About two years ago I decided I had to do something new. I was unhappy, feeling isolated, and fed up with what I had just accepted to be my reality. I was lazier, fatter, and sadder than I had ever been before, and I couldn’t help but wonder what the hell happened? This was a general wake-up call for me, and I began writing more, participated in NaNoWriMo, starting running regularly again, became more active in seeking out things I enjoy, and decided to pick something back up that I hadn’t had the guts to try in years: ballet.
I’ve always wished I continued with performance arts like acting, singing, comedy, or dance. Let me be clear, I was never good at any of these things. I’m a moderately decent musician, but that is the extend of my performance-oriented talent. Despite that, I really enjoy them. I was in drama club in high school, took voice lessons for a few years, and even gave stand-up a try in my early 20s. Ballet was something I started as a small kid and then dropped after a year or so because they suddenly wanted me to do more than twirl in my tutu. My aunt was my first ballet teacher as a kid. She herself was an incredible dancer with an impressive history, so I’m sure my yelling and screaming and refusal to do even half a barre really sat well with her.