow. I would set myself challenges because that’s who I am, you know — someone who dreads and dares myself. Dread, dare, defy, and design. All in once. All the time.

I stepped into a personal research lab with tennis, a terrifying and tempting place of absolute insecurity, where I’d stand alone facing my worst fears. Failure. Exposure. Not being enough. And fighting.

Individual sports don’t grant you the protection of a team. Your shoulders carry all responsibilities, which load your head while they drain your certitudes. Better have a strong self-partner to chat the inner talk and take courage out of it.

Tennis is a combat sport, just like boxing, except you have a racket in lieu of fists. But, the imagery is the same. Kill the point, the opponent. Punch your forehand. Don’t drop your guard, or you are dead. Toughen up, Girl!

I trained to kill or hurt. From afar, but still. I’ve been taught to throw a raging fist to impress my opponents, color my face with assurance and anger. Show off. Display the muscles. Be the Almighty.

Tennis is about technique, strategy, physical conditioning. And attitude. Look at Rafael Nadal — who, by the way, happens to be the sweetest guy on Earth. He would die on that court. Show the mighty biceps. Behave like a bull ready to stab the fighter. Then he’d crack a smile.

I am not one of them. I am not Rafa. The best I can do is pretending I am. Acting on the court. But, every time I threw a clenched fist at my opponent, I wanted to walk across the net and ask for forgiveness. Not good at all.

I can’t recall how many times my insides cried because they loathed running upstream. But, flaws hide behind the mask of resilience.

I’ll tell you what freedom is to me. No fears. — Nina Simone

I conquered freedom in overcoming my fears as I couldn’t let them go. They live in me. They are part of who I am. Not in the shallow, right under my skin. But in the deep ends, at the source of my soul. Where thoughts mutter and shutter the stream of dreams.

I conquered freedom in not giving my fears the right to seize my life. I was scared of failure, I would challenge the odds daily. I was afraid of exposure, I would look up to the stands and lift my chin. I was scared of not being enough, I would work harder on the training court. I was afraid of fighting, I would sing cheesy pop ballads in the locker rooms to declare my self-love.

It’s been ten years since I shut the lights down on my tennis career. I still struggle to measure the extraordinary outputs of a sport that ripped out my insides. I believe in duality of life.

Life barely resolves to follow straight routes. It’s meandering up and down. Great things nest in evil ones. From the stars sometimes fall a few tears. Florence Alix-Gravellier — I Write to Embrace My Story

Disability brought pains and joys to my life journey, just as tennis did. Embracing this duality in complete mindfulness carried me to heights I never thought I would achieve. And opened my heart to wider (wilder) dreams.

Here is to the next 40!

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I am a writer, speaker, Paralympian, mother of twins, and constant dreamer. I earned bronze in singles and doubles in Beijing 2008 as a wheelchair tennis player.

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