Another Night at the Barre

Work has really been picking up, and will likely be steady from here until May. It’s really rough on me and my body hasn’t been responding in ways that make it any easier. I’ll spare you details.

Needless to say, I’ve been a little nervous about my classes. They’re all either at or almost at capacity, which if you have ever tried to get 15 3 year olds to focus on anything, you know it can be exhausting. I also seem to be getting new kids nearly every week, which isn’t a bad thing, but can make it more difficult.

It’s all these little things that you never really notice until you’re forced to. Before, you just figure you’ll find a way to handle it and you make lemonade out of lemons. They’re virtually non-issues, rather just a tiny smudge of heightened “stress” solely for the fact that it wasn’t expected and you have to rearrange a bit. Life goes on.

But then you get sick and even these little non-issues become taxing. You take them as they come and try to stay positive. What other choice do you have?

But then you find the absolute joy in the little things as well. Like when your class that was problematic at the beginning of the year starts to maintain focus and actually make progress. Or when the brand new 3 year old that doesn’t speak the same language as you ends up being the best in the class by far. (My personal theory is that she focuses more than the other kids out of necessity. Since we can’t speak the same language, she learns by observation. It’s incredible to watch.) Or when you have the kids tell you how much they love their recital piece already, and how much they love their costume. Or when their personalities just fill you with more joy than you know what to do with.

At the end of the class for my youngers, we do this song called Slippery Fish. It’s essentially a silly song that tells a silly story that has ballet moves attached to it. We used it at my old studio, so my friend and I brought it over to this studio and the kids love it. One of my 6 year olds, in the middle of class says, “Ms. Emilee! Over Christmas” and I thought about stopping her because it didn’t seem to be a ballet related story, but she talked over me and said, “I was at my grandmas house and I said, “Alexa, play Slippery Fish” and she did!”

My heart melted. I asked if she did all the moves with it, and she said she did. This just made me so happy. You don’t realize how much they soak up until you hear little things like this. They’ll give you little glimpses if you look for them, occasionally, and it’s my favorite thing when they do.

I remember one of my 3 year olds saying something absolutely hilarious, but I can’t remember what it was for the life of me. I do know she’s inclined to say and do hilarious things just our of her personality. It brightens my day. She doesn’t even realize she does it.

These things make me so happy, and remind me why I fight to still get to teach. It’s still odd to think that a year ago I was teaching as many classes while also taking 3 classes and having rehearsals twice a week. (All while working full time) and this year I’m in bed by 8:30, having to take a day to do absolutely nothing because even showering is becoming exhausting. And it’s only January.

I’m trying to take it all day by day, and taking the time to notice these little moments that become balm to my soul.

A good adult ballet friend of mine just posted in a Facebook group about her progress and made the comment, “when you get tired, learn to rest, not quit!” Which really helped me. Such a simple concept, but so often all this makes me feel like I’ve been forced to quit, when truth is we don’t know what’s causing me to be sick. We don’t know what the future holds. I could get worse but I could also get better; we won’t know til we get there. So it’s not quitting, I’m taking the time required to rest.

(Thanks for that, Brittany)

This week was our first week back at the studio since Christmas break.

Honestly, I was nervous. I quickly got used to having my evenings and weekends far more free than than they are during the dance season. Balancing everything is a big struggle for me, but I really don’t want to cut out anymore than I’ve already had to, and the cuts have been extensive. But that’s a big downer so I won’t get into it in this post.

I was nervous about my Wednesday class. They haven’t gotten into a groove like last years class did and I found it rather disheartening. Wednesday’s class only had 9 kids (out of 16) but it was an absolute dream. It was the most focused I have ever seen them, which really helped us get through more things than usual. I hadn’t choreographed their dance yet, so I was able to try things on them in order to know what they’re capable of and get their dance knocked out today. It made me so happy, and I hope it set a tone for the rest of the semester. We’ll see how it goes when everyone is back in class.

Fridays class was a bit more complex. I forgot that I had gotten so many new kids, and they weren’t having it at all. It’s was beyond frustrating. They wouldn’t focus and didn’t seem to care to be there at all. I wanted to be like, okay cool bye, but you can’t really do that. I’ll just have to prepare more with that in mind and take away the special things they were getting since the class started out so wonderfully. Now it’s causing too much of a distraction. Their recital is done and if they’re going to be able to do it, it’s going to take a lot of work.

Obviously, I can’t expect every class to be perfect, but it takes more energy than I have when they don’t focus in class.

I have my assistants back, which is so stinking wonderful except for Saturday’s. Found out they had rehearsal, so I scrambled to find a solution. Thankfully, one of my assistants little sisters has been helping out during the week, so I asked her mom if she could help on Saturdays and she was totally on board. I also had another friend who is in the older class but not in the rehearsals help with my 6-8 year olds. It was an answer to prayer, honestly. Work is already intense and I’m feeling the strain and it’s only January. If I’m going to endure the next five months, I have to pace myself and use all the help I can get.

My 6-8 year olds were so great today it gave my heart so much hope. I started working with them on their recital dance, and the feedback I got was so wonderful. They’re excited and I really think it’s going to be great. Once again, half the class wasn’t there, but it made it to where we were able to get more done. I was able to sort of work out the bumps in the piece and should be able to have it all set for next week. Hopefully more of the kids will be there so we can get rolling with the dance.

My 3-4 year old class had two new girls, one of whom didn’t speak English. She was super precious, though, and kept up really well. I’m excited for her. I was extra glad to have the help I had today since I had 11 kids, and it wasn’t even all of them. They remained relatively focused, which was impressive, and we were able to get through quite a bit. One of the little ones asked me to tie her shoe, as often happens. She asked me if they were going to have a costume for recital. I told her yes. She asked if they were going to have a dance, and i told her yes, that i was going to put it together for them. That they would learn it and perform in May and be beautiful. She said, “thank you so much! You’re the best teacher ever!” And gave me a huge hug.

It’s moments like that that remind you why you love doing this. Moments like that are worth the added exhaustion that comes so easily these days. It’s worth taking the tiny baby classes no one else seems to favor. The kids are so sweet and they love love. It does so much gold for your soul.

This is only my second year doing recital dances. I still get rather nervous and intimidated. I want my pieces to do justice. I want the dancers to look good, but also for it not to be too easy and lame.

Last year I employed the help of a couple friends, one also being my assistant. It helped me to have someone to bounce ideas off of and to brainstorm with when I knew what shape I wanted but couldn’t figure out what step. We were able to churn my three dances out in a matter of an hour and a half.

This year is quite different. I have an older class, which means it’s more of a challenge. It’s the age where you want to start doing more movement with them on stage, which takes more brain power.

I decided to start with my most complex dance and work my way down. That way, if I didn’t get to them all, it would be easier to get done the ones I would have left. My 6-8 year olds are dancing to “Once Upon a December” from Anastasia, and I’m so obsessed with it. The class today really made me so hopeful that this dance will look good and make the girls feel good, instead of looking like a sad attempt at something cool. We make some fun shapes and work our way around the stage. So far I’ve only just done it in my room, and really just marking it, so hopefully it works out when it’s all put together.

This level is still pretty new to me, so to open my mind to new ideas of what I should incorporate and what is age appropriate without making it too complex or too simple, I employed the help of YouTube. There were some really great pieces on there that were realistic and also made the girls look good. I took some notes from about 5 or so different videos (after watching many more than that) and then put the version of the song we’re using in repeat. I closed my eyes and tried to get a visual of the song. Showing the bits to the girls today really made me hopeful.

This is the costume they’ll be wearing

Which I absolutely love. I’m so excited.

I did some fine tuning to the dance after class today, and also got my Wednesday 5/6 year old class piece done. I found that one a little more difficult since I went from more complex to less complex. It’s also part of why I took some time in between before trying to get it done. I wanted to see the girls, get a feel for the class again, and then take it fresh. They’ll be wearing this costume

And dancing to a song called “The Axiom” from Wall-e. They’re going to be so precious. I’m excited.

My Friday 5/6 year olds are dancing to the Overture from Beauty and the Beast and wearing

Which I’m still pretty excited for, even considering how this past class left me feeling. I’m hopeful I’ll be able to get them to be more focused in the future and that we’ll be able to get this one to look nice too.

My Saturday tiny ones are dancing to a Winnie the Pooh suite and wearing

I haven’t done their piece yet, since I don’t start the young ones as early. This is a good thing, considering I got the two new ones today, but I still want to get it choreographed soon so it’ll be on paper and one less thing to do.

Another, more subliminal, reason I do them early like this is in case anything happens to me, whoever would take over the class would have good notes on the piece, and hopefully the girls would see it enough time to be able to guide them through it. I would hope this doesn’t happen, but each year I seem to get a little worse and I don’t want to take any chances.

I’m already getting overtime at work and the new year has hardly begun. My hope is to be able to stay on top of things there–January is my most difficult month, which things being tense and stressful through May. (If you don’t know, I do taxes. I also live in an area effected by Hurricane Harvey which threw us off majorly.) Between working 40+ hours a week, teaching four ballet classes, (with an 80 minute commute) chiropractor appointments every other week, all while being chronically ill (and for reasons doctors still can’t explain) it’s quite a bit to handle. Not to mention the fact I live alone, and therefore have to handle all household everything myself. It’s exhausting. Every free moment is spent lying down to try and save up any and every extra bit of energy, because I already needed it weeks ago.

Pray for me, y’all. I’m determined, but this won’t be easy.

Still, I’m very happy to be able to have these classes and teach these students. I’m grateful for the overtime to hopefully get all my medical stuff paid off. That’s my main goal this season. I have a good life. Maybe one day I won’t be sick and I can get back to actually dancing myself. Until then, I’ll take what I can get.

Hope y’all are doing really well. Thank you again, so much, to you who have been encouraging me, whether it’s here or on instagram. I appreciate it more than I have words to express and you often bring me to tears with your kindness. I hope you feel the same kindness in your life. You clearly deserve it.

❤️

Days leading up to the new year has had me sort of taking stock and evaluating the year ahead of me. To do so, i look at the years behind me and sort of gauge what I might be able to expect, and what things I’d like to change.

This is normal, right?

This last year really did a number on me, and I don’t know that I let myself fully process or feel any of it. Maybe that’s what makes New Year’s Day so difficult.

As I sit back and evaluate, I try to get myself in the best form of preparation for work. Our busy season begins in January, with it being one of the most difficult months, at least for me. Maybe it won’t be as difficult once I really get the hang for all the yearly reports and things, but it’s still complex. This year, everything is made more complicated because of the hurricane, and next year the laws are going to change. I try to do what I can in advance to make sure I’m the most on top of my game as possible, including choreographing the recital pieces Im responsible for during break, even if I don’t start teaching my students yet. It’s one less things for me to have to worry about getting done when I don’t have any extra time to spare.

Looking ahead to this year was weird for me. It’s the first year that i know going into it that I’m not currently dancing. Yes, I’m still teaching, but depending on how the busy season goes I may or may not have it in me to keep going ahead like I am.

Not being able to dance is the most disheartening thing. Expression is my way of handling how crappy life can be, and dance had become my main avenue for that. I haven’t painted in years, even if I wanted to I can’t sit for that long any more. I write, but I don’t have the time nor the brain power to do so as much as I would like. Before, I would just push through and endure and make the most of things by filling my life with things that made me happy and surrounding myself with people who made me happy, but this past year has made that far more difficult than I ever expected.

It makes me not want to speak, to write. It makes me feel I should stay silent because all I ever do is complain about the same things over and over again. That I don’t have anything to write in a blog post since I’m not even dancing, and things aren’t getting any better or more hopeful, they’re actually getting worse.

But I don’t want to stop this blog. I don’t want to stop my dance story. I may not be able to actively participate currently, but it’s still so much a part of me. It’s in my blood.

I was excited last night to find a favorite online store of mine had a ballet shoe sweater and ballet dancer blouse and dress on sale, so I bought them for myself. It helped me feel a little more connected, even if it is in such a silly way. That maybe this isn’t my end. Maybe I’m not becoming entirely irrelevant. And maybe this year won’t be full of hopeless anti-progression.

We’ll see.

Until then, I’ll do my best to do my best and keep moving forward.

I’m living in denial that Nutcracker is already over for this year.

I’ve learned and grown in ways I never expected, and for which I am so beyond grateful.

I got to dance among legends from our company, counted among their fold. I got to hear incredible stories of the days when our guest artists included people like Julie Kent,  Paloma Herrera, and Li Cunxin. For once, I wasn’t the oldest in the group. I was the youngest, which is what I was used to growing up and which I didn’t realize I craved. Not necessarily to be the youngest, but to have someone older there to take cues from. I was around women who were also dealing with chronic illnesses. I heard stories of their experiences and was able to apply them to my own life. I was shown 9 different personifications of confidence, and realize that it’s okay to be unashamedly who you are. I laughed, genuinely, more than I ever thought I would and told my own stories to people who cared to listen to them. And not listen to reply, but listen to learn more about me, to retain the information.

We had such a good time on stage. Making each other genuinely laugh to keep the smiles real the entire scene, making inside jokes, truly enjoying ourselves throughout this entire production.

While waiting in the wings, the Party Girls started doing a little dance in time to the interlude music. It was stinking cute, so I decided to join in. They loved it, and I loved getting to have fun with them. It melts your heart, knowing these girls are having the time of their lives. They’re committed and truly enjoyed every moment they had in this role, hearts full of dreams for what their future can hold. Telling each other stories of which Clara was their favorite, and how they were somehow connected to one or another or related to one from years before. It was so precious.

Kids are my favorite. They’re innocent and pure and see life through lenses that are all their own. No one has told them who they can or cannot be yet. They love with their whole hearts and don’t apologize for it. Being with kids is healing for my heart, especially ones like these sweet girls.

I got to do the Nutcracker pass-off, which is where someone sneaks the Nutcracker to Drosselmeyer so it appears to appear out of nowhere. It was a bit of a struggle since my costume wasn’t as big as it needed to be, but I don’t think we did too badly. It was fun, too, and Drosselmeyer was so encouraging. It’s amazing how many different ways there are to mess up that hand off, and he’s really good about playing off mistakes, but I didn’t want to be the cause of one.

I also got to see some of my students in between acts, as they were Cherubs and Angels. It made me so proud to see them perform, even if their role was simple or short. They had so much fun and were so happy to be there. Seeing their passionate little spirits light up their faces brought a warmth to my heart I don’t think I could ever find words for.

On Sunday night, I got to be the Nutcracker at the end. For our show, it closes with Clara being woken up by her parents and walked off to bed, while the Nutcracker doll stays center stage and the life size nutcracker salutes in the back. It’s a simple thing, but has become somewhat iconic with the dancers. It symbolizes the very end of the show and is one that most of the dancers mimic. You don’t realize what a rush it’s going to be until you’re walking out there, by yourself, hitting these marks just right, knowing everyone is looking at just you, copying you in the wings, and that you’re closing out this magical show. It’s such a simple part, but it holds so much. My students got a kick out of the fact that it was me the one night, which made me happy.

After the show, I went out to the lobby where dancers are allowed to go out in costume. It’s one of my favorite things, but something I haven’t gotten to do this year. I made one kid cry, but the rest of the feedback was positive, haha! I took pictures with tons of people I didn’t know, and a few I did. It was cool to hear stories of mom’s bringing their daughters for the first time and hearing how much it meant to them, stories of now-elderly dancers-turned-teachers and what ballet means to her and how important it is to stay in the ballet world, even after your body doesn’t let you dance like it used to. I heard one lady say how she has come for so many years, always wanting a picture with the Nutcracker, and now she finally got one. I had Mom’s of past students recognize it was me (how??) and I got to hug my students and take pictures and just make their day. I gave out autographs, which was kinda hard because I’m not too great at signing things other than my name, and I’m really bad at cursive “n”‘s. But it was so fun.

And here we are, at the end of yet another season. My future very uncertain.

My cardiologist said my heart is just fine, but that I do have POTS ever so mildly, which tells me I can push through my heart weirdness in confidence that at least one organ won’t give out. I have to settle for that being enough, at least for now. I’m out of time until after tax season is over.

I’m nervous, but trying not to dwell on how I’m going to get through the spring. I have to just stay on top of myself and do what I need to make sure I’m the best I can be in my current state. It’s frustrating and so stupid that it’s come to this, but here I am. I have to do what’s best for me.

My heart is so full from this year’s performances. I miss my friends already, even more since I don’t really get to see them in classes. I’m excited to get to choreographing over Christmas break for my baby ballet recital pieces. (and my not-so-baby’s.) I’m hoping I have time to get them all completed before we go back. January signals the beginning of the madness, and I don’t want something like this to get pushed to the side.

I hope you all have a Merry Christmas and Happy Holiday’s, whatever it is you celebrate. I hope you are surrounded by people you love, and that you know how much you matter in this world.

Thanks for keeping up with me and my stories. Please remember that your story matters and is ever so important to tell. No one else has your story, and no one can tell it like you do.

I don’t have as many pictures to post as I would like, but here are a few anyway.

I took far fewer pictures than I thought, and those I did have people in them, and I don’t want to throw them on to a blog without permission.

(I took the liberty of including the Clara’s since their moms read the blog 😊)

(Hi y’all, love you guys)

Things are always changing; progressing.

I know this. I’ve known this for a long time. But knowing it doesn’t necessarily mean you understand fully what all you will face in the progression, namely on the emotional side.

In the years past that I’ve done nutcracker, I’ve been in roles dancing alongside the company dancers that in the level classes I took. In all but one year, I was in two roles, typically one in each act. I attended warm up, strapped on pointe shoes, made sure my bun was sprayed down, tucked my ribbons, put on my tutu, and went out there and did the best I could.

This year everything is different, and I’m finding it to be rather bitter sweet. Some of it I expected, some of it I didn’t.

The Bitter:

As we began theater week, it started to sink in how different it really is. I already wasn’t at many rehearsals, I was out of the loop of the inner workings of the company and everything going on, and it actually took me by surprise when show weekend arrived since it didn’t feel I’d done enough yet.

I got to rehearsal anyway, and realized I didn’t need to be there yet since I didn’t do warm up. I mean, I could have done warm up, but if you’ve been keeping up with my posts, you’ll know why I can’t and why I’m not dancing “normal roles” with my friends.

I did my scene in Act 1, and sat and watched the rest. I realized I didn’t even really need to be there, but it felt odd to not stay.

I watched my friends dance the roles I would have danced, and some I had hoped to one day achieve the ability to dance. That’s when the most intense bit of bitterness really sunk in–I’m not dancing. If I’m not dancing, it means I’m not progressing. It means that my dance story has written as much as it is able. It means that dreaming of being any better than I was last season is more than likely a dream that won’t happen. It means I can’t watch my friends and tell myself if I just keep at it I can get there and know it to be true. Because I can’t keep at it. I’m at a completely stand still. My days of knowing the feel of walking backstage in pointe shoes, pressing my tutu down to fit through spaces it wasn’t made for, watching from the side in anticipation of my entrance, being out of breath after completing the roll, feet sore, calves burning, are done. At least, as far as I can see. I hold to the tiny glimmer of hope that maybe I can dance again, but that isn’t very realistic. Doctors don’t know what got me here, and they aren’t very keen on trying to figure out why. They tell me I just have to get used to this being my new normal but they can’t tell me how I got here. It’s infuriating.

The girls will grow on without me. They’ll grow up and graduate, and the little ones will become the big ones. And I’ll stand by and watch them, support them, offer encouragement like the cool Aunt, all while trying to process what my road is and how to walk it.

I’ve known there’s no way to eventually get to the level of those my age. That’s literally impossible. It’s never bothered me before. I guess I just realized how I don’t truly fit in anywhere, not easily anyway, so I’ve sort of carved out my own space. I’ve been accepted. I appreciate that. But all these feelings nag at me, and times like this they become difficult to ignore.

One of my favorite parts of doing the show was going out after in costume. Seeing the looks on the kids faces, especially during school show, lighting up in amazement and wonder of the ballerina in pointe shoes. They didn’t care that I wasn’t a prima ballerina, to them I was something to envy. I miss that. I realized I don’t even have to stay to the end of the show. I’m done after Act 1 Scene 1. I could literally go home. I don’t have anyone coming to see me dance, I’m not really even dancing. Not much, anyway. It’s character, not ballet. Something I could do in a play. I’m not the ballerina in the pointe shoes anymore.

The Sweet:

Even though I’m not an auditioned role, I’m not in the official company, I still get to be a part. I’m a Party Parent, which seems simple enough, but has been fulfilling in ways I never imagined it could be. These ladies have been so welcoming and inclusive to me, the newbie. Many of them have been doing this over 20 years, veterans of the trade by far. They tell stories in the dressing room of when we had Julie Kent and Paloma as guest artists, days I wish so much i could have known myself. They help me out by making sure I have all the flashy accessories I need for the role, and make sure my costume is fastened properly, even in all its complexities.

They make it fun. They make it hilarious. The smiles on stage are real because we’re all making each other laugh so much. They help me make sure I know what I’m doing and help me with things I struggle with grasping. They want to help me be my best, even as I stumble through something they could do in their sleep.

My sweet party girls are absolute dreams. I have two, and I’ve known them for a bit before the show, which made me excited to get to be their “mom” but I never realized how good it would be for my heart.

One of my sweet girls came up to me the first rehearsal in costume and told me how beautiful I looked. She told me my costume was her favorite and looked at me with eyes of wonder. I realized that I don’t have to be the “ballerina in pointe shoes” to be something of wonder. That in that moment, her eyes weren’t alight looking at the Sugar Plum Fairy, or one of the company girls. She was looking at me. It’s not my dancing that does that, it’s my example.

For so long it made my heart hurt that I didn’t get to be involved in the girls lives as much. They mean so much to me, and being there for them makes me feel like I have some sort of purpose. But in that moment I realized I still have that, just in a different way. A way that was very much so unexpected.

I may not fit in anywhere, I may be somewhat of an odd duck, I may be different, but I still matter. I’m still important. Me being there still matters, and if I weren’t there it’d be felt.

I have a lot to learn, but I’m grateful for where I am.

I hope you realize that for yourself, as well.

A few other things from this week:

We had snow on Friday! For those of you who don’t know, I live in South Texas, and snow isn’t something we see. There was one freak snow storm in 2004, which was the first time in 100 years. I never thought I’d see it again in my lifetime, let alone after only 13 years. I happened to be at a sleepover with 9 other dancers when it snowed, which made it so much fun. We thought it would all be melted by morning, but we woke up to a nice blanket covering the neighborhood. It was incredible.

We had our school performances Friday morning, but due to the snow the first one got cancelled. I was grateful for the extra time to play in this “winter” miracle, but also glad we had the second show. How incredible to get to walk through snow to get to our nutcracker performance? That’s something I never thought I’d have.

The Clara’s this weekend we’re incredible. I’m so proud of all their hard work they’ve put in. There were moments when I caught myself near tears, watching from the balcony or from backstage, so overwhelmed with pride for how much these girls have worked for this and how well they executed it all. You could tell they were absolutely having the best day of their lives. I wish I could have captured that moment and bottled it up so I could revisit it later.

We have one more weekend of shows. I don’t know if I’m ready for it to be over. Even in its differences and oddities this year, being involved fills a void in me.

Life is changing. It’s complex. It’s unclear and very often painful. But these moments where life feels sweet are coveted. I want to hold on to them while they’re here.

Here’s some pictures!

I told y’all I’d have a post of the class I took last week, and here I am just now getting to write it

My apologies.

Safe to say life has been a little hectic, but better late than never I suppose.

My back decides last Wednesday was the perfect day to hurt more than it ever has. It was so bad that I had to actually utilize the stool during my 5-6 year old class and sit while my assistants did the brunt of the demonstrating. I felt bad since they’ve been rehearsing so hard and are dealing with injuries of their own. I literally couldn’t teach without them, which is becoming increasingly clearer as each class goes by.

The kids were well behaved considering, so that was nice. Only a few kept talking, but overall they’re working so hard to be better. It’s such a big class, making it a challenge from the start. But I love them so much. They make my days better.

My friend who was supposed to take her first class that day didn’t show. I could have gone home, I had every excuse to do so, but I didn’t. Largely because I said on Instagram that I was going. I figured I had to at least try.

I did better than I expected, especially considering mental clarity wasn’t the best. It was so great to be back among my fellow adult ballet friends. I don’t think I let myself fully feel how much I miss being there. I excuse it away with optimism instead of letting myself fully feel everything that comes along with these changes. One of my dearest dance friends was next to me at the barre, like old times at our old studio. It felt so right.

I only made it through barre, and part of it I had to alter to what I was able to do. (Grand bettements on the left side didn’t exist.) My teacher was more than okay with that.

Being at the barre, going brought these fluid motions I have work hard to try and perfect for the last six years, hearing these classical renditions of show tunes and hearing my dance teacher telling us corrections in her British accent, it’s everything I never want to lose. It felt so good.

I only made it through barre, though i still managed a compliment from the teacher. I sat in and watched a bit of center, but realized my mental clarity fading in increasing measure the more I sat there. I struggled to focus, and being a full class the studio was limited on space anyway.

I sat outside in the foyer for a bit, spoke to some of the parents I hadn’t seen in so long, gave my brain a rest so I could focus enough to drive home.

I miss it, y’all. I’m grateful to still get to teach, and to pop in when I’m able, but dang I miss it.

My friend is in town for the holiday and we met up on Wednesday to work on some choreography we’ve been toying with for a bit.

It felt so good to just be there, with really good music, and good company that understands how sacred that can be. My heart had yearned for this. It seemed to soar.

We were in the studio for about three hours, much of that I wasn’t dancing. Even though my heart was on cloud nine and I longed so much to just move to the music, reality is my body still sucks, and I need to be careful.

We got a good bit of choreography down solid, which is really exciting. It’s a song I’ve had from one of my absolutely favorite artists. She sent it her demo when I was going through a really rough time and it’s just really special to me. I waited for her new album to come out so I could openly use the song, but it didn’t make the cut.

Out of respect, I don’t want to post anything from it. It’s not my song and I don’t want it to get copied or stolen off the interwebz.

But the song still moves me, and I want to put movement to it. I recruited this friend because I love her style and think she could really grasp what it is the song makes us feel and give it an image through dance.

It felt so good to move. To express. To do the little bit I could let myself do and just go for it. Equally, it was so great to see how much my friend has grown in the time I’ve known her, and to hear stories of all she’s learning and really see the development in her character and art. She is living.

I’m still struggling from the exertion, but it was worth it. I’m taking class on Wednesday since it’s my friends first class, so hopefully that doesn’t end up being too much.

It’s crazy to see how fast my life turned to this from what it used to be.

I’ve got my kids recital costumes picked out and I’m working on picking music and trying to choreograph their stuff. That should be fun.

I’m currently wearing a heart monitor for the next two days to see if it picks up anything weird. I’m glad it’s only two days but also wish it were longer. I don’t know if anything will show up on my two most laid back days of this entire month, but oh well.

I’ll keep y’all updated.

In an effort to try and keep myself centered with all my usual methods having to be halted, I have begun meditating. Not extensively, just 3 minutes a day to sort of refocus my mind and keep myself out of the “dark place” as much as I can.

I’ve found it beneficial to the anxiety I’ve been feeling in increasing measure since being diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, and also while trying to find a doctor that can tell me what else is wrong with me. It helps me to remind myself of the good things in life. That I may not have control of anything whatsoever, but that I’m alive and that is something. It helps remind me that I’m not alone in this fight, but that other wonderful people fight similar battles as me, and if they can fight so can I.

The other day, the person who leads the little sessions made a comment about the importance of beginnings. The irony of the timing was not lost on me, and I loved what he had to say. He mentioned that in meditation, the further people get along in it, the more difficulties they can find in focusing their minds. The way they remedy that is by remembering what it was like to be a beginner. To go back to when they didn’t know what to expect, when everything was new.

It’s like that in ballet. Sometimes you get past the “beginner’s rut” and start to get the hang of it all and you find yourself getting discouraged. You feel like you hit these plateaus and can’t get any farther. You start to doubt and struggle in a new way, thinking you’re not advancing fast enough or that the others around you are so much better than you. That you’ll never be that.

But you have to remind yourself of what it was to be a beginner. Of course when everything is new you’ll see improvement more often. It’s logical. Similar to babies seeming to grow so fast since there are so many milestones to be reached in the first few years. It can give the appearance that they don’t grow as much as they get older, but really it just isn’t as visible. Part of the growth comes in the enduring, sticking it out and not giving in or making rash decisions just to feel like something is happening.

Take a second. Remind yourself of what it was like to begin. When everything was new and exciting and also terrifying. Don’t forget how far you’ve come, and set goals for things still ahead, even if it’s something as seemingly simple as committing to a certain amount of classes a week or holding a releve passe for x amount of seconds.

This is what you dreamed of. You’re living it. It’s reality. Don’t let yourself forget how magical it al really is. ❤️

I wasn’t sure if I would get to post a blog with this title.

Yet, here I am, albeit very different from years past.

I hadn’t been in the downtown studio since the “great flood of 2017.” It’s known by many other names, most of which I won’t name here. Essentially, there was a really heavy rain back in June that inundated the sewers and flooded downtown in a few different ways. Our studio fell victim, and we ended up having to replace the floors and much of the furniture. Two rooms were spared, though we aren’t sure how. (No costumes were harmed.)

The new floor is incredible. Perfectly sprung and smooth, the creaky floors we used to know are now gone, and the different holes and divets have been removed and replaced.

It made me wish even more that I was able to dance the roles I could have had if my body wasn’t rejecting me, knowing that pirouettes would be perfection on this floor. On the same side of that coin, I am so grateful to be back in the company studio, a place that has begun to feel more like home than I ever expected. Especially since so much of what I know to be familiar has been destroyed or broken beyond repair, having these studios be exactly as I know them to be (or in this case, better, but with the essentials the same) has been good for my soul.

Much is different, though; I’m no longer considered company, many of my friends have graduated and aren’t there, I’m rehearsing with adults, some of whom have been doing this role since I was the age of the youngest party girls. I’m not in program pictures, the costumes actually fit me without alteration because they’re made for adult bodies, rehearsals are shorter and less than what I’ve been used to, dressing rooms will be different.

Yet, I’m still here. I’m still involved. I’m still getting to do something I love so much, in spite of the blows my health has thrown at me. I still get to put on a costume, get on stage, and perform. To say I’m grateful is such an understatement.

I have two party girls in my “family”, both of which are two of my “babies.” It makes me so happy getting to do this role with two of the younger girls that have already stolen a piece of my heart. I’m so excited.

We aren’t allowed to take pictures of rehearsals, but if I could have, I definitely would have gotten a picture from my perspective during the end of the scene when all the party girls dance a part with Clara. The girl that was running Clara that time is one of my assistants, and also has a piece of my heart. I’ve heard her tell me how she used to look up to the older girls, and how now she’s the older girl, and how she wants to be nice to the younger ones since she remembers what it was like. And I saw it. There was this moment where it hit me like a semi-truck loaded down with emotion. These younger girls, watching this beautiful, confident older girl, doing the same moves she was doing, but as different roles, in different shoes. Their eyes alight with the dreams of doing what she’s doing, her memories reflected in theirs as she truly lived in the moment.

And this was just a rehearsal.

I don’t cry, but if I did I would have been a blubbering mess in that moment.

I didn’t get any pictures of my costume, or anything from rehearsal except for the one with the puppy, Riley, that one of the other Party Mom’s brought.

When I walked in to the costume room, he was in his little bag. As soon as he saw me, his tail wagged like it would fly off his little body, and he was so excited he almost couldn’t stand it. At this point, I didn’t know who he belonged to, and I said, “Who’s puppy? I’m gonna pet it before he explodes!” and then when I found his owner and got permission, I picked him up as he licked my face and I melted into a puddle of cuteness.

I thought I saved the picture, but I guess I didn’t 😭

Instead, have a completely irrelevant, shameless plug for my shirts. 

Thank you to those who have placed orders already! This has been such an exciting adventure so far. Y’all make my heart so happy. 

Hopefully I’ll have pictures from rehearsal soon. I don’t believe I have rehearsals this weekend due to program pictures, but I need to look at my schedule before I miss something. That would be bad.