Another Night at the Barre

It was recently the birthday of a friend of mine I met when I first began dancing. I text her birthday wishes after going through my TimeHop app and seeing all the many birthday greetings throughout the 7 years (woah) that I’ve known her.

I told her I was glad she was born, she replied with, “…I’m glad you were born too, and that we both took ballet.”

That got me thinking.

About life and the last 7.5 (how) years since I threw caution to the wind and took that first ballet class. About how many people I met through dance that are still in my life. How many are among my dearest friends. About opportunities I’ve had in my personal life that I wouldn’t have had otherwise.

So. Many. Things.

When I made the decision to take that first class, I wasn’t merely beginning ballet classes. I was unknowingly setting myself up to be on the greatest life path I could have asked for, surrounded by some of the most incredible people.

I was giving myself the basis I needed to be able to compare the progression of my illness day-to-day.

I was making connections I never would have pursued otherwise.

When I think of my inner circle of friends, all but maybe 4 of them are from dance. Especially now that my illnesses are progressing, the kindness of my dance friends has been astronomical, filling voids I didn’t know I even had. Even being an ambassador for LIVE wouldn’t be a thing if it weren’t for my dance friends. And that is currently pretty detrimental in my life course right now. (More on that later.)

I’ve learned more about myself in the last 7.5 years than I ever thought possible.

My life may be unconventional, but it’s something I wouldn’t trade for the world.

And the students.

The students I’ve gotten to meet and teach have changed my life in was I never imagined.

A friend of mine made a comment (hey, Emily) that even if I’m having the worst day imaginable going in to the studio to teach–you know, those days when it’s so bad that it’s written all over my face–I always leave looking like someone breathed fresh life into me. These kids give me life. They put air back in my lungs and blood in my veins. They remind me why I’m here. They inspire me.

One of my kids in my first class today was celebrating her ninth birthday. She was apologizing to me for having to leave early last class because of her head hurting (precious little nugget, apologizing for being sick) and how she had been crying before class, but she couldn’t remember why. She didn’t think it was because of her mom, but whatever the reason she had been crying, which made her stomach hurt, so she thought the headache was from that. Turns out she ended up getting really sick, fever and all.

And it made me realize something I can forget when I get wrapped up in the selfishness of my own world. These kids are living their own lives, they’re facing their own struggles. There are things that make them feel happy or sad, and sometimes they can happen right before class. Sometimes they make them feel things deeply, and sometimes they don’t always show when it’s bothering them. As this little one told me of her health issues from that weekend in a way most nine year olds wouldn’t know (she’s had more than her share of illnesses) I realized the depth these kids souls are capable of having. I realized the power of influence we as teachers truly hold, and how it’s up to us to use it to leave them feeling better or worse.

When one of my kids in my last class was exceptionally quiet, sitting a little closer to me than usual at the beginning circle, I held her four-year-old hand as the other kids went around the circle sharing about their Easter holiday, hoping that she would associate that place with safety, that something so simple would help soothe whatever in her little heart was battling to surface.

These kids mean the world to me. I love them more than I have words to express. I didn’t get to where I am alone. I got here due to the people I’ve met since I’ve danced. I got here from the people in my life who’ve believed in me. People who’ve held my hand as I struggled to simply remain. People who have set the example for me to follow of how to love simply and love well. I stay here because of the assistants in my class who help me avoid things that make my body hurt worse than normal.

We’re in this together.

And I am so grateful.

(Here’s some pictures of Annabelle and I. Happy birthday (week) friend, I’m glad to know you.)

One year.

That’s how long it’s been since my feet have danced in pointe shoes.

One year since the last performance of our spring show of 2017.

Deep down, I was aware that it would be my last. That I would have to dial back and slow it down. I knew I wouldn’t be in pointe shoes again for a while, or dance in the corps, or have warm up on stage.

I didn’t realize that I would essentially have to stop dancing all together. That my back would get more messed up than it already was. That I would be so tired that I can’t really do anything outside of what is absolutely necessary. (Don’t assume what you think is necessary is the same as what I’m able to do. Dishes? Putting laundry away? Cooking, let alone eating 3 times a day? None of these are necessity right now. I digress.)

One year ago I pushed through all the pain and exhaustion and made it through my last show of Snow White which ended up having some of my favorite roles I’ve ever done. I don’t think there’s words to describe how it left me feeling, or what the memories of dancing in that show mean to me. Or even dancing at all. To think, I almost didn’t begin dancing. Fear tried to hold me back until I wanted it more than i was afraid of it. Until sheer determination and lots of hope lead me to figuring out how to begin.

Remembering the feeling of my hair pulled back right into a bun, or in this case braided into a crown around my head by my friend Lauren. The costume fastened tight around my torso like I like it, the sound the costume makes when you’re walking backstage, or trying to keep your pointe shoes quiet while also trying to get to the other side of the stage in time. The rush before your music cue, and the cheers after the curtain closes. Smiling so hard your cheeks hurt. The fake eyelashes that never seemed to stay on properly, largely because I suck at putting them on. The preparation and last-ditch-effort prayers that go in to putting on pointe shoes, hoping you’ve wrapped or taped or padded your toes enough. The split toenails. Moreso, that liberating feeling taking your shoes off. Hearing your friends next to you gasping for breath as much as you are, and watching the rise and fall of their chest in the moments of stillness, pretending like everything we just did was super easy and casual.

One of our regulars came in to work today and asked if we did anything for Easter with Ballet. We didn’t, and I told her about Giselle coming up. She asked if I was dancing, and I said not really. That I’m involved but not dancing. She made a comment of how I must be facing the burn out, which happens to all of us.

But that’s the thing, I’m not. I’d be out there if I could. And while it’s nice to have weekends without extensive rehearsals, I miss feeling that sense of purpose.

My life is slowing down, and I hope to utilize it as much as possible. There’s much still up in the air and things I’ll be weighing out in the near future, but it’s not anything I can say yet.

Amazing the difference a year can make.

Ironically, it’s also been 3 years since I first had to go to the chiropractor and found out about all my back issues. (Here’s the blog post.)

It’s also 4 years since my house fell, which ended up being a good thing so we could build it stronger, and probably why it was able to withstand the hurricane.

It’s also my sisters birthday

A day for reflection.

Here’s some of my favorite pictures from last year’s performances

(Last picture compliments of Alex Treviño)

(Second and third picture compliments of my dear Elizabeth.)

(Also. Apparently I had ooooone more show, which was at a different location. But for all intents and purposes this was my last “real” show. I don’t wanna re write this post. 😂)

We have two weekends of rehearsals left before “Selena Week” when we rehearse at the theater. It’s exciting to see Act I come together like it has, and I’m anxious to get to see Act II. I wanted to sneak in to a rehearsal, but they happen while I’m teaching on Saturdays so I haven’t had a chance. I’ve heard great things, and seeing all the girls at photo day made it exciting.

We were off last weekend for Spring Break, and we’ll be off next weekend for Easter. The weekend after, we’re hoping to have the dogs at rehearsal to work with, which I’m super excited about. Last rehearsal, we had a fill in dog which was really fun. It’ll be great having all the dogs on stage and I hope to get loads of pictures with them. Stay tuned 😊

I felt terrible today, thought about texting our director and staying home, but I really wanted to be around everyone and I hate missing rehearsal. I figured i could handle it since all I do is walk on stage, react, walk off stage, then do it again. Simple, right? Apparently it was still too much. I’m still very much so learning the boundaries of my new realities, and the extent of how far it goes. I hope to post a formal, lengthy update in maybe the next month to fill y’all in on everything in more detail, but I’m still waiting for some of those details.

I made the decision to go home after one run through today. I was dizzy and nauseated and knew it would be better for me in the long run if I were in bed. It’s infuriating, but it is what it is.

My classes were surprisingly great this week. I was very grateful. I love being in the studio and surrounded by the atmosphere, and I try not to take any of it for granted. I know each moment truly is a gift.

Also, I have some pretty incredible people in my life that I’ve met through dance. That is a gift a can never repay.

Short update, but thank y’all for sticking with me. ❤️

We’re in the last month of rehearsals before Giselle in April here at my home studio.

I knew it would be different not being as involved as usual, but I don’t know that you can really prepare yourself for all the emotions that come with it. Some days I just want to dance. The fact that that is nowhere near an option can be heart breaking, even if it’s something I’ve known for a few months.

I was going through my Instagram timeline yesterday, curious to see what kind of fade has really happened since I’m not in a studio 6 days a week anymore. It was fascinating. Even now, I’m early to rehearsal, watching the warm up class I used to take, remember what it felt like to retain the combinations, work your body to try to meet the expectations, and figure out new things with movements you’ve done daily for years now. I miss the “good sore” feeling. I miss the sweat breaking on my forehead. I miss the pressure of the pointe shoe against my foot and toes. Is that weird? Maybe.

Since we had program pictures yesterday, I wore my contacts. I was also late to my picture time since it started 15 minutes before my class across town ended. It was fine, though, they understood and worked with me with no problem. This is the first group of kids I’ve had that have never seen me without my glasses. Some of them were really taken back by it, not sure if it was me at first. Most figured out that I was wearing make up and my hair was in a bun and I wasn’t wearing glasses. Even some of the parents commented and asked what the occasion was. Which is kinda funny. You don’t really realize how different things are when it’s a slow fade until you look back and see all the changes.

It was spring break so many of my students in my first class were missing. It worked out, though, because I was able to really go over the transitions with them. When I have all of them back, it’ll help to have half the class already know what’s going on.

It’s been fun being able to be at rehearsals with my friends again, even if I’m not dancing with them this time. The atmosphere is the same, and it’s comforting. I try not to take for granted every opportunity I have to be in the studio and around this art form, even if it’s different than before.

The studio is closed this next week for spring break. I’ll miss my little nuggets, but will be excited when we’re all back together.

This has been a really difficult week, to say the least.

Those little things that cut you down and get under your skin seemed to come from every direction and pile up all at once.

To say I’m grateful for ballet and what it has given me in this life would be an understatement. I know I’m not currently well enough to take classes, but I still reap beautiful benefits from this community and family I’ve found myself in.

I have cherished friends that can tell something is off, take the time to check in on me, and listen to me as I completely shatter in a way I haven’t in I couldn’t tell you how long, blubbering through everything weighing so heavily on me. I can’t tell you how many times people avoid it, or don’t look close enough to see that anything is wrong, or if they do they don’t take the time to inquire. I was really struggling that day, and the fact that someone cared enough about me not only to reach out, but to attentively listen as I verbal vomited all over the place meant more to me than I have words for.

I know I’m not the greatest ballet teacher to ever walk the planet. I have much to learn and countless ways to improve, but I teach some of the greatest kids on the planet. They’re fun and silly and determined and their hearts absolutely burst with kindness. They may have no clue that I was ugly crying moments before they’re class, but they just run up to me and hug me out of nowhere. Then they proceed to focus and pay attention and be patient as we work out a difficult part of recital positioning.

That trend carried to my Friday and Saturday classes as well, though my older girls could do with a bit more focus. It can be difficult when it’s the first class on a rainy Saturday morning, and only 3 of the 12 are on time.

All in all, today was a great ballet day. I taught my classes, as well as covered a 4-5 year old class in between and taught a private afterwards. The class I covered went surprisingly well. That age can be particularly difficult, but I think the odds went in my favor and that the allure of a new teacher played well for me. The two girls I had a private with made my heart burst. One is brand new to ballet and coming in recital seasons, the other has health troubles and has to miss a bunch. I was beyond excited their mom’s approached me about working one-on-one. Not only does it help them understand better and learn more, it will help having them know what’s going on to sort of direct the rest of the girls who either don’t want to be there or don’t care to focus as much. It helps them feel more confident in what they’re doing, especially when the tempo picks up. It also helps give them a good base off of which to practice at home.

I was a bit nervous that such a full day today would leave me exhausted. I haven’t done that much ballet back-to-back in I don’t know how long. But, it didn’t. I’m tired, yes, that doesn’t go away, but simultaneously I felt alive. It was energy well worth using, and being able to come home and try to get work done while laying in bed was nice. I wish I had more time to get things done at the speed I’m able, but that’s the way things go right now and I’m making the best of it as I can.

I’ll get through the dark days. I’ll work hard and push through when I want to give up. I’ll do that. But it sure makes the load a little lighter to have kind people there to walk beside you in the darkness, and celebrate with you when the light is finally shining through again. The tunnel is still very dark, but the light at the end is getting closer. I’ll get there one day, and I’ll keep fighting until I do.

 

Like much of the world, I’ve been watching the Olympics when I can. Not as much as I’d like to since I don’t have the channels, but I’ve conveniently been dog-sitting at the opening and closing, so I’ve been able to catch a few of my favorite events.

I don’t remember watching all of figure skating before. And by that I mean all four of the final groupings. I don’t recall what programming was like growing up in the 90s, but this time I was able to watch from group 1 all the way to the end of the 4th and final group.

You see these skaters from all over the world, doing their best, handling the pressure in their own ways. Some fall victim to the lights and weight of expectation, disappointed–and often rightfully–when they don’t place higher, whether they were in the medal contention or not.

Then you see these skaters, going out there and doing their best, knowing that even if they’re in the top three for the moment they won’t stay there when it’s all said and done. And you see their scores come up, and they’re celebrating. Not because they’ll be getting a medal, but because they far surpassed their personal best records.

To them, that’s as good as gold.

And, no matter their placement, each and everyone can call themselves Olympians. No matter their placement on the final score sheet, no matter the color of medal or if there’s a medal at all, they all are still Olympians. They are all there, having that mutual experience in their own way.

I feel like these dancers in the ballet world. I’ll never be a dancer that’s known, I’ll never be pro, I’ll never be a “ballerina” in the technical sense of the term, but i am a ballet dancer. I get to have that title. I have my own experiences in this journey.

I’m here, I’m doing my best with the opportunities I’ve been given, and it’s my decision on whether I let myself feel crushed by the fact I’m not better or can’t be better or if I let myself celebrate my victories, my personal bests. Even if no one else is celebrating with me, will I choose to do this for me and what I can get out of it? Or will i let myself be bothered by if I fall short of where I feel I’m expected to be, or if I am never known, even locally, or if I just blend in as nothing spectacular.

Some of these kids are American, competing for other countries through heritage allowances. As Americans, they’d never even be seen, but going this other route they get an Olympic experience they wouldn’t otherwise have. And they’re out there, living their best lives, working their tails off, skating as though they were the greatest there, even if no one remembers them after the closing ceremony is broadcast.

I’m human. Emotions are things that exist and we all have to deal with them. It’s nice when they’re excited and happy emotions, but all too often they’re ones of sadness and disappointment, even anger. It’s my choice whether I let myself wallow in the negative emotions, or if I choose to enjoy this life I’ve been given and celebrate my victories as I achieve them.

I’m still adjusting to my reality that illness is part of my story. I think back on my accomplishments to this point and I smile.

I began. I took that step and faced my fears. I signed up for class and fumbled through until it started to make sense. I started taking more classes, practicing at home when I could, studying up on what terms meant and the technicality behind them to better understand. I started staying to watch the advanced classes. I pushed myself to earn pointe shoes after asking my teacher what to focus on to help me get there. I started working on understanding dancing ballet with this new apparatus strapped onto my feet, fumbling through and struggling to find shoes that worked for me. My studio closed, so I found another. Nervous as heck, I began again, adjusting to the new way of doing things and figuring out where I fit. I took class with kids half my age. I took a huge leap and auditioned for The Nutcracker. I danced my first pointe performance, even though I struggled. That spring, I did my first character and jazz dance in a performance. I never expected that. I continued on, doing Nutcracker and spring shows. I advanced into the highest level ballet class. I danced the role I set out to achieve, Lilac in Waltz of the Flowers–a role that most feel entitled to dance once they hit a certain level, but for me it was a crowning achievement. Even further, I danced in the highest level Ballet role in our spring show, another personal achievement.

I did all these things, I celebrated, I took the moment to appreciate where I was when I was there.

Now I try to find the grace to extend myself that those things, in just a year, have become an unachievable memory. I find enjoyment in being able to still be surrounded by the Ballet environment. To be involved in any way I can. That I get to teach. That I’m given roles I can do in shows, even if they’re nothing like what I used to do.

But this is my life. My story is being written every day. This is my reality, and I take it as it comes. It’s up to me to let emotions make me bitter that I’m not what I used to be, that I can’t fight to be better than I am anymore, or I can celebrate the little victories I achieve every day. They may not be victories the calibre of what they used to be, but that doesn’t make them any less worthy of celebration.

Today, I choose to celebrate my ability to still be able to be in productions. To attend rehearsals, to be involved. To wear costumes and be on stage and be involved in something bigger than me.

My story isn’t finished just because I’m sick. I’m just writing a different chapter. Life handed me a plot twist I wasn’t expecting in the slightest. But the pen is still in my hand, and as long as there’s ink in it I’m going to keep writing.

Over the past month and a half, I have been nominated for a blogging award by two different, extremely kind fellow-blogger friends. I rarely have time to get on my laptop, so it’s taken me a bit to actually get around to “accepting” this aware (Read: posting this blog) but I ask you please forgive my delay and enjoy this blog post anyway.

Mystery Blogger Award

I was nominated for the Mystery Blogger Award both by Anna “The Dork” as well as May, two people I absolutely adore and appreciate beyond what words are capable of expressing. This award, should you choose to accept it, is intended to be a way of betting wonderful, often not-well-known blogs out there and seen. (as well as appreciated.) If I’ve nominated you, you don’t have to “accept” it and do the post if you don’t want to, but it’s definitely a fun thing to be a part of!

Here’s the rules:

• Put the award logo/image on your blog.
• List the rules.
• Thank whoever nominated you and provide a link to their blog.
• Mention the creator of the award and provide a link as well.
• Tell your readers 3 things about yourself.
• You have to nominate 10 – 20 people.
• Notify your nominees by commenting on their blog.
• Ask your nominees any 5 questions of your choice; with one weird or funny question (specify).
• Share a link to your best post(s).

 

Anna and May have been some of my greatest supporters. It’s been 2 year (today!) since this blog made the jump to wordpress and really started gaining some traction. Without people like Anna and May, I would more than likely be writing to a void. Which, I mean, I’d do it anyway, but it’s really nice to have support and feedback from people.

Anna is a fellow ballet lover who writes about the ins and outs of her experiences in the ballet world, whether it’s classes, recitals, realizations, you name it! She also has a great instagram account that’s candid and real. I love it.

May recently made the switch from a ballet-specific blog to one more about the beauty in life every day. (Don’t worry, it still heavily features ballet!) A kindred spirit, for sure, I greatly appreciate her posts and honesty.

Three random things:

1. I have what some may consider and unhealthy obsession with Harry Potter. The muggles just don’t understand.
2. I’ve journaled consistently since I was about 12. I have since filled over 60 journals, all of which I still have. (2011 went missing for 6 years, but was uncovered after Hurricane Harvey destroyed a storage unit of ours. Don’t worry, they made it!)
3. I take a polaroid every day. I started this after reading a story of a man who did the same until the day he died of cancer, making it 18 years of polaroids. I began in March of 2015.  It’s one of the coolest projects I’ve ever taken on.

The Questions.

(I’ll have 10 since I was nominated by 2 different people. Here we go!)

Anna’s questions

1. If you were a soup, which flavour of soup would you be?
   I’d be a good ol’ bowl of broccoli and cheese soup. Don’t ask me why because I don’t know.
2. What causes you to doubt yourself?
   Other people’s opinions; namely, if I can’t get them to understand something, and they’re in a position in my life where I hold their opinion in high regard, I begin to doubt myself.
3. If time, money, distance, relationships and education were not an issue, what would be your dream job?
   I’d write. Not sure if it’d be being paid to blog, or books, or articles, or what. But, dang it, I just love writing.
4. What does your dream house look like?
   Like the one I’m in. I live in a tiny house my Dad built me. It’s perfection.
5. What dance move or style would you like to master?
   I would love to be able to do multiple clean pirouettes.

May’s questions

1. Where do you see yourself in 5 years time?
   If you’d asked me this five years ago, you’d have a very different answer to the current reality. I never expected this. But I’m gonna ride it out and see what happens. That being said, I see myself happy, whatever I’m doing, and hopefully not any worse physically than I am now.
2. What is your favourite place on earth?
   Four-way tie between Rome, Amsterdam, the Bayside, TX cemetery, and my Aunt’s farm in Kansas.
3. Why is your passion your passion?
   I feel too much. It begs to be expressed. I’ll never be satisfied that it is fully and completely expressed, but I’ll do my darnedest to try and get there.
4. Where (a place) does your heart draw you to?
   Europe.
5. What is the wildest dream you ever dreamed?
   I really want to be in a movie. Don’t know that I’ll get to that one. The whole ballet thing doesn’t seem to wild of a dream to have had since I actually accomplished it, but had you told me I’d do everything I did when I first began I never would have believed you.

 

Questions for my nominees:

1. What is the one thing for which you are most proud of yourself?
2. What’s the farthest you’ve ever been from home?
3. Who is your biggest inspiration in life?
4. What your favorite song lyric you can think of?
5. What’s something you didn’t expect to end up as wonderful as it did?

My Nominees:

Chronicles of Grace: A fellow adult dancer who writes about her experiences, most recently including dealing with an unexpected (and heart-wrenching) injury.

imitationballerina: Originally began as a weekly ballet blog to track her progress in her return to ballet in 2014, but has become a Chaptered chronicle of her experiences in dance. Often candid and real, I super appreciate her writing style and honesty.

Zoe Inez : My friend from The Bush, she began writing about her experiences in ballet, and now writes as an invisible illness advocate and how that affects her life. Zoe was one of the main people to reach out to me about my own health issues and shed light onto what it might actually be. She’s been my inspiration to seek out answers and help. I owe her so much. Check out her story, she’s inspirational to say the least.

Dancing Recklessly : One of my absolute favorite dance blogs to follow. Her stories of her experiences in dance are incredible as well as inspiring. Let her blogs speak for themselves.

Right Here At The Barre: Alicia is another one of my longest dance friends and readers. She is a fellow adult ballet dancer that also dabbles in yoga and pole dancing. She writes about her ballet experiences and accomplishments.

 

I only have 5, instead of 10, but whatever.

Y’all don’t have to do this, but it definitely is a fun thing to be a part of. Thank you for writing and for following along. I appreciate having y’all in my life and the way technology brings us all together!

 

(Note: Upon finishing this post, I realize I was actually nominated for two different blogging awards. But I’m just gonna go with the one and roll with it. Six in one hand, half a dozen in another, right?)

 

As previously mentioned, today marks 2 years since I’ve been on WordPress. I’ve been blogging since 2012, but largely to an empty audience. My blog has grown and evolved as I have, and it’s pretty cool to see where I am now, what I’ve accomplished, and have hope for what’s ahead. Thank you all for being along for the ride.

I used to dream of one day dancing ballet. Of working hard and earning pointe shoes and dancing on stage in beautiful costumes.

Then I decided to start classes and work towards that dream.

Slowly, I started progressing. Slowly, I started taking more classes. Two years in, I earned pointe shoes and started the work of improvement in this new area of ballet.

My studio closed, I found a new one. Before I knew it, I was in shows, on stage in beautiful costumes. There were moments when my breath would leave me realizing I was the person walking backstage in such a way to try to not make a lot of noise in my pointe shoes or move the backdrop with my beautiful costume.

I dreamed, I fought, I saw them happen.

Life was literally a dream come true.

These days, I dream of waking up and not already feeling exhausted. I dream of being able to go grocery shopping by myself because it means i won’t need someone to help me lift things. I dream of being able to stay up past 9 without repercussions for the next week from not sleeping enough. I dream of being able to be put in stressful situations, handle them, and not pay for it for the next however long. I dream of being able to eat, lay down, and not have it come back up simply because of the position I’m in. I dream of being able to sit up without my hips hurting or feeling like it’s taking too much energy if I’m sitting on a chair without a back to lean against. I dream of standing for longer than 30 minutes without being in pain. I dream of muscles and joints that don’t cause me pain in my sleep, or because I stayed in one position too long, or because of who knows what else. I dream of not having to choose between things most people can accomplish in a day because washing dishes is too exhausting to also try to put away laundry.

I dream of taking ballet classes again, of doing shows and wearing pointe shoes and beautiful costumes. I dream of getting through barre without feeling like my brain won’t work anymore. I dream of doing arabesques without risking nerve damage in my back. I dream of hearing music and moving to it simply because I can.

There isn’t much I can do to work towards these dreams like before, but I still dream them. At the same time, I take time to be incredibly grateful for the things I can still do. I can still drive, I can still live by myself. I can still work and make money to pay my bills. I can still teach tiny baby ballet dancers and be inspired by them. I still have breath in my lungs that I can breathe in and out without pain. I can still sleep most nights.

And I can always, always, look back and remember all the things I was able to accomplish because I dared to dream in the first place. And not just passively, but chasing them in the face of fear until they were my reality.

I made my dreams come true once.

I sincerely hope they will come true again.

This weekends classes have been so wonderful.

Yesterday was one of the best classes I’ve had with them, and only 3 were missing. We got so much done I didn’t know what to do with the extra time. It made me so excited for their recital piece, which says a lot since they have one of two pieces I really want to do justice. I left feeling so good, which is always a good thing.

Today I had many of the girls that have been absent, whether sick or deaths in the family. A few of them in that class aren’t motivated, which makes learning recital complex. I’m trying to find ways to explain it so they’ll grasp it, but the ones you can tell want to be there don’t have trouble learning it. Well take it as it comes and get it figured out. I love them so much, though. They are so sweet and most of them are excited and so eager to learn. I still have to make some changes on their dance since the numbers have changed, but that’s okay.

My assistant was back today, which was heaven. The kids were SO pumped it was adorable. I don’t know how long we’ll have her due to rehearsals, but any class is a good class with her. Thankfully, I have a back up on standby in the event rehearsals take her again, but still. You can tell she loves being there and the kids absolutely love her.

We had a pretty good sized 3-4 class considering a rainstorm blew in during the class before it. A few of them were scared, but my assistant and I tried to keep them distracted and calm. About mid-class, a HUGE thunder clapped when we were all by the window. I looked at them as they all stared at me and said, “how cool! The sky is clapping for us!” And started clapping. Most of them bought it, and one even said later “dear sky, will you please clap for us again?” It was so sweet. A few were still pretty scared so we kept them close. They made it through the class, though, so I’m pretty proud of them. I would have been terrified as a kid. They handled it like champs. I also told another one that the blinds on the window were magic and keep us safe from the storm outside. Sometimes having a vivid imagination on the fly can come in pretty darn handy.

At the start of the class, one of my students came up to me and handed me this,

And said, “thanks for being my teacher!”

My heart melted. These kids are so dang sweet.

Our studio owner was asking about all my medical stuff. I told her how much these kids mean to me and how much they help with all of it. They truly do. I don’t know what I’d do without Ballet.

Today was a reminder that when things get scary, you can change your perspective on it and find a way to face your fear. Is there thunder in your life? That’s just the sky applauding your progress. Take a bow and keep on going. ❤️

Last Saturday was the auditions for our company’s spring show. This year we’re doing Giselle, which I’ve never seen. I’m really excited about it.

Because it was auditions, I was left with no assistants. Normally this isn’t more than a minor inconvenience, but as the days go on it gets a little more problematic. (Me being the problem.)

The classes went great. My older girls really love to be there, which is so very exciting. I don’t ever have everyone there, so it’s making recital difficult, especially for the ones that have been missing class since catching up will be difficult. I’m not going to worry until I have reason to, though.

I got two new girls in class, sisters. They’ve danced there before but hadn’t been in a while. They held their own really nicely and I so appreciated the older sister’s work ethic. Home girl gets it, and it’s a joy to witness.

One of my dancers came up to me at the beginning of class and handed me two thin mint cookies. She said, “You get two, because you’re the teacher.” Obviously, this made everyone else ask her for one as well, but I said, “Nope! I’m the teacher, I win, go back to the barre.” and it was just a funny moment. You may not care, but I write it hear because I want to remember it.

Many of my 3-4 year olds were missing, which actually ended up working out quite well since I was alone. Bending over to tie ballet shoes makes me dizzy, and having the smaller number made it easier to keep them all in line. They’re really good kids, too, so I typically don’t have much of an issue with them, but herding 9 cats instead of 15 was nice.

The teacher for the class in between mine got caught in traffic on the way, so I took roll and started doing some stretches with them until she got there. I’m not sure if it was that or if it was the strain of the classes themselves that did it, but by the end of teaching I noticed a new pain on the right side of my lower back, as well as moments of numbness. So far, I haven’t had numbness from the bulging-disk-hitting-nerves thing yet, and this wasn’t numbness over the entire leg. It was in sections; part on my lower back, part on my hip, and part on my inner thigh. I found this odd, and asked my chiropractor about it on Tuesday. He showed me a diagram of what parts of the body are affected by the nerves being hit, and it made sense. We’re watching it to see if it progresses or mellows out before we get too concerned. I just really don’t want to end up with permanent nerve damage.

When I first began dancing and fought through all the things that tried to hold me back, I remember saying I could keep dancing even if they had to cut off my legs. I’d find a way to work with a prosthetic to at least do some bits. I never thought the thing to plague me would be fatigue, keeping me from having the energy to attend class, and now the (in worst case, dramatic scenario) the thought of “what if I end up with paralysis?” Obviously, that’s not where I am now, and obviously, we are doing our best to avoid that, but still. The fact it’s even a slim possibility can make you nervous.

Now I’m going through different ways I can alter my teaching to put even less stress on my body. (Doing Soute’s makes the numb feeling come back.) Hopefully it’ll work and I won’t have issues, because even having the most incredible assistants ever, I don’t like not being able to show the kids myself how to do things. But we’ll work with what we’ve got.

Last night, I had a new girl in my 5-6 year old class, so I spent a little extra time going over terms of steps we’re learning and the specifications with them. When I asked what shape your legs are supposed to make in a plie, they all shout back, “a diamond!” Then you hear this one little voice say, “Actually, I’m gonna call it a rhombus.” I looked at Kara, my assistant, and we both laughed because it was the greatest thing. Things like that truly make my day.

I love that ballet is part of my story, even if it isn’t as much of the plot as it used to be. I’m grateful for the little moments I do still get and am hopeful that this isn’t all for me. Just because things seem to be in a constant, albeit subtle, decline doesn’t mean they’ll always be that way.