dancer

I've mentioned my divorce from ballet. It's been about a year now since I left it, but if it's been a year and I still can't breathe when I think about not going back, maybe it's never going to leave me.

The thing is that I can't just get rid of it. There's something about growing up in dance. About your reflection being the only version of yourself you know and care about, this vibrancy that fills up the air around you when you're moving. Goodness, I miss movement. In that musical A Chorus Line, there's this line in "The Music and the Mirror" and every time I hear it it gives me chills.

"God, I'm a dancer."

It's just, like...I don't have the words to describe how much a part of me dancing is. It's not this hobby I had growing up, it's this thing, you know? This thing that seeps into your skin and your feet and you can't wash it off. Once you're a dancer, you stay that way. "God, I'm a dancer."

And now I'm just thinking of all these years where it was the only thing I understood, and I loved it. I still love it. I'm remembering the things that stuck with me, and some of the words Mejia said to me in that last year before I left.

When we were warming up on the stage before Nutcracker:
"You look so happy when you dance."
"That's because I love it"
When I came crying to tell him I couldn't keep dancing because of my schedule:
"You've got something special about you when you dance. You're eyes just light up and you have this energy. You can see that you love it, and you're always welcome here."

And all this time I've been trying to get away from it all because if I couldn't dance there what was the point? I've been trying to convince myself that I'll move on because I have to, but what if I never do? What if it's impossible for me to keep going with my life without dance in it?

God, I'm a dancer.