"When I mess up on something, I give up."

Yesterday one of the girls admitted something to me after class.
"When I mess up on something, I find myself just giving up. Like if I can't get those jete's, then I just stop trying."
She continued to tell me about getting so angry at herself. It completely defeats her.

I let her in on the secrets of how I escape this, even though they aren't really secrets. Still, it took me a few years to learn these things, and they have helped me tremendously.

• You only go as far as where you give up.
  I don't remember where I first heard this concept, but it's stuck with me. Even when I felt completely defeated, I refused to let myself walk out of the studio, and I did my best to at least attempt whatever it was (unless I knew it was dangerously out of reach, but that is rare. Usually it's fear.)
  
• Failure is how you learn to fly
  It's hard to try your hardest and it not be good enough, especially in ballet. We are some of the biggest perfectionists out there, and are really good at tearing ourselves apart. We have to be in order to go anywhere. But there is a fine line between criticism and constructive criticism. (if you haven't figured it out, it's the "constructive" bit.) You want to look at your progress as a teaching tool, not as a gauge of failure. It's not about being better than anyone but yourself. If we aren't allowed the room to be less than perfect in class, then what's the point in coming? We are all in the process of learning. We are striving for perfection, but we are not expected to be perfect. We have to try things before we can succeed in anything. I find it helps to watch kids attempt things; to mimic what they see the older dancers doing. They don't look  perfect by a long shot, but they get the feel for it and before you know it you see them again and they have it down better than you. Because, wouldn't you know, they didn't give up.
  
• Leave yourself room for your humanity
  Even the greatest dancer has struggled. Ballet isn't great because the people are born great, it's because they strive for greatness. Sure, some people are born with genetics that give them a bit up an upper hand, but that's the exception, not the rule. If it were the rule, I would be hopeless.
  But I'm not hopeless. Neither are you.
  
• Watch the better dancers, pick out their flaws.
  She responded to this with, "That's mean!" But then I explained.
  I don't pick out their flaws to judge them, I pick out there flaws to judge myself. I noticed about this time last year that if you stared at a professional dancer's feet, they weren't always completely stable. Makes sense, right? Since she's balancing her entire weight on two toes for extended periods of time. But we get this image in our head that they are flawless, when the truth is the opposite. That just means they're doing something right, because we are supposed to appear flawless, even if we aren't. If I see a professional, or a more advanced dancer struggling to hold their balance, I think, "that's what I do!" and I see that if she can do it, so can I. Does that make sense?
  
• If you're not confident, go with someone better than you.
  I kinda learned this at my old studio, but in a different way. She used to tell us if we weren't sure of the step to go with someone who is so you can watch them. But now if I'm not sure of a step, I go with someone better than me because all those other people who are waiting for their turn, who are watching to get the step better in their brains before they go, they're watching the good dancer. They may watch you, but chances are their eyes go to the super advanced dancer to see the step more clearly. This goes for groupings in center, too. If I'm unsure I try and go first, near someone I can see. chances are the other dancers are also unsure and they will want to watch someone who is sure. If that's not you, they won't watch you. Pressure's off. People tend to think I'm really confident in my dancing when really I'm not. It just appears that way because of these tricks. And no one seeing my struggles until I'm confident enough to be seen. (the teachers still see me, so I still get my corrections, though. So that's good.)
  
• Realize dancers are typically selfish
  And not in a jerk-selfish way. They want to better themselves, so chances are they aren't watching you dance to pick you apart, but rather to pick themselves apart. I used to be really intimidated to be in a class with good dancers, because I was so afraid of their opinion. As I got to know them, I realized that no one really noticed what I did about myself. They saw me as a good dancer and picked themselves apart, not me. They aren't out to get you, they don't think any less of you.
  
• Effort is more important than talent.
  What I mean by this is, I'm not exceptionally talented in dance. I know I have a long way to go. But one thing I do have an advantage of is coming from a theatre background. I can play the part.
  Take Crows for instance. I haven't taken a jazz class in 7 years, but no one knew that. Why? Because my face told otherwise. My face showed confidence, so everyone believed it, even if I was struggling with the step. If you don't show that you're insecure in your dance, then no one will notice. And if for some reason someone catches it, they tend to be way more forgiving and understanding. If you put forth effort, it shows that you're willing to work towards becoming better than where you are currently. Just this week I saw girls from the III's dance as well as V's, but their faces made them look so miserable. That's what set them apart, not their dancing. It shows the potential for success. It inspires the people who watch you, and that's what we're really out there to do. To make the audience feel something.
  
• Refocus your anger
  Instead of going home and taking it out on yourself, refocus it on bettering yourself. This doesn't happen over night, but it's a good use of that angry energy. Take your anger and pick apart what you did wrong. Then work on figuring out why you did that wrong and how to fix it. Focus on fixing your mistakes rather than being angry that you made one. Be proactive in your anger. Also,
  
• Enlist someone you trustThis takes a bit of vulnerability, but it is so worth it. Find someone you trust and ask them to watch you. For me, this is typically Andie and Annika. I know I can go to them and have them watch me do whatever step I'm working on. They'll see it and pick out what it is that I can't see (usually turns) that is making me falter. They'll tell me in a kind and beneficial way, not in a way that tears me down or belittles me. (I think this is what we are generally afraid of. But we know friends won't hurt us, and if they do they shouldn't be your friend.) Ultimately they want to see me succeed, and if they can help me to success, I know they will. Ps. This is how I got the pirouette down for Nutcracker. That thing was really difficult, but Andie watched me and pointed out that I dipped my leading arm instead of staying straight and locked. A few tries later and I had it down. Like jumping off the diving board into an adults arms. They won't let you fall or tell you anything to make you drown.
  
• No one is born perfect.
  In this case, I used Annika; someone I've seen rise to greatness, and someone they only know as great. I told them how two years ago when she first came in our class, she was as good as Ileana--someone who has great potential and you know will be good, but still has some things to learn and perfect. Last year, she was Lauren--someone that you looked at and saw that she had talent, and you were excited to see where she would go, but still is on the journey to get there.
  This year, she's Annika--the mirliton right out the gate. The understudy to a principal role. The seeming prodigy who seemingly has shaken the studio in the best way possible.
  She didn't get there over night; it took a lot of work. But it pays off.
  
• Do what you love.
  Remind yourself of why you come to class everyday. What is it about dance that makes you love it? Show that in your dancing, even if you're still struggling. My friend Annabelle is one of the greatest examples of this. She has no fear when she dances, it makes her come alive. So what if she wasn't perfectly turned out that time? So what if she messed up the arm in the first run through? So what if she mixed it up that last time? The teacher may see it, but they know that you know you missed it and that you'll correct it next time. If it becomes a pattern, then they'll say something. Allow yourself the room to feel free. 

This is all I do, what I remind myself of, and I've had people look at me like I'm a better dancer than I actually am. It's about being confident in yourself, which is sometimes hard to figure out how to do.

This doesn't mean that you're always so happy with how you did that class and things go perfectly--that's impossible. It means that you let yourself actually enjoy what you're doing and allow yourself the room to grow and improve. This is how you will excel. This is how you will succeed.

Ps. Ms. Alex complimented me in class yesterday. I usually struggle to keep my knees straight, especially at the barre. Apparently my hip being jacked up has caused me to think about this more, in turn making me engage all the muscles I need to and--tadaaaaa--straighten my knees.
It made me feel really good :)

progress

It feels really good when you're in a class with dancers more advanced than you and you are able to keep up.
Usually I struggle.
Usually I get the concept, but not the full combination.
Usually I mess up direction or can't even attempt the arms.

And, sure, there were a few times I messed up the arms or forgot to do the exact arms asked, but for the most part I kept up. I was able to pay attention not just to doing the step, but to the artistry of it. I was able to hold the balance and promenade without dropping the leg or falling out of it completely.
Granted, I was on flat shoes, and it would have been a bit more difficult en pointe, but I was able to do it in flats and work on the artistry rather than struggling with just getting through it on pointe. But even so, to know that I wouldn't have been way over my head on pointe either was a really nice fact.

I finally feel like I'm growing, and it's a really nice feeling.

It's been storming here all last night and today. I almost didn't make it to work and part of me wishes I would have come. (darn needing money.) But I think it's cleared up enough to still make today's class, so I am very excited about this. I had to miss last week because of my back, but I really want to be there.

Dance is the best thing in my life right now. This weekend left me in a state of euphoria, making coming back to reality really difficult. I can only hope that one day my life will be filled with things that leave me euphoric, and not things that shoot me down and stress me sick (especially when it can be avoidable. I get that life isn't perfect, I'm not asking for it to be. I'm just asking to not have to subject myself to pointless abuse.)

3 cheers for dance

Why do you dance?

There's this ongoing inner "struggle" of sorts over the gap between my skill level and my age.

For the most part, everything is okay.
But there are times when I just wish that I was better. That I had began earlier. That I could have been dancing all these years instead of just the past 3.5ish.
It can get overwhelming. Sometimes it feels pointless. Not that dancing for me isn't good, but that I don't add anything to the company. That I'm just the awkward adult that thankfully looks like she's in high school so it's not too weird putting her with younger kids.

It's disheartening to have these dreams of progressing through the years, just to have my body mess up because I'm older, or to realize that things could happen and I don't know how long I'll dance.
What if I get married and can't? What if I have a kid? What if I move? What if I break something? What if I throw out my back and mess it up for good?
Sure, all these things could happen and I could still be able to dance. But bad things seem to happen to me often, so my mind tends to try and prepare itself for the worst. Disappointment is rough.

Reality is that I may not get to dance long enough to improve enough to do everything I dream of doing, but that doesn't mean I should just give up or not give it my all.

And maybe that's the difference.
I'm not burned out on dancing. I'm not doing it because someone is making me. I don't have a million opportunities of things I would like to try or whatever like most school kids do. I'm not still trying to figure out what I like and what I don't and what might be nice or what I may or may not be good at.
I'm an adult, and I've mostly figured out what I enjoy and why and have pursued these things.
I'm dancing because I want to be here.
I also realize that everything could change tomorrow.
Just this weekend at rehearsals I found out a friend of mine who is a teen was diagnosed with stage III ovarian cancer.
Nothing is guaranteed.

I've journaled a lot over the years, and one thing that does for me is help me remember how people made me feel when certain things happened, or what I wish would have happened.
New school? I remember feeling beyond nervous, wishing someone would be kind and show me around. So when there was a new kid, what did I do?
Starting ballet for the first time? I remember shaking and feeling so insecure about where I was compared to the others. I remember no one talking to me and questioning why I was there. I also remember the girl in class who was the best coming to help me when I stood frozen in a corner.
What did I do when there was a new person after me? Introduced myself, learned their name, encouraged them after class. People would later ask me if I knew them before they came in. I didn't, but I was them once.

Now I find myself in a unique position.
I am a twenty-six-year-old girl who made it through the horrors of high school, the nerves of college, the difficulties of family, the complications of roommates, etc.
I remember being 12-15 and being nervous and wondering if people liked me or if I was annoying. I remember seeing the twenty-somethings and wishing I was important enough for them to say hi to me. I remember being afraid to risk things because of what people would think. And now I see that what goes on in our heads mostly never happens. More than likely, people aren't thinking you're annoying, they aren't hating you, they don't think you're unimportant, they won't think less of you for taking a risk.
I remember being 6-11 and thinking the older girls were the coolest things in the world. I remember watching what they do and wanting to do that, to be that. I remember feeling so cool if they put their arm around me, or called me by name, or hugged me, or waved, or smiled at me, or countless other things. I remember seeing what they did and trying to imitate it.
I remember being in high school. I remember being too sad to function. I remember zoning out in AP US History because I couldn't even find the energy to pay attention with all the darkness clouding my mind. I remember tearing up, drawing in my binder to try and keep the tears from falling. I remember dreading school, dreading tests, dreading report cards. I remember knowing I could do better but not being able to figure out how to be better because I was so depressed and no one would accept that because they were so used to me being happy.
I remember.

And here I am, surrounded by these kids.
Taking classes with them. Being cast along side them.
I'm not the twenty-six-year-old teacher, I'm the twenty-six-year-old-who-looks-fifteen classmate.
I'm not the one to be feared, I'm just another one of them.

I have a very unique position, but it's my choice whether I take it or not.
I don't have to say hi to them. I don't have to ask them how school is going, or if there dog is feeling better, or how their math test went, or when the drill team auditions are, or any number of other things going on in their life.
I don't have to tell them their arabesque is looking really good, or that their leotard looks nice on them, or that they completely nail their solo, or that they are a joy to watch during their part, or that they have a great bun that day, or countless other things.
I don't have to.
But I do.

Because not to long ago, I was nervous. Not too long ago, I didn't think I was good enough. Not too long ago, I thought everyone judged me by how my leotard fit. Not too long ago, I thought I was falling through the cracks, nothing important, what am I even doing here? Not to long ago I would have given anything for someone to say something encouraging to me, and if they ever did, I cherished it.

So although it was a little difficult to be cast as the cover for the Crows role next to all these kids younger than me, it was only difficult for half a second. Moreso, I was thrilled to be considered good enough to have that responsibility. (case and point: one of the covers has to do their role for at least one show. Good thing she's a hard worker!) And even though chances are I won't dance the part, there was a point when that wasn't certain, and Julie knew that if she needed me, she could throw me in and it would be okay. (She even said this, about me and the girl who gets to dance the role one of the shows, in front of everyone.)
I dance it, full out. I enjoy the moment, even if it won't matter. Because I'm having so much fun in this opportunity I didn't think I would even get and want to show them that they weren't wrong to trust me to cover the role.

Then this happens:

I was torn between, "What a nice thing for my friend to say!" and completely fangirling. 

My friend happens to also be the best dancer in the company. We are new friends, so I only really see her at rehearsals, but friends nonetheless. For her to say that how I danced made her want to be the role...I really can't think of a higher compliment.

It washed all my concerns away.

I am capable.

I am worth being here.

My efforts aren't pointless.

I'm not sucking as much as I thought.

I may never be a principal dancer, but that doesn't mean that my dancing is for nothing.

You don't have to be a principal dancer to inspire. 

This is why I like being in my level, even though it's not my age.

Because I can say something like this to the younger dancers. 

I may never be a principal, but they could be. And if it takes a few nice words to help them get there, I'm going to hold nothing back.

Center yourself.

Ms. Lori is just one of the greatest humans on the planet.
So forgive me if I talk about her too much.

In yesterday's class, Ms. Lori had us do a few combinations at the barre, then hold releve passe (or a couple different positions as well) and take a second to close our eyes while we held it, then open them to finish.
We did it, and it was weird. (I have this thing where if I close my eyes, I can be completely fine, but I'll start to second-guess my balance and throw myself off if I don't open them before too long. It was fun to challenge that.)

But she had a good pointe

She asked us if we felt different when we were on stage. The lights, the vastness of it, all the things that were different--did that make us nervous? Does it shake us up?
She wanted us to close our eyes. To find a way to center ourselves, no matter what is going on around us. That even if the world was shaking, we could still remain composed and not let it shake us.

Ms. Lori always has such great analogies and wisdom.
And the girls in this class really soak it up.
And it shows.

To say I'm grateful would be a vast understatement.

It could be worse.

This weekend had me laying flat on my back most of the time.
The pain in my back seemed to only be increasing, or at least remaining the same. Thankfully I didn't have rehearsals or any really strenuous activity scheduled, so I was able to stay in bed and edit pictures and crochet while watching movies that ripped my heart out followed by Parks and Rec to take the sting out (until I get to the season finale, at least.)

We had the V's class yesterday. I was a bit nervous to say anything to the teacher because she seems to be the most passive out of all the teachers I have. Not that she doesn't care, because I truly believe she does. I think she just has a different teaching style than most. I don't believe that I am wasting my time or anything by taking her class. I learn a lot and she will even correct me if I need it. This just isn't something she does as commonly as other teachers may. Sometimes, though, approaching her feels a little awkward. Maybe it's because she's closer to my age, I'm not sure, but I was nervous about saying something and looking stupid. (I really hate the feeling of looking stupid.)
She wasn't there, for some reason, so instead we had Ms. Munro. I was able to tell her daughter about what was going on before class which I was grateful for since I'm not sure if my appointment today will cause me to be late or not, but this was a good time to tell Ms. Munro as well and not feel awkward. I told her the brief synopsis of what was going on and she understood and I started class feeling good. There was a moment when she caught herself going to get onto me, but then remembered my arabesque could go higher but probably shouldn't right now.

My hip was hurting by the time class was over. At first I wasn't sure if it was actually hurting more or if I just noticed the pain more. I have this thing where once something is pointed out to me, I notice it. It has it's pros and cons, but since Thursday it has been a bit overwhelming. Mix that with (what I'm told is) a high pain tolerance, and things can get interesting. There are two ways I do know if a pain is something I should pay attention to. If it makes me tear up, or if it makes me groan. And not just groan out of complaint, but an actual involuntary response. (There's a difference. I know the difference. It's hard to explain.) Thursday was one of the "tear up" days and it turns out I was right to pay attention to it, so now I want to make sure I don't overuse it and make things worse. Especially with Oz and recital so close.

I've had this irrational fear that something would happen to make me have to sit out one or both. Maybe it's because I've seen it happen to people, or because I know my body is sort of angry at me all the time and there seems to always be potential for something to go wrong. Maybe it's the fact that I'm so darn accident prone, I don't know, but this year it's felt heightened. I want to be careful to not make anything worse and do everything in my power to help my back improve.

I'm hopeful that in the long run this will be really good for me, maybe even help my dancing. It is also really encouraging to know that some of the places where I was lacking weren't due to anything I was doing wrong or not doing well enough, but rather because of this underlying problem that can be fixed.

I'm also hopeful that I can get a full understanding of what is expected of me so that I can work to correct this issue and get back to dancing to my fullest potential. I'm a little nervous of how much maintenance this will require, but beyond grateful it doesn't require surgery or to stop dancing.

It could be so much worse. I just feel really blessed to be where I am in life.

I'm glad my back started hurting.

Remember that one post where I said I was scared the knee pain was more than just knee pain?

Exhibit A.

I went to the chiropractor's office yesterday after developing a really painful knot in my lower back. It was so bad I couldn't even sit and having the ballet class I really needed to be at, I knew I couldn't handle it. 

Sure, maybe push through this class, or skip it, but what if this doesn't go away? It's not just my back; it's my knee, it's my head, it's my hip, it's so many things I can't think of them all while dancing to keep the pain away.

Well now we know why.

I called my Dad since he works on the computers of a chiropractor's office in town and he was actually on the phone with them when I called. They were able to fit me in yesterday, and this is what we learned.

From the above picture: My left leg is shorter than my right.

I knew my hips were out of alignment frequently, but I had no clue that my left leg was actually shorter. A friend I grew up with had this issue and wore special shoes and everything, but I didn't know I had it too.

Then my spine is all jacked up as you can see, and my hips way out of alignment, more than what can be fixed with a simple jerk to set them back (like my PT did two years ago.)

Hence the hips pain.

Then:

Yeah, my back is supposed to be straight up against the back panel thingy. 

It's clearly not.

He called this a "cheerleader back" which made sense to me since my family has cheerleaders in it. This is probably due in part to my hips and back being misaligned, but also something I need to work on.

No wonder I have such a hard time tucking my tailbone in class.

The Doctor said they're going to have to re-teach me how to stand.

Yeah, so, you can see a lot of the vertebrae that are misaligned. It's causing a lot of strain and pressure and just really bad. (Also, you can see the sutures from my removed gallbladder. Kinda cool.)

See how the one side is bigger than the other?

Yep. Arthritis.

Apparently when I was in that car wreck (that caused most of this. But I had no clue. Cause the ER told me nothing? thanks ER.) the whiplash caused some damage and over time it calcified and caused arthritis. It doesn't really affect me, but it makes my neck bigger on the one side. And no wonder my teachers tell me I hold all my tension in my neck. You can also see some of the vertebrae misaligned here too.

Your neck is supposed to curve.

Mine doesn't. It goes straight up and down. The Doctor couldn't even get the 3D model to do this, like, my neck shouldn't be doing this. But apparently my vertebrae are backwards or something. He explained it, but I don't remember the details since there was so much information to take in. But my neck is shorter than it should be, as well. To quote him, "God just made ya funny." I like this Doctor. 

So this makes all the pain make sense.

I figured there was some connection since it was all happening on my right side. The impact of the car wreck was on the right side. I wish I would have known I needed to see him back in 2011 when it happened, especially since I had just began ballet two weeks before and could have helped my learning so much more, but thankfully this is all reversible. He says it'll take about six months to get it all straightened out and I'm going to have to work hard, but I am just so thrilled to actually have a doctor give me an answer and not just pass me off as being dramatic like everyone else has. (spare my family practitioner. I like her.) 

This should also help my stomach, which is amazing. And it'll help my dancing. 

He's gonna try acupuncture on me too, which I'm oddly excited about.

He kept saying, "Such a tender age..." for all the things that were wrong. Which honestly, made me feel really comforted. So often people talk to me and treat me like I'm just being dramatic and just need to suck it up. The ones that were helpful were actually helpful to the extent of their knowledge (like taping the knee and using oils to help me through) but everyone else made me feel like I had no right to say anything. Even my boss made a comment like I was being dramatic or like it was all my fault and I should have fixed it years ago but I literally didn't know. And it made me feel bad. Or like it was a competition because he has cancer and obviously this isn't cancer, but it is painful and is going to take a lot of time and healing and work. And if I didn't do anything for it, it would greatly affect my way of life, as it already is. 

I love this doctor. I love his care for his patients. I love that he loves and respects my Dad and is able to help me so much. I am very fortunate. 

I was also able to tell Ms. Lori about it all (I had asked her opinion last class) and she was very grateful that I did so now she knows what to look for and can better help me. 

Goodness, I'm so glad I have her as a teacher.

Things are actually working in my favor and it's wonderful.

Confession

I'm afraid this knee pain is more serious than I want to believe and will cause me to have to stop dancing.

That may not be the case, as it wasn't last time. But last time it had gone away by now.
Granted, last time there were dr visits and PT, but still.
I'm afraid they're just gonna say it's arthritis, and what if it's not?

I'm 26.

It's only sometimes, and I don't have a reason this time. And I really just want to see a doctor who handles dancers and knows this kind of stuff but my home town sucks when it comes to doctors.

Weighing my options before I take action I can't really afford.