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Last night I spent the evening of my 26th birthday at ballet.
By choice.
And I regret nothing.
Our teacher wasn’t feeling well, so we had one of the principals subbing. As horrible as it sounds, I was glad to not have our regular teacher on my birthday. And I was excited to have someone new; a fresh outlook and viewpoint.
The way I can describe Heidi is sunshine embodied.
I mean, she would sing the moves as she demonstrated them.
She’s always smiling and happy and you’re looking at her like, “How in the world can you have so much pep after doing such a complicated combination flawlessly? Followed by, “This is why you’re a principal.”
She’s one of those that can bust out this badass, hard core, impressive move, then top it off with a giggle like, “This is nothing, but I dare you to double cross me. I’ll shank you. Hehehe.”

I love having different teachers, because they each notice different things. Heidi was adamant about your feet “talking.” What she means, is that you use each and every muscle and roll through your feet properly. No cheating and just popping into it. Her feet were so ballet beautiful that it made you want to do what she said; she proved what she said works.
It made me want to work harder and practice more. I want so badly for my house to be done so I can have the room to practice and stretch and work on all of these things at home. It’s hard not to get frustrated when you know you can be better if you just had the opportunity. I’m still trying to figure out ways to make what I have work.

Heidi teaches a lyrical class after our ballet class on Monday’s, and she and Ms Munro offered all of us to stay.

I thought, “What the heck? What better way to spend my birthday other than dancing?”
So my friend Hanna and I stayed.
I was honest when they asked me at first, and said, “I’m scared.” It didn’t come off as weak, it came off as blunt, and that was perfect. She asked the other girls what I could expect, and what they said was, “It makes you come out of your comfort zone.” To which I replied, “Oh, I don’t really have a comfort zone anymore.” Which is partly true.
I don’t. I’m constantly trying to press myself to try new things; to stop wishing on the sidelines and take the opportunities I’m given. I’ve always wanted to do lyrical, I know I have never done this before, but what better time than now? What better place than one where they understand that I’ve never done this?
She wasn’t concerned if I was good or did things well, she wanted me to try. She is the type that can read you without you saying a word, and she was kind enough to instruct me without calling attention to it. This is the sign of a great teacher; a great leader.

We began, and I closed my eyes. Fear is your biggest demise, and I knew that if I could just face it, I would be successful.
After all, dance isn’t all about being perfect, it’s about heart.

I know I was well behind all the other girls, especially the little super flexible ones. But you know, that’s okay.
At the end, we broke up into groups and made up our own movement with certain stipulations. We went first, I kept up, it went really well. And as I sat there and watched the other groups, I reflected back on my life and my dance history.
How I’ve only been dancing 3 years next month.
How I was in a car wreck I still have nerve damage from.
How I’ve been sick for 10+ years for reasons still unknown.
How I’m 24, 25, 26 and behind 12, 13,14,15,16, etc year olds.

How all these things used to hold me back, but here I am trying something new. Here I am, saying, “Screw you, excuses.” And trying something I’ve always wanted to do.
Breaking down those invisible barriers telling me I can’t and shouting, “WATCH ME.”
I may not be any good, but I’m free. I’m trying, and as long as I try I will grow.
I wanted to be able to do the shoulder roll over thing, and the heel click thing, and I wish I had the room at home to try them since I didn’t have the confidence to at dance, but I’ll get there. Part of me wishes I would have tried, but part of me knows I have to be realistic with my stomach, and that being there doing what I did was enough for the first day.

This morning I saw bruised knees, and I smiled.
Proof that I’m trying.
Proof that I’m facing my fears.

(Happy Birthday, Ms. Heidi.)

I absolutely love my Thursday class.
Ms. Lori has been subbing the Advanced Ballet class, so this last week was only our second time to have her teach us.
She’s so down to earth and kind, she’s human and accepts the fact that we are as well.
She doesn’t expect us to be perfect, but does expect us to do our best; that’s how we learn, and if we knew everything, she wouldn’t have a job.

You can just tell that this is what she loves; she loves the art, and she loves the people that encompass the art. What more could you ask for in an educator?
(Bonus points: she knows Jilissa. I was blown away by her empathy towards us in our first class.)

At the end of class, she got us all together and really expressed her heart for this art form. She told us how special it is that we get to be a part of something like this. It takes athleticism, but it also requires artistic ability. People can paint, people can play a song, people can do all these things but dance is the thing that requires you to become your art form. I read a quote yesterday that expressed how it’s the art form that doesn’t leave you anything tangible, just that feeling you get when you are in the moment.

I think that’s another reason I love it.
The history, the artistry, and that fleeting moment of tangibility you dedicate all this time and effort to achieve.

I don’t like the fact that I’m making an entire post about this, but I’m doing it anyway. 

Saturday was the day for our studio’s Nutcracker auditions.
It is actually hosted by two different studios, one that has a company attached, and anyone from any studio can audition, but for some reason no one in my old studio ever did–while I was there, at least. (Except Addie, until she moved to California ]: )
I had talked to Ms Munro about it, since I’ve only been on pointe for a year and am 26, typically people who have been on pointe for the amount of time I have are about 10-12 years old. Although I would love to audition and be in the Nutcracker, I don’t really want to awkwardly stand out among the 5-foot-tall preteens. Ms. Munro said to audition and she would let me know if there was a place they could put me, and she would let me know if there wasn’t. She told our class–the Ballet/Pointe IV–to go to the second of the three auditions. I asked her if she wanted me with my skill or age, and she told me either was fine, I asked if I could go with my skill since I would be going out of town, and she said that was perfectly alright.

I knew in advance that I would stick out like a sore thumb, but I didn’t expect it to be this drastic.
Thankfully, there were 6 of us from my class who were also there, including 2 of the other tall girls. I felt so much better having them there.
As the audition went underway, my nerves started to reside. It helped to be surrounded by overly nervous kids; you could focus your nerves on helping ease theirs and by doing such subside your own.

(I’ll have you know, when the youngest ones asked how old I was, they didn’t believe that I wasn’t 15.)

Upon first seeing Ms Munro, she asked, “You’re coming to this audition?” To which I told her, “yes ma’am, I’m going out of town right after.” To which she replied, “Right, that’s just fine.” So, there was that.

We did most of the audition in our ballet shoes–being that not everyone there was on pointe, they wanted to do everything we could with everyone before we released the kids who wouldn’t continue with us in our pointe shoes. We did some barre, some center, some adagio and petit allegro, and some acting. I found myself getting extremely nervous before things that were singled out. I would see these 11 year olds facing this audition with the utmost confidence and nailing it, giving it their all, and I would think, “I’m the adult in the room. If this 11-year-old can be confident, I can, too.”
I miss being 11. Where you still believe anything is possible and don’t have the doubts of growing up growing in your brain. I want to be more like these kids.

So, we got to pointe, and Ms. Munro put me in a group with the two other girls from my class that are about my height. That was nice, and helped me feel a little more secure.
We went first, which I tried to face head on and confidently, and thankfully got through pretty decently. There were a couple times I messed up, and one in particular that I wish I wouldn’t have let my face show it, but I learned. We did this one echape combination first off.
Echape, Echape, Echape, Sous Sous, Passe Right, Passe Left, Passe Right, Passe Left.
 The Passe’s were my challenge going into it, but I tried to remain confident and tell myself I could do it. I’ve noticed if I tell myself I can do it, I have a higher success rate than if I let myself feel nervous and anxious about it. Imagine that. 
In turn, I went all out. Without really even realizing it. I did the head, and the arms, and the face, and it was so much fun. I messed up one leg, but whatever, I finished fine.
At the end they would have us stand there so they could see our numbers write notes about us. This one judge lady that looked familiar but I couldn’t place and appeared like a professional ballerina looked straight to my number first and wrote something down.
I’m hoping that’s a good thing.

We did a couple things from the corner, which most of the kids seemed to struggle with. There were about 3 of the little kids that absolutely nailed everything. You can tell they work hard. One I had met before the audition started and she told me she’d only been on pointe for 3 months. I was impressed.
The last thing we did in our groups involved bourree’s, releve passe’s, and some turns from fifth–which I hadn’t even attempted since Instep because I wasn’t too good on them. On the last circuit of the combination, I did something wrong and rolled my right ankle. I think I made a face, but I got up and finished the last one. The shoes I’m in had made me nervous with how they seem to twist on my foot, and I guess this is why. It could have been worse, it could have twisted or broken, but it didn’t. It’s hurting today, and I have my advanced ballet class tonight, so we’ll see how this all goes. Thankfully, I have that pointe shoe fitting I won on the 27th, and one of the girls at the audition said that Capezio should have something to fit me. So that made me feel better.

Did I mention I did all this with a popped blister on my right foot where my pinkie toe knuckle is?
Yeah, there’s that.
Probably had an effect with why I rolled my ankle, but I had started by telling myself to forget about it.

We’re supposed to find out in 2 weeks. I dreamt last night that they gave me these rolls I had never heard of that were really small but there were a lot of them, and it was mostly acting. At first I was going to turn them down, then I realized that it was an honor that they were trusting me with these rolls. Then realized they were for the spring production and they were already casting me even though auditions aren’t until January.

So, my first audition is in the books.
Stay tuned for updates on what happens next.

Here I am with Mari and Lillian, who were about to go into the third group audition.
From what I heard of the advancement of the class, I’m glad I stuck with the second group. I’m definitely on the beginner side of the Ballet V class, and this audition went on the Advanced side of it.

I was glad that other friends of mine were there 🙂
Should be a great season!

Had my first “blood draw” at the new studio.
okay, okay, so there wasn’t really blood…
but there was loss of skin, so that’s something.

Now this is gross and kind of pointless, but it really made me happy.

My feet are starting to look like dancer feet.
They’re forming callouses and rough spots and toe nails are starting to split.
I’m starting to get dancer’s feet.
The normally dreaded thing is more like a right of passage to me,
A red badge of courage, so to speak.
It means I’m getting somewhere, means I’m growing.
That I’m not just getting blisters because I have the wrong shoes, but because I’m working hard and improving.
(okay, so it was because my toepad slipped, which rubbed my foot wrong, but whatever.)

Nutcracker auditions are tomorrow.
I’m excited and hopeful that maybe I’ll be good enough to get a part fitting to my age group.
If not, it’s okay.
I tried and that’s what matters. I can do nothing but improve from here.
(technically, I could stay stagnant, but really. What would be the point?)

Thursday classes leave me feeling invigorated.
Mrs. Munro complimented me, and helped me reach a higher back attitude and arabesque than I thought was possible. She pointed out that the reason I’m not going higher–because I should be, and I’m able to–is all because I just need to let myself lean forward a little.
Simple.

I’m excited to see where this year takes me.

I’m gonna be real honest 
Last night, I didn’t want to go to ballet class.
I had a emotionally rough weekend, and was having an extreme case of the monday’s–apparently bad enough that my co worker bought us mini blizzard’s on her way in. It seemed like Monday was just kickin’ everyone’s but yesterday.
Days like these can either make for a great ballet class that leaves me with a resounding feeling of success and satisfaction, or a really horrible class that leaves me near tears and wanting to quit. I was nervous that since this was the more advanced class that I would end up the latter.
I went anyway.

Why?
Honestly, because I thought of my old studio.
I thought of how I was sick the last two weeks of summer classes.
And how I wanted to skip.
And I did have to miss one class
But how I went to the rest of them, because summer is almost over.
I thought of how we really have no clue what tomorrow really holds. How even though it all looks like I’ll make my next class and everything will be hunky dory, that it might not be. You could get in a car wreck that messes up your left leg, causes nerve damage, gives you arthritis, and complicates your range of motion. You could break your foot. There is a long list of things that could happen and take away any further opportunity to dance.

I let this notion sink in a bit as I sat at my desk for the last four hours of work, thinking of all the things I could get done if I were to go home instead.
Then I thought of being home; actually putting myself in the scenario, and it didn’t feel right.
Then, wouldn’t you know it, the darn radio started doing what it always does when I’m debating against doing something I should do. Just about every dance song that’s popular on the radio came on, one right after the other, like it wasn’t not normal or something.
Fine.
Whatever.
I’ll go.
Then, on facebook, my non-dance, ropes course friend posted a status that said,
“Dancing makes everything better.”
Sign: Accepted.

So, I went.
A bit nervous, a bit sad. That started to lift when I saw my friend Mari that I used to teach with at Instep. A very pleasant surprise. Then my other friends began to show up and it all lifted my spirits.
We got into class, and some of the other girls are beginning to warm up to me. It’s really nice. The teachers make me feel really welcomed, and now the students are starting to accept us. (It’s like we’re the adopted kids and the natural-born kids are starting to accept that we aren’t going anywhere.)
There’s still a couple that seem a little rough around the edges, but whatever. I don’t need everyone to like me. I don’t need anyone to like me. But it is nice when some of them start to accept you.

I’ll be honest again, it’s still hard for me to see myself this size in a leotard without a skirt.
With a skirt, I can hide that my hips are there. My smaller waistline takes away from the fact that my hips are so huge when they’re hidden by that little bit of sheer fabric. But here, I don’t get that luxury. I oblige, knowing that it’s better for my teachers to be able to see all my muscles and alignment, and I’m doing all that I can at this point to try and slim it down. (it’s hard when ballet does the exact opposite of what my body type needs to alleviate this issue.) I try to remind myself that I could be smaller, that I have been  smaller, I’ve been the size of these girls around me, but it cost me dearly and now my health is suffering for it because for me, that isn’t normal. Normal is  a little smaller than I am, but I have to allow myself the time to get there. Also, I’m starting this a little older, so it’ll take me a little more time. I have to focus on the fact that I’m alive, and I could definitely not be. I personally think I was close to real consequences that would have involved hospitalization and who knows what else when I decided to eat again. So, yes, I am a little bigger, but I’m human. I’m healthy. I’m alive. And who knows, there may be a little girl out there like I used to be that can see me and see that I’m a decent dancer even though I’m not a rail and give them hope that they, too, can dance. That it’s okay for them to dance.

Anyway.
It seemed I wasn’t the only one with a case of the Monday’s. One of the “older” (I mean more advanced girls, although I think she’s younger than me) girls struggled with one of the combinations across the floor, grimacing at her less than stellar performance (that looked amazing to me, but whatever) She looked at me (people tend to look at me? I don’t know if this is normal and everyone gets looked at often or if there’s some reason they’re looking at me? anyway) and I asked if she was having a case of the Monday’s. I think that helped her feel a little more relaxed at it and remember that it’s probably just a bad turning day.
We ended up doing the combination again on both sides, and when we finished the left, we all kinda waited in a little clump like we normally do. She was talking to one of the other girls for a second, then she looked at me and asked, “are you trying out for Nutcracker?” I told her I was, and that Mrs. Munro said she’d tell me if there was a part for me that wasn’t with the dramatic difference that would be seen if I was paired with 9-year-olds, and she’d tell me if there wasn’t. So that I was auditioning, and if there was a part I’d definitely take it. (Typically, everyone makes Nutcracker.) She seemed excited that I said yes.
This simple question, this simple moment, really meant a lot to me. Thinking back on it still makes me smile. Here, one of the more advanced students in this studio I’m new to that has a lot of competitive dancers, this student that I haven’t really spoken to before, asked me if I was auditioning and was genuinely excited when I told her, “yes.”
I felt like I belong, like I’m wanted here. And I know this may be a silly thing, but it really does and it means a great deal to me.

Losing my studio was really difficult, no matter how prepared I may have been. Starting ballet at 23 was a big deal for me, it took a lot of guts and I had to confront a lot of demons. Ballet has helped me grow as a person, and I want nothing more than to keep pursuing this thing that teaches me so much in life and helps shape me into a better person. To have someone closer to my age, far more advanced than me accept me really helped.

Mrs. Munro was watching the class, more than likely getting Nutcracker ideas. When we did the right side and I managed to actually not suck as much as I had before, she came over to me and asked me, “Now, you don’t put on your pointe shoes for this class?” I responded, “No, I like having the challenge of this class. I’m not ready for it on pointe yet, I’ll save that for Thursday’s.” She agreed and thought this wise, and asked the same of my other friend who had told me at the beginning of class that she wants to start coming to the Thursday class.

Cliffnotes: The class left me feeling good. I may have messed up on my arms, or have passe’d the wrong leg even though I knew better, I may have glissade’d instead of pas de chat’ed when I knew what I was supposed to do, but it didn’t matter. I’m challenging myself, I’m growing, I’m getting better and better at the things I need to work on. And that is what being in class is about.

Wow that was a long post thank you for making it to the end. If you didn’t, no judgement.

My shoes are still giving me a bit of trouble, but I kept them on the whole class since I can do more on those than the others that kill my toes.
(I mean, I know pointe is supposed to hurt, but those are ridiculous…)
The box and my toes were fine, just the normal amount of discomfort that comes with it, but they were so baggy that it made me nervous. I had to hold back a little so I wouldn’t hurt my ankle since my shoe seemed to be twisting on itself as I pointed. I tried not to let myself get frustrated and just give up, but to find the balance in what I can do and to hold back a little when it was too much.
She had us do a bunch of scoops, which made me nervous since my shoe was so loose. I wanted to try, but I didn’t want to break my ankle or something.
At one point, we were at the barre just doing jete releve’s, and my ankle wiggled around so much that it hurt like I twisted it mildly afterwards.
I looked at my friend Liz after the combination, and mouthed that my shoes are too baggy and it hurt my ankle. She mouthed something back, but I couldn’t quite make it out, so I shrugged.
I won’t lie, I felt really defeated.
I held on to the hope of the pointe shoe fitting with Capezio, even though there is the possibility none of their shoes will fit me since my foot is so darn tapered.
My friend Liz gave me some of her extra elastic (since I never get enough, it seems…) and we talked about the class. She told me,
“You nailed those jete releve’s.”
“What? No I didn’t. You didn’t see my ankle nearly rolling?”
“No? It was literally perfect. You looked so light and made it look effortless.”
“Well it definitely wasn’t effortless.”

Then my cranial wheels got to turning.
Isn’t that what it’s about? Making something so pristine and difficult look effortless? Isn’t that what Jilissa always wanted us to do; make it look light? I remember trying not to put too much weight on the barre; that’s a bad habit I need to work towards eliminating. Isn’t this what I encourage myself with when I look at the pros? I look at their feet, I look for the wiggles, I look for the nearly complete but not fully completed third pirouette. I look for these deficiencies and then look at the whole picture and consider the fact that no one notices those little things because they’re too busy taking in all the things that are right with the whole picture. They’re busy registering the fact that what the dancer just did was insanely complicated, especially to make it look so easy, and even if they were to see the little faults, it’s nothing in comparison to everything they just accomplished.
After all, we are human.

Liz’s words were simple, but the depth of their encouragement is one that I don’t have words for.
That someone who was taught incorrectly as a kid, who was told she wasn’t the right size for dance, who was doubted, who was criticized could actually be one who is developing into something of the ballet image. Someone who is doing the technique correctly and in a way that doesn’t make people cringe or feel bad for the “bad dancer on the stage with all the good dancers, she must feel embarrassed.”

Maybe one of these days I won’t have to just rely on passion to make my dancing worth watching. Maybe one day it’ll actually be paired with skill. Maybe one day all this hard work will pay off.
It makes me want to work harder. It makes me want to practice more. It makes me want to try to be better.

Mrs. Munro taught our class, and she also came and corrected my back attitude. I had always wondered if it was right or not, and how to improve it; especially without looking like a dog next to a fire hydrant. And she did, she moved my leg up and told me, “You can get it there” and I did. I held it where she put it, and it’s like all the lights went off in my head and I knew that if I don’t push myself like that, I’ll never get better.

The thing with ballet is that you can never try too hard.
Go hard. Put as much effort as you can. If it’s too much, the teacher will reel you in and shape it into what it needs to be, but you gotta give them something to work with.

(also, she convinced me to try out for Nutcracker. She said she’ll tell me if there’s a place I fit in comfortably, and she’ll tell me if there’s not. That way I’m not, like, awkwardly the 26-year-old with a bunch of 11-year-olds.)

I entered this contest on Facebook through Capezio for a professional pointe shoe fitting, which includes the shoes and the works. They had three different opportunities from three different stores; New York, Dallas, and Austin. I entered for the two Texas ones, said a little prayer, and forgot about it.
A week or so later, I get this email from a Dianne with the subject line “Pointe Shoe Fitting-Dallas Texas”
“There’s no freakin’ way” was my exact audible response. My co worker thought something bad happened, poor thing.
I had somehow won this contest.
This has to be a gimmick, right?
There’s no way this is real.
I called Dianne, she got my contact information, and I set up the date with Anne yesterday.

So, I’m drivin’ to Dallas on September 27th for a pointe shoe fitting at the Capezio store in Dallas.
And I. can’t. wait.
This is exactly what I need, I think. Someone who knows what they’re talking about to look at my feet and see what I need.
Yes, I have to pay the gas, and drive 7 hours there and 7 hours back, but the shoes are free, which about the price of the gas, and the experience is really priceless, plus I get to see a dear friend from Bible school.
Totally worth it.

We had our regular teacher for the ballet/pointe IV class last night, Lori.
To say I love her is an understatement.
First off, she knows my old dance teacher. She started out class with roll and asked which of us came from that studio and we raised our hands. It was like she completely understood our plight and empathized. She used to be Jilissa’s neighbor and they are good friends. This made me really want to do Jilissa proud and show how well she trained us.
Lori used to dance with the San Francisco Ballet, (Insert me freaking out here.) although she grew up taking classes in the very building we are in. (I read this in her bio, but it’s definitely amazing hearing her say all of this.) She’s quirky like me, and keeps it light, but she also hones in on us and teaches us.
Not just shows us or not just tells us. She makes sure we have a clear understanding of the movement and why.
I have what I call a “why brain.”
I really like to grasp the full concept, and can sometimes get really frustrated if I don’t understand how I’m doing something, even if it’s correct. Why is it correct? It can get interesting.
But she made sure we all had clear understanding, and without difficulty. It’s like it just rolled right off of her.

I’m notorious for having incorrect arms. (Which, I now have a better understanding of, as she was able to show us efface, ecarte, and croise. Not just show us, but explain them in ways I comprehend.) There was one point where we were going across the floor and realized I had the wrong arms. I switched them and said, “ah, sorry!” kind of under my breath. (I’m also notorious for speaking without realizing it, although I’m getting better at this…)
To which she responded,
“Never apologize! Every movement is important!”

This was a new concept to me.
I have been told before that if you mess up, just go with it. If you’re confident about it, most people don’t even notice. I actually won a debate round at a speech and debate tournament with this logic. I debated affirmative while I was supposed to be negative, but I was so convincing, they gave me the win anyway. Ps. I suck at debate. PPs. The topic was interracial couples.
But in dance, you’re always told to strive to be better, to work harder, to be perfect. Having the wrong arms to me was imperfect.
But she didn’t merely scold me or correct me, she noted that doing it incorrectly is an important part of learning the correct way, to not apologize.

We aren’t here to be perfect, we’re here to learn. If we were perfect, we wouldn’t need class and she wouldn’t have a job. It’s not bad to be wrong, we just have to learn how to improve, and being wrong can be just the ticket to learning correctly.

Needless to say, my mind was blown.
I wish this class was more than once a week, but I am beyond grateful to be in it now.

Not too long ago, my friend Jackie saw a post from Capezio about a contest for a VIP Pointe Shoe fitting. There was one for NYC, one for Dallas, and one for Austin. The winner gets professionally fitted, a pair of shoes, toe pads, ribbons and elastics in an experience of a lifetime.

I entered, semi-absentmindedly, not even really thinking of how far Austin and Dallas are.
Yesterday as I was journaling at work about something semi-deep, I got an email and looked at it more out of habit than actual curiosity. But when I saw who it was from, I was shocked.

Dianne Giacoio  with the subject, “VIP Pointe Shoe Fitting–Dallas TX”

I think my exact words were, “There’s no freakin’ way.”

I opened it, and sure enough, it was a congratulations because I won the fitting.

When I entered, I said a little informal prayer, knowing that my feet need some real attention by someone who knows what they’re doing. It has been the most difficult thing trying to find shoes that work, and it’s really frustrating knowing that I can do more than my shoes allow.

I was in denial of this for a while because I had once heard, “Bad dancers blame the shoe.” Until my friend Liz, who has had pointe shoe woes of her own, told me, “Um, you need different shoes.”

I don’t know if they were expecting some 12-year-old whose momma signed them up, but they got this almost 26-year-old who is at the end of her rope and needed something like this to happen.

So, thank you, Capezio, for hosting this contest. For choosing me, an adult ballerina who will never be part of a company or probably amount to anything in the world of ballet. Because of all the opposition, you make me feel like you believe in me. That this dream isn’t something childish that I should give up on, but worth pursuing. That maybe I can finally have a solution.
Thank you.