I think I’m going through a little ballroom withdrawal. It’s been weeks and weeks since I took a group class. My last few private lessons were a week apart due to Teacher going to comps or having other scheduling conflicts. And I haven’t been going to the studio to practice. I have all sorts of excuses, including the fact that I’m still doing things at home like the journey to splits challenge. I used to practice before and/or after group class. It worked well for me. But now that I’m not taking group, I find it’s hard to motivate myself to go to just practice on my own. This is why I fail at being a gym member. I’m much more likely to go if there is a class or something where I have other people to support me and hold me accountable. But going by myself to work by myself? I feel like I may as well save the gas and stay at home. This withdrawal coupled with anxiety over USDC and reading online how often others practice or have private lessons has me once again pondering a question my demons obsessively taunt me with: at what point can I call myself a dancer?
Being able to identify myself as a dancer is one of those conundrums that should be so obvious and easy, but the demons in my head twist and complicate it. Deep down inside, underneath all of the negative noise, I believe exists a dancer. My true self. But there is so much noise covering up that image! I listen to people who have made dancing their career or who were dancing before they were walking, and I watch videos or live performances. And I can hear and see that these people are dancers. No question, you can see it in their faces and in their bodies and hear it in their voices. I see and hear joy and passion and complete commitment. In myself, I see those things too but it seems not to the level of intensity that I see in those I would identify as dancers. Because I also see fear and doubt and anxiety in me, and I allow those things to hold me back. And I think, a real dancer wouldn’t let that happen. A real dancer would still go practice.
“A real dancer.” That’s what I wish I was. That’s what I hope my true self is under all that dark noise. I can already guess what my awesome family and friends would say. “What are you talking about?? Of course, you’re a real dancer! Hello, first places!” Where is the line though? Was I a dancer when I was going to clubs in college and making up moves to hip hop and house music? Was I a dancer when I first started ballroom? Or was I just a girl who liked to dance? Some say you have to be born a dancer. Is that the reason I question whether I can identify myself as a dancer? Because I wasn’t born one? I do have family history in my favor. There is a love of dance on both sides, and even some competition experience. So maybe that isn’t the issue.
Maybe it’s physical. I don’t have that typical dancer body. I’m awkward and I’ve got a booty! Although I’m working on it, I am not very flexible. I can’t do a split, I can’t lift my leg very high, I don’t have the greatest balance. These things are mainly due to the fact that I haven’t been dancing since I was a baby. My body didn’t get the proper conditioning to be able to do those cool moves that “real dancers” can do. Hell, my knees ache sometimes when it rains! So do I need a different body in order to transition from “girl who likes to dance” to “dancer”? My demons say yes, too bad, so sad. But another part of me pipes up and strongly disagrees, insisting dancers come in all shapes and sizes, and I have yet to hear the rule that you must be able to do a split to call yourself a “dancer.” Ok, so maybe the physical just develops with time and the longer I go down the dancer path, the closer I’ll get to hips that will allow me to do a split.
I think the main issue is my lack of internal validation makes my need for external validation much stronger. I need to feel accepted in the world I’m trying to be a part of. I’m terrified of being rejected from it. I hesitate to declare “I am a ballroom dancer!” because I am afraid of someone in that world overhearing and responding “yeah, right.” Now, the logical part of me knows that would not happen. It knows I have proven my skill, my passion and my commitment, and those I have gotten to know in the ballroom world have been nothing but supportive of my desire to call myself a dancer. The emotional part of me, however, is still lost on stormy seas. If only it would peek over the edge of the boat and see it isn’t lost at all; the demons just covered the boat with a dark shroud and have been howling to hide the fact that land is in sight. Unfortunately, emotion doesn’t respond too well to logic. So the storms continue. For now.
In the meantime, baby steps. Not too loud now, but I have to try…
I am a dancer.