In this heartfelt episode of "Life is a Circus," host Stacy Yardley delves deep into her emotional final moments with her circus community. From the strict weight requirements to her eventual departure, Stacy opens up about the pressures she faced and the invaluable support from her friends and colleagues. She shares three essential lessons on reaching out for support, embracing empathy, and choosing hope amidst hardships. Plus, get a sneak peek into Stacy's upcoming live event, "Center Ring Conversations," and hear an inspiring excerpt from Brene Brown’s Rising Strong. Join us for an empowering journey of vulnerability and resilience.

Join the Special Event - Center Ring Conversations: A Backstage Pass to "Life is a Circus" - https://bit.ly/CenterRingConversations

Stacy Yardley is a Certified Life Coach and Transformation Catalyst specializing in guiding women in business to create more joy, self fulfillment, and satisfied life. Her work includes working with high performance women to create better boundaries, release perfectionism and breakthrough imposter syndrome through self mastery. Drawing from her experience as a former professional circus showgirl, Stacy is passionate about empowering individuals to realize their dreams and unlock their inner potential. Through empathy and intuitive guidance, Stacy helps women harness their personal power to achieve greater well-being and thrive in all aspects of their lives. Based in Vancouver, WA, Stacy enjoys exploring hiking trails, preparing fresh vegan meals, and cherishing moments with loved ones in her free time.  

Stay connected to “Life is a Circus: So, Let’s Step into Self Mastery”

Follow Stacy on Facebook: @iamstacyyardley or Instagram: @iamstacyyardley 

Get the inside scoop directly from Stacy by getting on the Backstage Pass email list: https://bit.ly/PodcastBackstagePass 

Our website: www.lifeisacircuspodcast.com

Want Stacy to speak at your event? stacy@stacyyardley.com 

Really love us and want to show it??

Give us a review on your favorite platform and share this (or any) episode with a friend. 

Word of mouth builds podcasts - we appreciate your support!!

We feel it is important to make our podcast transcripts available for accessibility. We use quality artificial intelligence tools to make it possible for us to provide this resource to our audience. We do have human eyes reviewing this, but they will rarely be 100% accurate. We appreciate your patience with the occasional errors you will find in our transcriptions. If you find an error in our transcription, or if you would like to use a quote, or verify what was said, please feel free to reach out to us at lifeisacircuspodcast@gmail.com

When life knocks us down, it's easy to feel like we're completely alone, like the world is against us and nothing can get us out of the mess that we're in. But what if the real power in those moments lies not in what happens to us, but in the people standing by our side, reminding us who we really are? Today, I'm going to share with you a deeply personal story about a time when everything seemed to fall apart but one thing kept me going, the love and support of the people around me. Oh, and be sure to stick around until the end. I have a very special invitation for you that you're going to want to hear. Are you ready to dive in? Here we go. Welcome to life as a circus. So let's step into self mastery, where we explore the balancing act of unlocking your inner potential while navigating life's chaos. I'm Stacy Yardley, your host.

A former circus showgirl turned transformational life coach. If you're juggling multiple roles or responsibilities and feeling like life is a circus, you are in the right place. Join me each week for captivating tales from my circus days and insights on realizing your dreams. Whether you're an entrepreneur, business owner, or an aspiring leader, this podcast is your guide to self mastery. So grab your top hat and let's step into the greatest show of all, the circus of life. Ready to embark on this transformative journey together? Let's begin. From the start of my time in the circus, I was told to lose weight to meet arbitrary standards set by the men in charge. Weekly weigh-ins on uneven scales, determined if we were in the clear or if we'd be fined, docked from performing or even fired.

After months of pressure and drastic measures like running coliseum stairs in rubber pants and starvation diets, I still couldn't meet their demands and was docked from performing. Then I was told I needed to lose three pounds in three days in order to keep my job as a showgirl and finish out the few weeks that were remaining in the season. After three days, the moment of truth was upon me. As we arrived in Cedar Rapids, Iowa, an opening night was about to kick off in just a few hours. It was time to see if I'd done enough, and in my eyes, if I was enough. I recalled the events that unfolded and how I felt about it in my journal. I got up today around twelve noon, sat around listening to music for a while, ate a piece of toast and drank some diuretic tea and decided to head to work about 1:15 pm so I'd have plenty of time to take a shower. Before I got weighed, I went into our bathroom and used that scale, which is off by about four pounds, I think, and it said 135.

But I was still very nervous about weighing in. I was on pins and needles, and my stomach turned every minute I thought about it. So I got to the building and read some mail from Lisa, and it made me sad. She reminisced about the good old days. I went to go see Philip, the performance director, after my shower, and he told me, look, I'm a little busy now. Can you come back later? Say after doors? Come back after 03:00 okay, I said. He seemed very stressed, so I decided not to put my makeup or my tights on, just in case. I thought to myself, I was so afraid I hadn't lost the three pounds, though I was almost positive that I did.

I went to a phone and called my mom to tell her I was scared. I told her the story of what had happened on Saturday and how I was docked, but I couldn't get a hold of her on Sunday, so she told me not to worry about my job being at stake because they hadn't said anything in reference to being fired. She gave me support over the phone and told me not to worry. At about 245, I went back to the showgirl dressing room and waited until 03:00 p.m. when 03:00 came, I changed into a long t shirt and went to Phillip's office. He wasn't there, so I went to see if he was on the floor. He was. So I decided to stand and wait.

Then he came over. Smiles and hellos were exchanged, and we walked to his office. I said to him, is it okay if we just take the scale out there on the cement, just so the carpet doesn't throw it off, do you think? Well, no. You see, I'm not even going to let you get weighed in. I have a little letter here for you. He fumbled through some papers on the table. It's from Kenneth. Well, actually, Tim, but Kenneth is aware of it.

I took the paper and read it. This is what it said. Dear Stacy, in compliance with paragraph seven on page two of your contract, effective today, October 24, you are no longer employed with Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey circus. Enclosed is a check for all monies due you. Sincerely, Tim J. Holst. Tears instantly started flowing down my face, and I could hardly speak because of the lump in my throat. But I was able to say, all right.

And Philip tried to comfort me by saying, I want you to know this decision was strictly based on the reports sent out by Dana and I. On Saturday, Tim made the decision against my. Well, this isn't really based on my wishes. I'm sorry. Yeah. Okay. I walked out and into the dressing room and couldn't help but start sobbing. I showed my friend Tanya the letter and she asked.

You didn't lose the weight? No. He didn't even give me a chance. So they fired you then? All the girls were outraged when they heard this. No one knew why. No one understands why. So I collected all my stuff and went out to call my mom. And she was really upset at what happened and wanted to know if they would pay for my ticket to go home. I got off the phone with her and went back to Phillip's office.

I asked him if they would pay for me or to help me pay. He said he didn't think so, but I asked him to check anyway. I stood outside his office waiting and Edelyn, the lead showgirl, came up to me and said, can I talk to you for a second? Sure. I said, go ahead. I just want you to know I'm sorry. And I really. Whatever you may think, I really had nothing to do with this. They told me this morning I had no idea this was going to happen.

Okay? Yeah, all right. Really, Stacy? Fine. Okay. I believe you. Okay. I was on the brink of tears again, so she walked away. Then Brian Zieger, the controller, came up and said, I can't talk now, but I want to talk later. And I want you to know I'm sorry this happened.

I'm really sorry. Yeah, I said, I mean, what the hell could I say? I just lost my job. What felt like the beginning of a career. So I sat there still waiting and noticed Tina Gunther's daughter and Eddie walking in my direction. I looked at them and they could both tell that something was definitely wrong. My eyes were completely bloodshot red. So Tina walked over to the gable dressing room and signaled with her finger and said, come here. I walked over and we went inside and she said, now what's the matter? I hate to see you girls cry.

I said, I got fired. What? Why? I handed her my letter and said, it's because of my weight. We talked about it and I told her how I weighed in at 138 last week. How the scale was on a piece of wood on a carpet floor. How I had three days of starving in tea and they didn't even let me weigh in. They just fired me. I told her how upset I was because I had already bought my ticket to go home later, she gave me a hug when she found out and said, this was stupid and she was sorry. So then Gunther came in and she told him in German.

He said, stupid. Then she started talking to him again in German and said, I'm going to talk in German for a minute. Okay, babe? She told him all that I had told her and said a couple of other names of women on the show who were a little bit heavier than me, or at least they appeared to be. I could pick those words out. Gunther sat down and told me how this isn't right and how he's going to help me. He said that I could stay until Rosemont, Illinois. If they say no, then come to him. He said that he will pay for me to go home and they will get me to the airport.

He said not to worry and if I need anything, I should come to him. I couldn't believe this was happening to me. Every time I would think about it, my stomach ached and my throat got a lump. And I fought back tears, only succeeding a few times. So I left the Gables dressing room and went to see Philip again and asked, so what did he say? No. He said, no. Okay, thanks. So I left and called my mom again.

And she said that she'd see what she could do about the tickets. But I may be able to get another ticket for about $180 more. So I got off the phone with her and told her I'd call her tomorrow. I hung out in the wardrobe area and told a few of my friends what happened. I walked up to my friend Paul, one of the skiers, and showed him the letter. He read it and looked at me and said, I'm so sorry, Stac. He put his arms out and gave me a big hug. I broke down and just cried in his arms.

I felt so helpless. It was humiliating. Anyway, I hung out in the ladies wardrobe and decided that after the show, I would weigh myself, and then I would call Tim and Kenneth to tell them about this. I'm thinking that maybe Tim thinks I'm one of the other girls that he had me confused with during contract negotiations. So the show ended, and I went back to the dressing room, prepared to be kicked out anytime because it's the rules. And I asked Tanya to go get the scale for me, and I put it down on the cement floor. I pushed on it and it wouldn't go to zero. It went to three.

I pushed on it again, and it went to five, then three, then four, then five. So I said, screw it. I'll get on and subtract five pounds for what it says. Another one of the dancers was right there. And I got on and it said, 135. I subtract that five pounds, and I'm 130. How the hell could I lose eight pounds in three days? It almost sounds crazy. So I was mad at this, and I decided to take the scale to Philip to prove it.

He was outside the dressing room eating a piece of pizza. I said, philip, can I see you for a minute? Can I talk to you? He said, yeah. Okay. We walked out into the backstage area, and he said, what is it? I pulled the scale out from behind my back and started to say. I just wanted to. Stacy, come on. Is this really necessary? The decision has been made. Do you need to make it more trouble? Don't do this to yourself.

I said, fine. Forget it. I picked up the scale and I started to walk away. He said, well, what? What did you want? No, no, forget it. Just forget it. I walked into the dressing room really upset, put the scale down, and went to call Tim and Kenneth. Neither were home or in the office, but I left a message on Tim's machine telling him I'd call him tomorrow. So I got off the phone and I talked to a friend and told him I should go before they kick me out.

Sure enough, I went to the dressing room to get my stuff, and Adeline says, stacy, can I talk to you for a minute outside? I follow her back out into the hallway backstage, and she said, I don't know how to tell you this, and I hate to tell you, but I know I'm kicked out, right? Yes. I'm sorry. I walked away and then turned around and said, what about this next week? Can I come in and take showers? Yes. Philip said that you can come, but only when the girls aren't here, not during the show. You have to take it and then leave. Yeah, all right. Thanks. So I walked in and picked up my stuff and walked out.

On the way out, I stopped and talked to Cindy, Larry and Paul. Then Dana, the assistant performance director, walked up and said, uh, Stacy. I interrupted. Yeah, I know. Adelen already told me. Get out. I'm going. Yeah.

He said, now, please. So I told them goodbye, and I started to leave, my eyes filled with tears. My friend Beto walked me out, and he hugged me twice. And he told me what a lot of people have. If I can do anything, let me know. He said, if you need money, tell me. Okay? Yeah, okay. Thank you.

He hugged me again and I walked away. I walked home to the train, crying most of the way. I just don't understand why they did this to me. Nobody does. People say they are outraged at this whole thing or they say how sorry they are. Yeah, maybe. But still, that doesn't give me any answers. What am I going to tell my friends? Hi, I'm home early.

I got fired for being fat. I'll understand if you don't want me either. I'm so tired. Tired of life giving me a bad hand. What have I done so bad to deserve so much shit? I just don't get it. I really don't get it. Here I was, in the middle of Iowa, over 1500 miles from home and I had just been fired for all intents and purposes what appeared to be for not meeting weight standards. This blew everyone's minds, including my own because looking at me, I looked great.

My costumes never needed to be altered due to an expanding waistline. However, some girls did. But they weren't under the pressure that I was because the scale apparently wasn't going up for them like it was for me. I also carried my weight in my hips and my legs, not in my torso. That was long and lean. Nevertheless, I couldn't go down without a fight. I wanted to see if I could convince them to change their minds and allow me to stay on for the remaining few weeks we had left. I continued to document in my journal what was happening in real time the following day.

I called Tim Holtz today and what didn't surprise me a bit was that he couldn't give a shit about what I had to say. I told him I think he made a big mistake and that I think he needs to reevaluate the way in which they weigh the girls and the way they went about this, I feel, was very unfair and wrong. It really got me nowhere calling him. But it gave me satisfaction knowing I was able to tell him how I felt and I stayed in control. I talked to Phillip today and he told me that the scale is five pounds under which I think is a crock of shit. I asked about my paycheck and they told me that I got paid. I walked in to fill in Dana’s office around 03:00 p.m. and I asked Dana, is Philip here? No.

What do you need? Well, I was wondering about my paycheck. I mean, yesterday the letter said, I get all monies doomed to me and I didn't get anything. He said, did you get paid on Friday? Well, yeah. I said, then you got paid. That's it. What do you mean? I mean, I worked on Saturday, so I don't get paid for at least that you did. The payroll is up through Sunday. Oh, so I don't get any more money? No.

Okay, well, when will Philip be here? Anytime. It's doors. Fine. Thanks. I left his office pissed. I then saw Philip and asked him about it, and he gave me the same answer. I didn't know what to say. Even though I wasn't receiving any more paychecks, they would make an exception and allow me to stay on the train until we got to the next town of Rockford, Illinois, where I could then fly home from Chicago.

I spent the next several days processing it all and prepared myself mentally to go home. The initial shock began to wear off and the anger turned to sadness. Before we left Cedar Rapids, I attended the Sunday night show and journaled about it. I went to the arena today and I watched the 05:00 show tonight. It was really weird just sitting there in the audience watching what I would normally be a part of. And it made me sad in a way, but I was okay. I enjoyed some parts of it a lot. Finale was great.

And during opening, Eric, the ringmaster, and Spike, one of the clowns, came up to me and I kissed Spike on the cheek and he kissed me. I also kissed Eric on the cheek. It was cool. A lot of the acts waved to me and people blew kisses to me. It really made me feel good, like I was important. At the end of finale, Eric waved and told people, hey, look, there's Stacy. And at the very end, he walked off, turned and looked at me and said, come back. I smiled, even though it made me a little sad that I wasn't performing anymore.

At that point, I knew I needed to start focusing on moving on. I was ready to go home. Nevertheless, I had to wait several more days and I was getting impatient to receive my airline ticket and I just wanted to move on. I sure hope everything is normal when I go home. I really hope they are. Matt is taking me to the post office in the morning. I sure hope my tickets come in the mail tomorrow and I get them Wednesday. Paul and Kristen told me, don't rush it.

You'll be home soon enough. Maybe I shouldn't, but I just want to get my life together again. My tickets finally arrived and after ten days since being fired, it was time to say my final goodbyes before leaving to go home. And I wrote about it in my journal. Yay. I got my tickets in the mail. I was just so sick and tired of sitting around waiting. So I'm flying out at 07:40 a.m.

and as of 12:11 p.m. i'll be in San Diego. Home sweet home. I'm so stoked. They got all the new showgirls and clowns. I didn't get to see any of the new girls, though none were around today. I did see the man himself, Tim Holst. I knew he'd be there, but I was going to see if I could avoid him.

I saw him once by the band when I got off the phone. But I walked past him and he didn't even see me. I said goodbye to people the last 15 minutes I was there. I started to cry, too. As soon as I stuck out my hand to shake Philip's hand, he pulled me close, kissed me on the cheek, and said, we're going to miss you. Good luck, kiddo. And he hugged me. I didn't bawl, but tears were flowing.

I walked past Eric the ringmaster's office, and he hugged me a big goodbye. And I walked out and saw Joe and hugged him goodbye. And I saw Miguel and Franco and called, hey, come here. Give me a hug. I'm leaving. You're leaving? Yeah, in the morning. So I won't see you again. Goodbye.

I was really crying now, talking as I wiped away the tears, Franco also said goodbye. I'll miss you, but I'll see you in three years. Yeah, we'll see you in three years, Miguel said. He was just a boy. Oh, and hey, he continued. You better do what you promised. What's that? I said, sniffling and wiping away my tears. You better write me.

I will. I promise. If you write back. Will you? Yeah, he said. Send me your address. Well, take it easy. Okay, guys? And, hey, I looked at McGill. Keep up the good work.

You're great. Okay? Yeah, he said. Good. I'm going to miss him. I'm going to miss a lot of people. Even though I knew I was going to leave anyway, it was hard to leave under the conditions of being let go. And saying goodbye is something I've never been good at. These people had become my circus family, my community.

We shared a common bond, living and working together intimately, in some cases, day in and day out. For the past year, it was a bittersweet goodbye. The next morning, I documented my final entry in my journal and reflected on the entire journey. Well, I'm on the plane. Seat 38 J. In 15 minutes, I'll be on my way home. It's so hard to believe I didn't cry when I said goodbye to Tanya and Dave. I'm surprised I'm too happy, I guess.

Anyway, after all that's happened, I must say it was a good experience, and I'm glad I had the opportunity. So wraps up my circus career now onto bigger and better things. During my time in the circus, I had been through so much. It was my entry point into adult life and the real world. At just 18 years old, that year had a lasting impact on me in so many ways. I experienced realizing a dream and the heartbreak, illness, victories, and defeats that came with it. But there's another story I haven't told yet. The day I was painted into a mural.

A moment where I would be forever immortalized, even after being fired. But that's a story for another time. Looking back while the sting of being fired was real, what really stands out to me now isn't the heartbreak. It's the people, the friends, colleagues, and community around me who reminded me I wasn't alone and that my worth wasn't tied to this one job or this one moment of failure. They helped me see the bigger picture even when I couldn't see it myself. They showed me that even when things are falling apart, hope is still something we can choose. So here's what I've learned and what I want to share with you today. When life gets hard, the most powerful thing we can do is lean into our community.

I know it's tempting to withdraw when everything feels like it's falling apart, but that's when we need support the most. Here are three key lessons that I've taken away from this one experience. First, reach out for support. Don't wait until you feel strong again. The beauty of community is that we don't have to carry the weight of our pain alone. Sometimes healing begins just by letting someone else listen. It's easy to isolate when we feel like we've hit rock bottom. But reaching out is where the healing starts.

Whether it's a close friend, a family member, or even someone from an online community, sharing our struggles lets people show up for us. Next is embracing empathy. Community isn't just about receiving support, it's about giving it, too. When we open ourselves up to empathy, we allow others to walk alongside us. And in doing so, we create a safe space for them to do the same. Empathy isn't about fixing, it's about understanding. By showing up for others, we create this beautiful cycle of care. We don't need to have all the answers.

Sometimes the most healing thing we can offer is empathy, just walking alongside someone else in their journey. And third is choosing hope, the disappointment and the heartbreak. They're real and they matter. But we can't live there. We have to acknowledge them, then shift our focus to the love and support around us. We have to choose hope, even when it feels difficult, because that's what will carry us forward. For years. I let this moment of being fired define me.

I let the corporate giant that let me go have the final word on my value. But now I see things differently. It's not about them. It's about the people who stood by me through it, the friends who reminded me of my value, and the lessons I learned along the way. It's about reclaiming my story and choosing to see the love instead of just the loss. And as I sit here today sharing the story with you, you're now a part of that healing journey, too. I want to take a moment to thank you, yes, you. For being here and listening.

Your presence here is a part of my healing process, more than you might know. By tuning in and sharing this space with me, you've become part of this community of support and healing energy. We're in this together, and that means so much to me. And I want to be that for you as well. If you're going through something, if you've experienced a setback, or if you just need someone to listen, reach out to me. I'm here. This isn't just a podcast, it's a community, and I want you to feel that. And speaking of community, I'm so excited to invite you to a special event I've put together just for you.

Center ring conversations, a backstage pass to life as a circus. I'm pretty excited about this. This is going to be a free live zoom meet and greet with me, where we'll have a chance to connect in real time, talk about all that unfolded in the podcast over the past five months, and dive even deeper into the stories and lessons I've shared. If you've got questions, bring them, because it's going to be a live q and a that you can ask me anything, whether it's about the podcast self mastery, or even stories I haven't shared yet. And yes, you can even ask me about some details I may not have disclosed. I'd love to have you there, and if you're interested, you can find the link to register in the show notes. It's going to be a space for us to come together as a community, share your thoughts about the podcast and the stories you heard, and support one another in this journey. So here's what I want to leave you with today.

Take a moment to reflect on your own life. Who's been there for you during the tough times? What support have you leaned on? And if you've been keeping your struggles to yourself, maybe now is a good time to reach out to someone and focus on the love and the support and the hope around you. Setbacks are real, but they don't define us. What matters is how we rise and who we rise with. Speaking of rising, now feels like a really good time to share one of my favorite pieces of work by Brene Brown. It's something that really sums up what this journey has been about for me. It comes from her book rising strong, and it's called the Manifesto of the Brave and brokenhearted. There's no greater threat to the critics and cynics and fearmongers than those of us who are willing to fall because we've learned how to rise with skinned knees and bruised hearts.

We choose owning our stories of struggle over hiding, over hustling, over pretending. When we deny our stories, they define us. When we run from struggle, we are never free. So we turn towards truth and look it in the eye. We will not be characters in our stories, not villains, not victims, not even heroes. We are the author of our lives. We write our own daring endings. We craft love from heartbreak, compassion from shame, grace from disappointment, courage from failure.

Showing up is our power. Story is our way home. Truth is our song. We are the brave and broken hearted. We are rising strong. In closing, thank you for being a part of this community, for sharing in my healing journey, and for choosing hope with me today. I look forward to seeing you soon, for centering conversations, so don't forget to register. Until next time, keep leaning into love and support around you, and remember, you're never alone and the circus we call life.

Thank you for joining me on this episode of life as a circus. So let's step into self mastery. I hope you found inspiration and valuable insights to carry with you on your journey. If you enjoyed today's episode, please share it with a friend and subscribe or follow wherever you're listening. Remember, in the circus of life, the greatest show is the one you create for yourself. Until next time, keep embracing your dreams and stepping into self mastery. Take care and I'll see you next Tuesday.