On A Break: Ballet

Share this post on:

I’ve wanted to be a ballerina since I was about 7 years old.

What was not to like, you know? Beautiful women, creating beautiful movement with statuesque physique in GORGEOUS costumes. A partner to lift you into the air and make you feel like flying…

I wanted it all.

I didn’t care that getting there meant spending hours of time training. I coerced my parents into sending me to summer intensives where I’d dance all day, and I spent countless hours watching YouTube videos of ballerinas.

I quit sports in order to take more classes and rehearse more. I skipped sleepovers, dinners out with friends, parties. But I’ll admit I didn’t ALWAYS pick dance. I always had this craving of “normalcy”, and I really believed I could have my cake and eat it too.

There’s really not much I regret as far as my dance training (besides not sticking with tap and not taking more hip hop).

What’s hard now, is the distinctive distance I feel from my former life as a bunhead.

Guys – I had it bad. My fellow bunheads know what I’m talking about. I coveted Yumiko leotards, I meticulously sewed pointe shoes, and experimented with the best way to do my bun. In class I was laser focused, probably coming off as unapproachable every now and then.

I wanted it, and I was determined to get it.

Except, right around the end of high school my frame of mind started to shift. For years I’d been given amazing opportunities and beautiful roles to dance. I recognize my privilege. I just never felt “enough”. I wanted to be the star, but somehow I always felt like I was falling short. That is, until my first big chance – and a role I am forever grateful to have experienced – being the Sugar Plum Fairy in my studio’s first ever Nutcracker performance. I worked my ass off to perform that to the highest caliber I could. But even then, I felt outshined. I felt like I hadn’t fully captured audiences the way a prima was supposed to.

What I was experiencing though, was growing success in contemporary works. I’ll never know what it is, but my teachers were seeing something in me, and they were challenging me to do more with those roles.

In college I felt I blossomed with contemporary work. I had unforgettable opportunities working with in-house and guest choreographers, I thrived in the student showcase setting, and I relished the challenges that came with complicated phrasing and foreign movement.

Despite a small feeling of accomplishment, I craved the same attention from my ballet teachers. Compliments weren’t really a big thing. Honestly the closest I got to a compliment was “I’ve never seen you dance like that”. But the actions of my contemporary mentors made it clear that they believed in me, something I didn’t feel from the ballet mentors I idolized.

I wasn’t getting passed over for all parts. It would be irresponsible if I didn’t acknowledge that I was getting stage time many of my peers wanted. What I mean to say is that I didn’t feel good about it. I felt like an imposter, a try hard. But that’s exactly what I was doing – trying so hard. I tried so hard in every rehearsal to get all the steps just right, the aesthetic just right. I tried so hard just to be grateful to be in the room – but the drive for perfectionism I know I share with so many dancers often left me with immense disrespect for myself.

I could feel my attitude about my beloved art form changing. I started to resent things I couldn’t change, not focusing on what I could. It got to a point where my mental health was suffering so much that I regularly came home in a horrible mood, doubting every piece of work I’d done that day. Doubting my abilities and deeming myself incapable – a naïve girl chasing a dream she wasn’t fit for, not willing to recognize the truth.

My senior year of college I got what I consider to be my “big ballet break”. A choreographer was creating an entirely new ballet, and I’d been cast as the lead. I was going to get a chance to do it all. I was OVER THE MOON with excitement. My anxiety was spiking but so was my adrenaline.

I worked so hard preparing for that performance.

And then it was finally time.

I am a melodramatic fool and vastly too hard on myself, and therefore I get severely disappointed at the tiniest things. In the first show my pointe shoe ribbons came untucked. I’m neurotic and usually sew them in, but I had a quick change and didn’t have 2 minutes to spare. I tried to brush it off (after crying, naturally) and come back strong on night 2.

I spent almost the entirety of that piece on stage, living my best life, playing with the orchestra, my own artistry, and the audience. When I took my bow, I felt good.

But it also felt entirely too bittersweet.

It almost felt like in that moment, I knew this was it for my ballet career. I wasn’t going to be cast in the roles I wanted, in the ballets I adored. I wasn’t right, there was someone better. Someone who worked hard, who looked better, who fit the role best.

All I wanted was a moment of praise from two of my professors that I respected so greatly. I thought that’s all I needed to feel good about myself. I was stupid. I had so many friends and family and mentors telling me I danced beautifully, that I was special. But for some reason it was never enough. Because I had set my mind on something so inconsequential, I was taking for granted the people who went out of their way to show me how much they cared.

At the end of it all I was tired of the struggle to impress people who couldn’t give me those chances, that praise, for one reason or other. I was tired of looking in the mirror and struggling with what I saw. I was tired of constantly worrying how I looked compared to someone else. How I danced compared to someone else.

By no means am I cured of these anxieties. Obviously I still have them – I’m sure I’ve mentioned them once, twice, maybe 5 times by now. But I felt like I couldn’t handle the way ballet exacerbated them much longer. I needed to walk away. It wasn’t bringing me joy.

I don’t know if I’ve walked away for good, or if there’s more ballet to come in my future. I genuinely enjoy teaching young dancers ballet technique, and focus on showing them love along with the discipline. And hell, I might even be performing in a Nutcracker this year (my first full length)! But when I left college, I could recognize the unspoken need for a reprieve.

I miss it. Genuinely there are days where I actually want to put on some tights, a leotard and some pointe shoes. Ballet made this self-conscious little nut feel beautiful and graceful. It was empowering in it’s own unique way.

It’s so hard for me to admit all this. It’s embarrassing how much it bothers me when people ask if I’m a ballerina, because it feels like a goal that I never fulfilled. I’ve been reminded over and over again that the road to success is not straight, and there will be many surprising twists and turns along the way. Right now I’m just meandering down the trail wondering where it will take me, hoping to see a few old friends, and maybe my old flame ballet, along the way.