Many important life lessons were originally learned through my twirling. Positive training, discipline, perseverance and the ability to adapt graciously to victory and defeat, have carried over and helped me successfully cope with “real-life” challenges. As humans we are not always aware of our extraordinary abilities, but this year I have been gifted a few scenarios in which I have been able to realize my full potential. Different challenges present themselves to every individual.

On March 29, 2011, my son Jaidon, passed away. He was a 16 year-old miraculous gift to the world. I learned incredible lessons of selflessness, compassion and strength as he outlived his prognosis by 13 years. Every borrowed moment was beautiful. Although I will always miss his physical presence I feel so honored and grateful to have experienced his brilliant life. I must celebrate my good fortune for having been selected to be his mother.

Only 3 weeks after Jaidon’s departure, I was hit head-on by a teenaged driver at 50 mph. My extensive injuries included a punctured lung, fractured ribs, shattered kneecaps, and broken sternum. The worst injury was a 70% tear in my right shoulder, which remained dislocated for over two months. I was on heavy narcotics for about nine weeks and my body (and brain) turned to porridge. I was not expected to make a full recovery as the term “career ending” was thrown around more than a baton in a Pair’s routine.

After competitive twirling I found my way to an entertainment career based on my physical ability to perform and choreograph acts and shows. I’ve worked internationally with numerous theaters and circuses, including performing as a Special Events artist for Cirque Du Soleil. I am an adagio balancer, aerialist, fire expert, character actor and I have never stopped twirling. I could never imagine having to stop twirling . . . so I didn’t.

Today is a new day. My arms and chest are a bit sore. I just returned from physical therapy where I held a 45-second, unassisted handstand and completed six fully extended pull-ups. The therapists and surgeon have no medical explanation for my recovery. I don’t need one beyond refusing to accept that I would have to quit whipping, tossing, or elbow popping my life’s work.

Every aspect of life is an education if you pay attention to the lessons of positivity, discipline, and perseverance. The roads of twirling, dancing, public school, you name it, can all lead to the same understanding. Always strive for your highest potential and NEVER give up.

Annetta Lucero photo Nov. 2011 (post accident)

Q. How long does it take to decide to escape from psychological abuse and domestic imprisonment?
A. Less than a fraction of a second.
Q. How long did it take me to recognize that I was a victim of psychological abuse and domestic imprisonment?
A. 10 years, 3 kids, 1 move across the Pacific Ocean, and a single massage from my friend Norm.

How Norm Rocked My World . . .

I am a teacher. I live in Puna on the Big Island of Hawaii. If you have ever been here you don’t need to be told that I do not receive monetary payment very often for teaching circus skills to jungle dwelling, artist/eco community kids.
I have received avocado, eggs, drawings, second hand shoes, plants, friendship, strange juices, origami, seashells, goat cheese, photos and the occasional fresh caught fish.
I adore my student Kalani. I work with her quite a bit on a variety of circus skills and technique during group and private lessons. In December 2008 her parents came to me with an offer I couldn’t refuse. They had no idea that this kindness would change my path and ultimately free me from the cage of abuse I had been trapped in for a decade.
Kalani’s mom, Suzette, approached me after class one day. “My husband Norm used to be a masseuse. He doesn’t do it anymore but he would like to make an exception and help you with your spastic muscles.” (Because I have Lupus I have muscle spasms and constant pain in my joints.) Although this sounded like a dream come true I was reluctant. I knew my husband of ten years would be irate at the thought of another person touching me. He caused a great deal of grief even over my female balance partners, accusing me of having affairs with them. I learned to keep my distance from those around me, I feared greeting others with hugs in his presence. As my muscles twisted under my skin and my joints throbbed I made a quick decision. “Yes. That would be great! Thank you so much.”
My stomach churned all the way home. When I informed my husband of my fortunate trade he reacted in his typical way. “So your going to have a strange man sensually rub your body? No! You have to remember that you’ve led a horrible life. You are a selfish and bad person and you don’t know how to make good decisions. That’s why you have me to guide you. This is unacceptable and will harm the children.” He went on for a few hours and then days.
When lesson day came, I decided I would just have to deal with being a horrible person and I showed up for my massage.
I greeted the family and went up to the massage area. I was stiff and awkward waiting for Norm to enter the room. I could hear Suzette chatting and doing dishes below us. I tried to act as normal as I imagined others behave for such events.
Norm came in and did some deep breathing. He rubbed his hands together quickly. I lay there on my stomach like a dumb baby seal, clueless and wide eyed.
For about six of my ten year marriage I had not been offered compassion. I had been trained and berated for my many flaws and shortcomings. I had tried desperately to improve myself; to rise to the expectations of my husband so that I would reach that elusive goal of “good” person, wife and mother. In the last two years of my marriage I was sickened and would sometimes vomit after sexual encounters. It had not occurred to me that I could quit. Seek a new life. Escape. Feel valuable. I was focused on improving my deficits; after all, my husband’s lack of joy was my fault. I was a terrible person.
As Norm’s hands made contact with my back for the first time I was stunned. I felt warmth and healing shoot up my spine and into my hardened shoulders. I took in a deep breath, a real breath, and I felt relieved.
Norm is a conversationalist. He chatted and asked about my injuries, my day, my life; and as I relaxed I began revealing things I had never spoken of to others.
Norm: “Annetta, if this time doesn’t work we can do an evening session.”
Ned: “Oh no. I can’t go out after dark.”
Norm: “Really? Why not?”
Ned: “My husband doesn’t allow it except for high paying gigs. I’m trying to be a good person.”
Norm: “Well Suzette and I think you are a great person. You’ve been an incredible, strong influence in Kalani’s life.”
As Norm continued to work my muscles I continued to reveal my odd lifestyle. He listened without judgment and responded in a matter-of-fact way always coming back to something positive about me. As the session advanced something triggered in my mind and soul. A realization as vivid as a light bulb turning on in my brain. I HEARD the descriptions of my life as an audience member rather than a participant. It sounded odd and awful for someone to live that way. As I was absorbing this absurdity Norm produced a tidbit that transformed the light bulb in to a laser show.
Norm: “Did you know you’re a Fire Horse? Strong and amazing and powerful . . .”
He went on to explain many things about the Fire Horse and as he did, I grew more strong, amazing and powerful. Privately, in my mind, I saw the whole picture so clearly and realized that it was my perspective that kept me weak and imprisoned in my own home.
The session ended and I thanked and hugged Norm and Suzette. As I walked to my car my mind raced and my soul exploded with . . . freedom.
A different me drove home that day, confidently walked in the house, put on my choice of a CD and boogied down in the kitchen singing, “Sweetest Thing” at the top of my lungs. My perplexed husband came in and demanded an explanation.
Husband: ”What are you doing? Do you think you’re so cool and special?”
Ned: “You are abusive, I am awesome and I’m going to listen to and enjoy what I want to from now on. Also you creep me out, you’re mean and gross I am going to live my way and if you can’t adapt, go buy a tent.”
Husband: “ Is that right? . . . . .@#%*&@!!! . . . . . and if you ever think about leaving me I will see that you end up dead or in prison for the rest of your life.
Ned: “OK . . . . uuuummm . . . that doesn’t really affect me. I’m a Fire Horse.”
I continued my song and dance and my husband hit his knee on the corner of the kitchen post as he angrily stormed out.
Over the next few weeks my husband attempted a variety of schemes and strategies to get me back “under control” but it was pointless. The Norm encounter had rocked my world and I would never return to being a victim.
An unfortunate side affect happened during this time as well. I developed a ridiculous and raging crush on Norm. I did, however, realize it was an affect of my new awakening and I was misplacing my extreme emotions. I felt weird having this constant infatuation on my dear student’s dad and good friend’s husband.
The annual Le Chic Show was approaching and I came up with a solution to my disconcerting problem. I would put my over exerted libido into my art. I chose a favorite song and choreographed the shit out of it in my own driveway. Then I did the boldest thing. I invited my angry husband, who never watched or approved of my artistry, out to review my creation. I watched his twisted face as I finished my routine and proudly asked what he thought of it.
Husband: “So, what are you now? A prostitute?”
Ned: “No. I never plan on charging!”
I performed my act in the show. Norm stood on the left side of the audience wearing a black button down aloha shirt and black jeans. He looked good. He had no clue. My demonstration helped me recover almost entirely from the crush.
Not long after this performance my husband did try to kill me and he did succeed in having me falsely jailed; but only for a short time.
Suzette came to bail me out.
(A visiting artist to Belly Acres was with her. His name was Noah Moore . . . )

My Actual Performance.

If you are in an abusive relationship . . . seek freedom. You CAN do it.

Annetta & Noah: In make-up for a Cirque Du Soleil gig.

Annetta & Noah in character for “Lilly & Leo’s Luau”

Annetta and Noah enjoying the wedding.

Here’s a message from Holland. I follow you on facebook and always have had a deep respect for you. Everything you have gone through and are still going through. It’s heartbreaking, but I think you’re so strong.

Even now after the accident. It’s remarkable how you put yourself through. Even through the sad things, I read so many beautiful thoughts in the pieces you write.

Personally I know a little bit how you feel . . .

I received this note from Kristel Bijnen of Holland on June 14, 2011. Her opening lines were not indicative of the story to follow. This was not just a complimentary note that would make me feel great and find it’s way to a file. The honest way she explained the details of her situation, her lack of self-pity and her unbelievably positive approach to life brought me to my knees. She had no idea that her words and perspective had such power. She was simply writing to someone she admired. In Kristel, I found someone so genuine and inspiring she has since been in the forefront of my thoughts.
I asked Kristel if I could feature her on Terminal Circus. She gave it quite a bit of thought, consulted her family and friends and ultimately decided she would allow me the honor of sharing her story.
~The following account is comprised of excerpts taken from several letters and correspondence written to me by Kristel Bijnen. I made slight edits because Dutch is her first language. She is brilliant and I love her. She is pictured here with her sister.

. . . My situation is totally different. For me twirling is my passion, but for you it’s even how you make a living (in combination with circus) so it’s very different I think. Twirling always has been my passion, my every thing, and still is! I became sick when I was 16. Before that time I already had lots of pain from an injury on my ankle (caused by twirling) that lasted for about 2 or 3 years. I saw different doctors, but they said there was nothing wrong and I had to come back when I was in more pain. I kept going back but they said the same thing over and over again.

Lots of love, Kristel

~Last February it was discovered that Kristel’s heart is beating
dangerously fast. 50 to 60 beats a minute in rest is normal, Kristel’s is
beating at 120. She is currently under observation and testing.

Life has an odd way of showing us who we are sometimes.
Broken sternum, 3 damaged ribs, collapsed lung, shattered knee-caps, mangled right shoulder, severely punctured wrist and wrecked athletic career were the only obvious results after I was hit by a car on April 18, 2011.
I never imagined my broken body would lead me directly to an undiscovered talent.
My son passed away only 3 weeks prior to the accident and it seemed as if I was collecting tragedy as a hobby.
I was shipped home after a week in the hospital. My lung had been re-inflated, and I was too drugged to realize my soul could use a pump as well. I was not aware of much outside of my pain and the clock. Each ticking moment meant I was closer to my next dose of narcotics; Morphine, Oxycotin, Percoset, Vicodin . . . etc. etc. These were prescribed to me to cover the intolerable physical pain . . . But what about the rest?
It’s not easy laying around, unable to do anything for yourself, wondering if your son is really dead or if these thoughts are just part of the montage of horrors floating around in your drug laden mind.
A day or two after I arrived home I heard kids happily humming and chatting at the table. Remembering they belonged to me I had a hankering to see what they were up to.
My partner, Noah, helped me shuffle the 16 feet to where they sat, happily coloring with markers and crayons.
“I wanna color,” I slurred.
Unsure if I would be able to balance in the chair, Noah helped me sit and watched me teeter and drool as I looked at the blank copy paper in front of me.
After a bit I picked up a regular pencil and began drawing lines. A few minutes later I stopped drooling and was enthralled in the creation of a festive looking fish. Using the markers and crayons, I decorated the fish with colors and was quite pleased with my crude yet appealing project.
The next day I posted it on my Facebook page to demonstrate to my friends that I was indeed still functioning in some capacity. Everybody was very encouraging and I received a request to draw a butterfly.
Armed with my newest prop I began drawing what I thought was a typical depiction of the popular insect. A few hours later I held it up for my kids to admire.
“Mom, that’s weird! What is it?’ was the unflattering response.
Never one to worry about public opinion, I slapped it up on Facebook. The reaction was encouraging again . . . and so I continued.
After a couple of more drawings I went all out and asked my mom to take me shopping for my very own markers. As I clung to my mom and wobbled through the store I became very focused on finding the perfect tools. Remembering advice from a friend I chose a variety of Sharpies and some thicker paper.
I was excited to get home and begin my new project. I began to refer to my new creations using the term, “nARTcotics,” I was actually beginning to wean off of the drugs but the art seed had been planted and watered.
I never knew I had potential to create art on paper before I was taken out of my usual media of movement.
This experience has made me very aware of how magnificent we all are; how we possess talent, ability and beauty beyond what we are even aware of. We all have so much to offer to the world around us.
We all have so much to offer to ourselves.
In your seemingly worst moments, take a deep breath, pull yourself up and start shuffling, even if the motivation is someone else’s humming and chatting.
You just have to trust that life has an odd way of showing us who we are sometimes.
 
Click On Art To Enlarge
“CRASH”

 
“JAIDON”

 
“BLISS”

 
“Thom”

 
“Important Things”

 
“A Good Life”

 
“Bird”

 
“Lilia”

 
“Jorie’s Butterfly”

 
“Enough”

 
“FISH”