Thoughts.

Yesterday's advanced class was...something.
It wasn't bad, it was just super crowded (we were only missing one person. That never happens.) and there were some complex things given to us, and that's when Ms. Munro thought it would be a great time to watch us all. I feel this innate pressure to prove myself, and having her watching made me so nervous. I felt like it was just screaming that I didn't belong there.
I shook it off. It is what it is.

The good thing about classes this week, is that they are challenging me and really helping me push out of my comfort zone and work the areas that I really need help in. So that's been nice.

Downside, the Gaynor's flopped so I'm back to square one.
Although, I believe the main root of my problem is the lack of strength in my hips (I struggle to maintain turnout on one leg) and the fact that I've been sick for so long, hesitating on engaging my core has sadly become second nature. Learning to push out of that, while not pushing too hard--it's a struggle.

After class, I was able to go in the small studio with Adrienne and show her what we learned in Swan rehearsal Saturday so she'd be ready this weekend. She picked it up pretty well, which is great. She took pictures of my notes after so that way if she forgot something, she could reference it.
When I got home, I was trying to mentally prepare myself for not dancing that part this weekend. To open my mind to the fact that I'd be at a different place in line, a different place in formations, following different people and at some points doing different steps. Thinking about it beforehand helps me remain calm and open in the situation itself.
As I did, I thought about who all I know will be out and has asked me to learn their part. Abarrane will be late this weekend, which is good cause she's opposite Adrienne. The next weekend, Jessica is out, which isn't too far from what I've learned since she's next to Adrienne in formations. She said she'd teach me their different part this Saturday. Lauren will be out for drill team two weeks, so I need to learn her part as well, but she isn't too too different either, since she's in that same last section.

I realized after this month, covering just these people, I'll know every part. At least for what we've learned so far.

How cool is that?
All Adrienne has to concern herself with is her part; what I've shown her and what she'll learn moving forward. She won't learn what I learn; at least she isn't required to.

So even though I may learn all of this and not get to dance the role, it's pretty cool that I will essentially know this part better than anyone else. And should the need arise, be there to step in in a heartbeat.

Really living.

I've been thinking about Swan Lake.
Doing little conditioning things that are actually feasible for me and aren't so overwhelming that I avoid them. Making certain choices that will help me in the long run. Releve-ing at work while I prep for tax season.
My goal is to be a Swan.
Not some watered down version of a Swan, but a real one.
I was a little anxious thinking about it, because I didn't know if this was even a logical goal. What if it's just the older girls, ya know? I know I'm not at their level yet. I'm on my way, but these things take time.

I was thinking about it in church this morning. About dance and why I do it and what it does for me.
I thought about how much easier life would be without the dance schedule. I immediately thought of how sad I would be not having said schedule. Dance makes me happy, it makes me feel alive.
Then I thought of how I've seemed to have more bad days than good lately. I thought of how reasonably it has been my body holding me back in one way or another. I thought of all the times I've panicked. I thought of the defeat I've felt.
I thought of Nutcracker, and how there were times I felt like I was just falling short. That I just barely wasn't good enough for what my heart wanted. That the mark was just out of reach.
Then I thought of that last Sunday show; how everything seemed to align for me perfectly. I thought of how alive I felt. I didn't think of how bad my feet hurt that day, or the fact that I was so sad the show was over, or my shoe falling off. I thought of how Rat Queen went the best it ever has. How I hit all the corrections Ms. Munro gave me and was able to grab the cannon ball in a stealth way to get it out of everyone's way. I thought of Flowers and how I hit all the marks on that as well. I thought of Finale, and hitting the timing perfectly with the conductor. I thought of how I felt standing there, looking into the audience, the most alive I've ever felt.
And I wondered what the difference was. What made that day special? Was it the cape I got to wear? Or was it what having the cape made me feel?
That there was no pressure. That cape reminded me of how fun Nutcracker can be. That it's not just about doing a series of moves and hoping not to fall, but it's more than that. It's about coming alive in ways that makes the audience feel something. Sure it's awesome if you can do 32 fouette's en pointe, but ya know what? That's nothing if there's no heart behind it. The difference is clear. You can be the most technical dancer with absolutely perfectly gorgeous lines, but if you're hearts not in it, it falls flat.
(This is how it is for life in general, as well. Are you just passing the days, or are you truly living?)

As I was standing there, on the front row, God reminded me of how far I've come. He reminded me of what I felt when the idea of dancing ballet was just a longing--an unreachable goal. He reminded me of how much I've accomplished in such a short amount of time. Then He asked me, "By whose standards are you falling short?"
Oof.
It was then I realized that it was only by my standards that I wasn't hitting the mark.
I know I'm never gonna be prima ballerina or anything remotely close. Even if my body could handle it, chances are life will cause me to back away from ballet as I know it now--it already has. The mark should always simply be to do the best I can and make the most of every day I get to dance. By all means, I shouldn't even be able to. I've dodged many-a-bullet with how accident prone I seem to be, yet I can still dance.
God also reminded me of what fuels my passion--what the heart is behind my dancing. It's not about gaining anything, it's not about hitting a certain mark, it's all about shining His light in my life. It's about the freedom I feel which allows me to move and live and breathe. It's not about me.

So whatever happens with auditions, whether I suck or succeed, I will be content in being able to participate at all. I will be happy because I am doing the very thing I love that seemed impossible not too long ago. I will remember what I felt before this was my reality.
I'll channel those moments I find myself realizing that these are my pointe shoes and I dance in them. That this isn't a dream or a fabricated, colorful mis-telling I'm trying to pass off as true. This is reality. This is me. This is what I get to do.

How freaking cool is that?

"Why do I even do this?"

Yesterday was rough.
It seemed like I found myself saying "I can't" not because I didn't want to try, but because my body physically wouldn't allow me to do the things. The sentence ended with "yet" most of the time, but still it started to feel very harrowing.
These were things I needed to be working on, things I need to improve on, and I couldn't do them because it would shoot pain into my knee, or it's not strong enough yet.

I felt like a failure.
It was very overwhelming.
Worst of all, I felt exposed. My teacher knew and I couldn't just blend in and pretend I could do all these things.
I felt defeated.

But that's not what I really want to write about today.

Work has been rough, to say I'm over it is an understatement, but I'm trying to keep a positive attitude towards it since I'm there and I need it right now. I remind myself it isn't forever and that for now I have to make the most of it. That "this too shall pass" and all that other good stuff.
I was thinking about ballet, and how I'm in the studio five days a week now. I thought of how dancing makes me feel and the place I've ended up in and how wonderful it is.
I thought about the seemingly-spontaneous decision I made almost 4 years ago to pursue this childhood dream of mine of dancing en pointe. I thought of my first class and how terrified I was to even look into classes, let alone take them. I thought of those first months and panicking in the corner at not being able to do seemingly simple things.

I thought about my first performance.
How overwhelmed I was at some of the steps, and how I would spend hours at home going over it until I had it. How I would search the internet for tips and tricks and explanations. How my parents didn't want to come and it made me really sad.

I thought about my first recital. How I sat out recital my first year there, and was excited about it my second year there. I thought of the corrections my teacher gave me there that are second nature now. I thought of the photo day and all the people I'm friends with now. I thought of how my parents complained about seeing me dance that time too, especially about the parking and not having good seats cause they left too late like it was my fault.

I thought of my second holiday showcase. How I got to help with the babies and it was madness. I thought of how I decided then to dance for myself and no one else and if my parents or anyone else didn't want to come I wouldn't make them because it just makes me feel guilty for not being understanding of them not wanting to come or whatever. I thought of how I had to rush home after work to change to get to the studio in time. How I was always perpetually early to beat traffic so they started having me assist the baby ballet/tap classes.

I thought of Bailando and getting to take pictures and really committing to this.

I thought of my first pair of convertible tights.

I thought of asking my dance teacher if getting en pointe by the next year was feasible and her being uncertain.

I thought of the next year and how I was given the permission form two weeks before my 25th birthday (which was my bucket list goal--before 25.)

I thought of little arms around my neck as I took a group picture with my class I helped teach.

I thought of how my family didn't come to my last dance recital at my old studio.

I thought of my studio shutting down.

I thought of how harrowing it was to find a new studio. How scary it was. How no one spoke to me when I was there so I would bring a book and pretend to be invisible as to not draw attention to myself. I thought of how out of my depth I felt and that they must be judging me in class. That they probably thought I should be better than I am and that I was a joke. How I felt I have to work harder to prove myself since I "don't look like a dancer." I thought of how I felt when I saw dancers who were good and not stick thin, that I could do it, too.

I thought of watching Nutcracker by myself because no one would go with me and my friends kinda sucked then but tried to make me feel like I was the sucky one (anyway) and how certain dancers would stand out to me.

I thought of my first Nutcracker auditions, and how the one friend I knew encouraged me. How I had to audition with the younger kids cause I knew my pointe was next-to-nothing and there's no way I could keep up with the older group, even though I seemed to have the director fooled.

I thought of the disappointment in casting, but how I was going to make the most of it. How I wasn't going to let other people make me feel like I was lesser for my casting. How I wouldn't let my family's comments on how I'm "only in the show for a minute and a half" bother me and not pressure them into coming to see me, even though it'd be my first performance en pointe.

I thought of how I rolled my ankle at auditions and how I thought of giving up all together since I couldn't find good shoes. That it must be me. How I won a pointe shoe fitting contest through Capezio that changed everything.

I thought of my first Nutcracker season, and being sad it was over.

I thought of Oz and auditioning with 5s and wanting to quit again and how the entire show turned around for me. How I became friends with all these girls and how the dancers that stood out to me when I watched Nutcracker alone were now my friends and some of my biggest encouragers.

I thought of my first recital en pointe. How my parents came, got free parking, and afterwards told me, "you looked like a real ballerina up there!"

I thought of where I am now. How I'm at the studio 5 days a week without rehearsals. How Nutcracker casting is pending and I have no idea how I'll be able to pull it off. I thought of the mom in the studio yesterday that told me, "If your parents ever don't want you, I do." I thought of the support that I get and how people believe in me. How people like me. And how weird and wonderful it all is.


And in all of this, I thought of what my life would be like if I had never taken that first step. If I had never faced the fear of the unknown and taken that first class. If I had given up all those times before. If I wouldn't have pushed through.
I would leave work, and go home, and be by myself and probably miserable. I wouldn't have near as many friends. I'd feel out of place since most the friends in my life are in different stages. How I would have nothing to take away the sting of how terrible work makes me feel. Nothing to strive for. Nothing to achieve. Nothing to feel accomplished with. Nothing to dedicate myself to. It would be like walking around sick with no medication to help.

Dance is my medication for the pain life gives me.
Dance is the sanity in my crazy world.
Dance is the clarity in a place that doesn't make sense.
Dance is the comfort in my life of tragedy.
Dance is my friend when I'm alone.

What would my life be without dance?
Shallow. Limited. Insecure. Lonely. Sad.

Ballet has taught me, and helped me grow as a person. It has lead me to meeting wonderful people and having experiences I carry in my heart always. Ballet gives expression to the depths of me no one knows.

People in my life, those reading this, those who don't even know about it--they don't know the full me. The tragedy, the pain, the difficult things I've gone through. They see me in the after. They see me in my element, in the happiest state of being. Some of them know of hardships I have faced, and instead of treating me like a freak or some celebrity or something stupid, they walk beside me.

Ballet has given me things I could never replace or even known to have hoped for.

So on days like yesterday when everything feels overwhelming, and I find that thought in the back of my mind coming to surface of, "Why do I even do this? I'm never going to get past this. Who am I kidding?" I remember all the beautiful things the last (almost) four years has given me.

And I smile.
And say, "Try it one more time."

It'll all work out. It may not look the way I want it to, but it'll solve itself. I'll figure something out and I'll keep fighting.