A Culmination of Five Years

My last ballet class was the day before winter break 2006.  The next day I was in the hospital.  I had spent 13 years striving to fulfill my dream, to become something that I desperately wanted.  Until that 2 week stint in the hospital, ballet was everything.  The grueling schedule, the sore muscles, the infected and bleeding toes, the harsh criticism, and the bald spots from pulling my hair back too tightly were all what was required to become the prima ballerina I wanted to be.  But, having what you love the most bring you to the hospital for a lengthy amount of time is certainly cause for reevaluation.  

I was dancing at the Washington School of Ballet under world-renowned ballet masters and mistresses.  Many of my classmates are now professional ballet dancers with companies such as the Boston Ballet, Ballet West, and the New York City Ballet, just to name a few.  Believe me when I say I play the "What-if" game all too frequently in my mind.


As for me, I've spent 5 years living in fear of this monster.  I never wanted to come close to the idea of dance ever again.  The flashbacks were triggering and became too much to handle.  I asked those around me not to speak of ballet.  I changed the TV channel when "So You Think You Can Dance" came on.  I changed the radio station when the score to Swan Lake played.  I threw away my tights and leotards as well as many of the pairs of shoes in my pointe shoe collection.  


Recently, I came to the decision that I cannot live my life in fear, a paralyzing, debilitating fear of something that once was my life.  I still hold firm that the dance world is a cruel place.  It is not what little girls dream of.  It's pure hell.  But, there are a select few teachers who realize that dance can be a positive experience if the realization occurs that it doesn't matter if the students become professional or not.  It's the impact the teacher has on their lives.  


About a year ago, I began to consider taking classes again.  Last summer I was twirling in the kitchen.  Then I would stretch a little.  Eventually I was doing real ballet moves again, feeling around in the dark to see if my body still experienced the same euphoria it once had. 


Over the past few months, I began to search for one of the only ballet teachers who was a positive influence.  I finally found her name on facebook of all places.  After a few weeks, I called her.  Let me have you note that I hate talking on the phone.  It freaks the heck out of me.  I like seeing who I am talking to so I can measure their body language and facial expressions.  Long story short, it was a positive experience.  She invited me to take classes at her personal studio and if I want, I can teach dance at her studio to young dancers.  


My hope is that this experience will be one of healing and making peace with my body.  I want to correct emotions that have been eating at me for years.  I want to feel whole again.