crunch time.

I had every intent of making posts far more regularly, however life had other plans.

Still, I want to make sure I get this post written before opening weekend when I’m sure to have far more stories to tell that will make the details of these begin to fade, and I want to make sure I remember them.

A few days after I officially returned, we got a really heavy rain which for our old building means a bit of flooding and internet issues. Usually, we’re out a day, maybe two, and then back up and running. This time, that wasn’t the case. When we called our provider they informed us the underground cable had to be completely replaced and they didn’t have a timeline for when that might be completed. Their best suggestion was to get a hot spot.

I had come in to the office that Monday, October 31, to send an email reminding of the Ad due date that weekend. The rain happened the next day, Tuesday, November 1. We found out Friday that they would have to replace the cable and began the scramble to find work-arounds until we could get back up and running.

And it wasn’t just internet that was out. We didn’t have access to our phones, we couldn’t print tickets, couldn’t run payments, and our printer works off WiFi, so we couldn’t send anything to print. We did have a backup that’s supposed to work even in extreme cases like hurricanes, but it didn’t work either.

First order of business was figuring out how to endure the weekend. Thankfully, I had copies of all of the forms we would need for the weekend already printed, and our printer still functioned as a copier, so I made a bunch of copies of each of the forms to help fill the gap of everything we couldn’t access. When the weekend arrived, it was full of apologies, while offering the temporary fixes which usually did the trick. The hiccup was the fact I had missed changing the date on one of the forms we sent out for when the Ads were due and didn’t know until that weekend. We, of course, accepted them when that incorrect date said since that was my mistake, but most were able to get them in by the 4th anyway, which was helpful, and the ones who couldn’t we knew to be expecting so we could leave the size space for them.

After we got through rehearsal weekend, we got a hotspot hooked up and I came in Monday to get as much caught up as possible from the weekend. During rehearsals, I usually don’t come in Mondays or Tuesdays since I’m there through the weekends, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I believe between the two jobs I work, that week I put in 75 hours. And after the first day of using the hotspot, it stopped working for some reason, so I used the one on my phone, which wasn’t my idea. My brain seemed to short circuit through all of this, but thankfully someone suggested it and it worked. One of the dance moms, Jackie, found a way to use the backup thing so the printer could scan to the computer even if it couldn’t print, which saved my butt with the Ads as we scan in many of them and send them over.

Then, I reached out via email to our ticketing liaison, Jeff, who is a legend. He got us set up at the actual box office so we could print tickets, which my friend Nicole powered through and got caught up so quickly it was incredible. She also had us caught up up until this outage fiasco, so we weren’t behind to start with, which was nice. The only thing we couldn’t find a work around for was the phones, so those just had to wait. I felt terrible, but there was nothing I could do.

We were out of commission, using these patches for three weeks before it came up. They never notified us, I just happened to notice once that my hotspot wasn’t on but I could see the emails, looked at our internet tower thing and saw the green lights all on. A glorious day.

When I went to check the voicemails, we had 86. I wrote them all down and called back the ones who hadn’t emailed, getting hold of most of the people who we had missed. Thankfully, ballet patrons here are lovely and were completely understanding of our delay, most just happy to hear back from someone. I don’t like making phone calls, but obviously it’s part of the job. It’s made a little easier knowing what I’m talking about so I mentally prepare myself and hope for the best. Take that, anxiety.

In all of this, we have gotten the ads in and program produced, ticket orders in and printed, school shows reserved and seats assigned, raffle tickets logged and submitted, questions answered and studio running. Now, I’m thankfully at the point where it’s the lead up to opening weekend and I’m caught up, having double checked everything I had marked on emails while things were clunky to go back and make sure I didn’t miss anything. I’m going to triple check this week, just in case, but I don’t have as much on my plate as I expected. It appears as though we are through the worst of it and now its mostly just normal office management things I have on my to do list.

I have found the busier I am, the more difficult it becomes to manage my physical and mental health. During the covid shutdowns, I was seeing a psychologist (ironic timing) and diagnosed with ADHD, OCD, PTSD, Sensory Processing Disorder, anxiety, and depression, though I have a good handle on them most days. This was the real first test in that and it yielded interesting results. About two of the three weeks of the internet outage, I found myself really struggling, having to pull myself out of mental spirals and fight compulsions in ways I hadn’t experienced since before I knew what these things were and how they happened. Truly, had it not been for friends, I’d be a lot more worse for wear, the biggest hurdle being actually letting anyone in and admitting I wasn’t okay. I struggle with the balance of what I show to whom still, since most of the time it is easier in the long run not to admit when I’m struggling as it leads to more exhausting explanations and situations than just pretending I’m fine and figuring it out later when I’m home and alone. But here, I have been blown away.

Ballet has been my safe space since I first dared to take up classes at the age of 23, eleven (!!) years ago this past October. It’s been where I’ve gone to process my grief and trauma, giving myself the hour or two to leave everything out the door and reset, allowing myself a clearer head to process it all through. From car wrecks to friends deaths to everything in between, the studio is where I’ve gone. This, of course, became extremely complicated to navigate when I found myself too sick to continue anymore, and I clung to teaching until I physically couldn’t handle it anymore, which is also ironically when the world shut down. Honestly, having had to scale back so much in doses helped me handle the changes covid brought as I didn’t lose everything all at once as so many did; I had been processing each loss slowly as they came and was already mentally preparing for the final loss of giving up teaching when covid took it from me prematurely. Still, that’s only one loss of ballet instead of many at once. And now I find myself back in this place I have loved for so long, that has offered me safety and comfort in uncertainty, where I’ve met lovely people and carved a space for myself, but I’m here in new ways I never expected.

I thought coming into this that I knew what to expect, and work wise, I’d say my assumptions were spot on. What I didn’t expect was the onslaught of kindness I have experienced. Compliments literally every day, from so many different types of peopled–dance moms, dancers, board members, the public, even from our studio owners/artistic directs–and often. I’m so used to working and being in spaces where my kindness is used and abused, where I’m only important if people can get something from me, and once I’m out of sight I’m completely out of mind. I’m not a pushover–I’ve learned over the years not to be–however I’ve been in many work and volunteer spaces where I struggled to feel like I belonged or was seen. I was invisible, out of sight out of mind, only considered when they had some role that needed filled and not in ways that benefited me but instead drained me or requiring me to do things I was clueless about with little to no training and zero support.

I’ve told Ms. Munro how I didn’t realize that the way many of my superiors had treated me throughout my life wasn’t the way I should be treated until I came to teach at the studio. I was paid fairly, never forced or pressured to do things I couldn’t or wasn’t comfortable doing, and was considered in every decision that involved me. As my health declined, they accommodated that, and still do, making sure I have enough volunteers to help me take on the task of running the ballet office during Nutcracker season, checking in on me throughout. It’s taught me what I deserve, and to not accept anything less, which has set me up to take big risks with jobs that have lead to me being taken care of in my places of employment, with so little stress and zero fear; a stark contrast to some previous experiences. As a whole, I’m better for it.

And as if that isn’t enough, then you have the dance parents. We’ve all heard horror stories of dance moms, being divas and demanding and treating people terribly, but on the whole I have found the complete opposite. They thank me and compliment me, something I’m not used to. I go full awkward potato about 87% of the time I’m there because I don’t quite know what to do with compliments. I’ve finally got saying, “thank you” down, but I haven’t quite broken my compulsion of feeling I need to explain that I’m actually not that great. I’m trying.

Not only are these moms expressing their gratitude with words, but some even go as far as to bring me food and gifts and hand written cards, which are my personal brand of love language. Handwriting something tangible is an enduring and personal expression, so deeply “you,” and something I cherish and keep forever. It’s all so kind. Some of the mom’s have offered to help me, volunteering where they can, being a listening ear, offering solutions in the chaos, and some just meeting needs without me even asking. Truly, without them I wouldn’t have made it through this season. I’m eternally grateful and completely moved by their kindness.

It’s also been really nice getting to know some of the dance moms. For so long, I’ve been “friends with the kids” and most of the moms I knew had moved away and a majority of them I knew their kids better. It’s a weird dynamic since I am an adult, but truly to most of the kids I’m more of a bonus aunt or something, which is nice. But now, I’ve been becoming friends with the moms and its nice to be around people more my age, and not being the oldest for once. Its as though I feel a weight lifted by being around people older than me again, even if our life paths aren’t the same. They don’t look down on me for that, they accept it no questions, which I didn’t realize wasn’t always the case before until I was here and can see the difference.

The exhaustion of the season is definitely kicking in, and I’m sure when it’s all said and done I’ll have a little mini crash of sorts, though it will likely be more emotional than physical. I’m so grateful to get to be a part of this community and this ballet company, to be surrounded by such incredible and supportive people, to be making these memories and filling the story of my life with tales I will want to retell and, a bonus, ones that aren’t full of sadness as so much of my life seems to be. (so dramatic, I know.)

Here we go; ready or not, it’s show week, and I for one am thrilled.

behind the scenes from program photos

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