Missing A Beat
Waiting in the Wings. Photo by author.
Spring 2023
We are working on our 9 min Lilac Corps piece and it was tremendously challenging. Due to my group advancing in technique and climbing up to the next level, it felt as if we had more time to work on the dance, opposed to when we were more inexperienced and learning choreography would take 5 x as long and we would spend an entire class on one step. I was in the very front for the beginning and it was nerve-wracking for me, since as you know from my entire blog, I struggle with confidence and being in the spotlight, literally.
There were also a lot of technical challenges and all of the dancers were dancing on pointe besides me, again. I hated that I couldn’t advance on pointe. My foot was acting up and I was bummed about it but what could I do?
“You must learn the artistry now that you don’t have to spend as much time on the choreography because you all are getting better.” The teacher said and we stood around wondering what she meant. I was exhausted from a late night shift, yet again. I was wearing a navy sweatshirt and pants (even though this technically wasn’t allowed after the first 15 min of class) because I had felt very out of shape this month.
“You have to stretch out your movements more, add more dynamics to some movements with the music and less to others. Not just doing a plie, but if it's during a part where the cello slows, you plie deeply with the music, not just complete the action of a plie in one or two counts with no emphasis.” The teacher selected a student and asked why her arms were just straight across during a part of her solo. “Instead you could dip you elbows a bit and it gives the illusion of a long flowing arms.” She changed the students arms and we all saw the drastic difference it creates.
A few students yawned and we went exhaustingly over everyones solo (including my understudy part) and I decided I HAVE TO WATCH THE VIDEO OF THE BREADCRUMB VARIATION because I am being left in the dust and would soon be swept away, just like a breadcrumb. I blew my falling down hair out of my face and sighed at my messy bun in the mirror compared to everyone's pristine buns.
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I have to quit The Sleeping Beauty ballet which brings me to tears and I feel as if all my hard work is completely flushed down the drain. The rehearsal and performance were on the days I had to work (the few days at work they would give me that is) and I couldn’t afford to miss them because it was the only income I had coming in. My coworkers, despite taking plenty of vacations, wouldn’t give me any extra shifts even though I was having constant, ailing family and no vacations. I needed a new job that would value everyone appropriately. I was sad to be away so much from ballet. It literally broke my heart but I was so desperate to not drown in my bills in this thriving and expensive city.
I told the head ballet teacher about my situation and she said it was fine and not to worry and to work as much as I had to. I hated not being able to do the performance after working on it for four months. I was slowly sinking more “in the red” on finances and it seemed the harder I worked the less money I made. Or at least it felt that way. It honestly crushed my soul but it was the only option I had and it felt the harder I tried to pursue alternate jobs so I could perform, the worse everything seemed to backfire. It all was pretty overwhelming.
However, I needed money and I knew I had to leave my current job for a better one, so I could work like a dog all summer and save money for ballet in the fall. I had to tell everyone else and I was all watery-eyed when I was talking to Ms. LeGrand and she said “I’m sorry, I know you really wanted to dance this performance.” And I burst into tears and said I did but I had to do what I had to do and make money and it hurt and I missed dance everyday but that's life.” And I walked with Ms. LeGrand in the night summertime streets, talking about dance and life and I knew it might be the last time I saw her because she was moving away soon.
I was thinking about a roommate again. Or figuring out how to work two jobs. I kept getting tricked into pyramid-scheme interviews for marketing or travel work on the internet and couldn’t get a second job to save my life. It was such a trying time.
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I visited the local book store store which I haven’t been to in a while and I was so sad as they had taken away the dance section of books entirely and replaced it with “urban farming.”
“Well, that’s depressing,” I mumbled and did a few laps to make sure they indeed did not just move them. But the only “musical” section they had left was about learning to play the piano or rock and roll memoirs.
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The hustle downtown is HARD
I had grown sad from not dancing for three months now and I was missing it more than anything. My foot had bothered me so much I was unable to be active —besides work—for almost three months. Definitely no running, gym or dance. A longing grew from within, so strong I watched the world go by and could hardly think of anything else but dance. I felt empty. I just longed to feel healthy and dance and to not be injured. And I wasn’t even that injured, to be honest.
My job was so exhausting I couldn’t do anything on my days off, including running errands. I was so checked out that I was unable to keep up any social relationships as well and I would just sit on my front porch in the mornings in a dreary and blurry haze, mindlessly drinking coffee. I watched the women go into the nail salon across the street at all hours of the day. They had their sweatpants on with their vibrantly colored nails and corny middle class cars as they left with their nails filled, painted and lacquered for their day jobs. I never wanted to be them. I didn’t mind going to get my feet worked on for dance or getting a massage but I never wanted to be those women that get long fake nails, drive a car they can’t afford and put it all on social media pretending to be rich and glamorous when they are not.
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I had missed dance and finally made it back to classes where I was quickly, once again and forever, humbled by the pace of class. Most of the class had gone to summer intensive or classes at other studios, which greatly showed. I hadn’t danced in four months. I had a new teacher who was a professional company dancer and who had come home to teach after being injured. His class was so hard I spent most of the time praying he would make it easier and it always seemed to backfire and he would make the combinations harder and harder. In fact, they were so difficult that I asked one of the advanced dancers to go with us and she completely ignored me and walked to the back of the line because she wanted to go with her friend and show off. I’m so tired of the most advanced dancers not offering to help those that are least advanced. After I asked her to help us and she ignored me I secretly prayed I would be better than her one day and I vowed to never treat anyone like that. (I understand how terribly immature this is). Our new teacher was considerate, respectful and patient. He stayed after to help me and would reshow me the combinations again so I could video them, even though it seemed no one else needed the help. He would demonstrate multiple times until I understood when he could easily ask me not to be in a class at that pace. Instead, he made sure I wasn’t left behind. It was so kind I could have cried.
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Ballet is getting grueling. I am feeling like my age and body are perpetually struggling, although my knowledge and skill are constantly increasing. I feel like I am in a constant plateau because of it, understandably so. I work endlessly at my job. Serving drinks with bells and whistles to tourists alongside salmon chowder. I spend any down time wondering if I will be successful or what even successful means anymore? I long to make more money so I can take care of my parents and family. I long to have the freedom to dance seven days a week and dream of living next to the dance studios. Life keeps spinning at an unprecedented rate and I sometimes feel as if I won’t be able to achieve what I desire on earth. I might not ever be a millionaire who can spend their life helping out those who have nothing. I might not ever be an incredible dancer that gets to go to class seven days a week. And I might not ever have a dream job. I wonder if people who look at me serving tables question me or my life, since I am a bit older now. I feel a bit sad at the thought of another birthday where I spent most of the day not remembering it was my birthday. I don’t know why but I think deep down I’m scared to age, to feel “undesirable” and cast out by society on every level.
I miss dancing every day of my life. I am forgetting combinations, how to move, the feel of music and the smell of the studio. I miss Ms. Legrand and I am beating myself up that I didn’t write down every single piece of advice she had said and every combination. I will keep having to work my tail off for another month and then will be able to go back to class. I have a doctor's appointment for my toe, where if they remove my toenail, hopefully it will heal in time. Oh the woes of trying to be a dancer, that will never ever ever end lol.
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I had finally received the appropriate help from a sports medicine doctor. I waited for over a month for an appointment and had to commute an hour to his office. He told me in a very matter of fact and hilariously honest and direct demeanor, as such doctors have, that my toe would never get better and wasn’t getting better at all. I said would you mind looking again and make sure it isn’t already healing? and before I even finished he looked and said no. I laughed out loud. He told me I could either live with it or take a pill for 3 months that has an 85% success rate. I told him I was already taking another medication and he told me the medicine I have been taking for the past year has a 10 % success rate. I had to agree to a blood test, pass it, then I could start the medication. I was nervous about the blood test but passed with flying colors, I think. I now can expect a healthy toenail in less than three months and I am beyond thrilled! Oh the small feats…or feets ….in dance, I tell you!
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Oh dance is getting so complicated and intense I find myself floundering in classes, wondering if my poor brain can comprehend the madness of advanced ballet or if it will merely cast me aside as a failure of the dance world, knowing I gave it my best effort and knowing I couldn’t make the “cut.” Or perhaps these are thoughts one has when struggling to progress in ballet. I adored my new teachers terribly and had the never ending fear of anything in my life going wrong that could potentially end my dance hobby. Ie: another plague, an illness, having to suddenly move, etc. On and on. Sometimes the potential “what-if'' scenarios could morph into a whole different storyline at times. The fear of something I loved being ripped away always remained in the back of my head. COVID had made me drastically realize that I have taken a lot of things for granted. I had spent countless hours in my room contemplating life, waiting for things to be “normal” again. I can hardly write out my next thought but I even imagined a world where we could no longer dance. I couldn’t even fathom such a thought as I watched others trying to exercise over “zoom.” What a nightmare that was as I thought back to when I was supposed to finish my degree was the year of Covid. And my degree was in dance. And the school assured me I could do it over Zoom and I absolutely refused. Then Covid lasted where I lived for three years on and off, in severe quarantine. I wish I could have that time back, in some way shape or form so I could have used it to increase my dance skills. I can’t get back yesterday and I can’t get back youth; my body marches onward with time and wisdom.