There are some days that are simple and light and could be described as “pleasant.”
And then there are days that are complicated and dark and can be described using expletives that make your mom angry to hear them, causing you even more frustration.
(No? Just me? Okay.)
Sometimes those days turn in to weeks, or longer, and it can wear pretty rough on your soul.
Sometimes it piles on top of everything else you already deal with every day, making it feel hard to breathe.
So you debate even going to ballet, although it’s been a while and having days where you actually don’t feel exhausted are way fewer and farther between than they used to be and in spite of everything you’re still semi-alive enough to go.
You get in your car, get caught in traffic, cut off more times to count.
You finally get there right when your favorite song comes on the radio, so you wait it out before going inside.
The familiarity of the place begins to seep into your pores, saturating your skin, making it’s way deeper until it hits your blood stream.
You change into your ballet clothes, realizing your tights are still in your car. You get said tights, then finish actually getting dressed. Then realize your shoes are in your car, too, so you go back out and get your shoes, thankful that you haven’t cleaned out your car yet and that you check these things before class, and also that you get here early enough to take all these things into account.
You find the studio full, half with new faces. It’s a bit intimidating, until class begins, and one of your favorite teachers leads you through combinations that challenge your brain and body and you help the new girl next to you know which direction to turn in a soutenu.
And for that glorious hour, all your mind can allow to take in is ballet; the steps, the execution, the timing, the corrections. There’s no room for the stress you walked in with, the pending whatevers that leave you anxious or the fear of the unknown.
For the first time in what seems like forever, you’re finally in a place that’s familiar, a place that feels like home.
All those fears and anxieties and stresses will be there when you leave, but you leave a little lighter, knowing that you had an entire hour where you could leave it and just breathe.
This is why you dance.
This is why you fight.
This is why you refuse to give up.
Never quit fighting.