Reconciliation With My Metaphorical Ex-Lover

The Journey That Brought Me Back to Ballet Class

At the moment I’m beginning this piece, it’s been exactly one year since I officially handed in my resignation and made the announcement that I was walking away from a career in ballet. I didn’t fully realize the anniversary until I was browsing Instagram and saw the little notification that popped up on the activity page, inviting me to put my post from exactly one year ago onto my story. There it was- the tiny stamp of the gold-hued photo I had so carefully chosen for the occasion, with seven comments’ length of a caption. I had originally told myself that it was getting late and I would forgo writing for the night, but seeing that monumental post of mine again made me realize just how important and significant it was that I start telling this story on this day, truly marking the end of one cycle and the beautiful dawn of a new one.

Mind you, this isn’t the story of me leaving ballet- not yet. I have a plan for when I want to put that tale on paper, and while I hope that time comes soon, this is a different- and perhaps more concise- tale of an important transformation of mentality and perspective that I experienced over the past three hundred and sixty-five days.

It seems that everyone has to go through at least one major breakup in their life- one where you’re severed from what you love more than anything else in the world (perhaps for all the wrong reasons) in order to help you learn and grow and move on to what is truly resonant with your ultimate happiness. After a lot of reflection on the topic, I feel like ballet was that breakup for me. I don’t have the romantic breakup experience that your typical nineteen-year-old has, but somehow this one major metaphorical parting of ways seems to have made me somewhat of an expert on the subject.

As I said before (and often say in my blog posts), I’ll go more into detail about the process of that “breakup” in a different article. I’m picking up this story right after I sent off my official “I’m done.” Much like a real breakup, I couldn’t stand to have ballet- my metaphorical ex- on my radar at all. I didn’t want to see it; I didn’t want to hear it; I didn’t want to think about it. (Which was made more difficult by the fact that it was kind of a terrible time to have that mentality, seeing as I left right before the Christmas season, when Nutcracker music is utterly inescapable.) 

I unfollowed most ballet-related accounts and ballet dancers on my Instagram, and closed my eyes to what old ballet friends were doing. I locked my pointe shoes and leotards away. I deleted ballet scores off of my music libraries. I tucked all of the ballet photos of myself into an album on my phone that I avoided like the plague. There was a lot of pain involved at that point in the process, and I was still slightly unsure about my decision, so I didn’t want anything around that could make me regret doing something that couldn’t be taken back. 

The truth was that I was going into a crazy new world that I knew nothing about, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to succeed in it. I didn’t want to flop horribly as a commercial dancer and end up pining for my career as a ballet dancer- something I at least had an in for. Also, my current feelings and opinions about my dance career were so new to me that I was afraid I was in a passing phase; worried that one day the spell would wear off, my obsessive love for ballet would return, and I’d hate myself forever for walking away from it. As such, I knew that I needed to purge any and all remaining ballet obsession from my system. As I look back, I realize that it was a good thing that I did that- I definitely needed that detox.

Additionally, one of my reasons for switching to commercial dance was that I wanted to explore different styles and jobs. I didn’t want to go through this new career being typecast as “the classical girl.” I knew a handful of people that walked away from a ballet career and into a new realm of dance around the same time I did, but continued to take regular ballet classes. I didn’t have the same mentality about doing so as they did. Drop-in classes are expensive, and instead of using the limited space on my card for something I had been training exclusively in for the past five years, I wanted to take classes in as many other styles as I could, developing my versatility and making myself hiriable for more types of jobs. I knew I would be competing for work against people who had been training in those other styles much more intensively than I had, and for much longer. I wanted to catch up, not hang out where I’d been.

Returning to the breakup metaphor, after the initial pain and fear of the break faded, I went through a period of hating ballet. It was much like the way one would hate a toxic ex once they’re not afraid of running back to them anymore, but instead have fully realized all the pain that person has caused them. When I and those around me noticed that I felt and acted so much lighter, happier, and full of relief that I didn’t have to endure the life and schedule of a ballet dancer anymore, and when severing myself from the situation made me realize just how much pain and stress it really caused me, I began to hate the culture of ballet (not the movement and dancing itself) with as much fervor as I had once loved it. I thought anyone that willingly participated in it for the full length of a career was insane, even though I was fully prepared and would’ve died to be one of those people. My hypocrisy was not lost on me, but I always knew that ballet would be a part of my life again eventually. I just needed to hate it for a while to purge all unhealthy ties from my system. 

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My hypocrisy was not lost on me, but I always knew that ballet would be a part of my life again eventually.

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My feelings of spite and hatred were a bit of a defense mechanism, because I had loved ballet so much, and that fact was widely known with my close peers. I didn’t want anyone questioning my decision- thinking that I was confused or under poor influence. I wanted them to know that I knew exactly what I was doing, and that I had good reason to do so.

  The whole hatred process, while relatively short-lived, was therapeutic, and assisted in guiding me down my proper path of healing. I’ve found that the seven stages of grief are practically identical to the stages of healing. I had gone through the shock and denial stages in my avoidance period, and now I was in the middle of the pain and anger stage. I certainly was in a considerable amount of emotional pain- a delayed reaction to all the pain that was inflicted on me over the past five years that I had pushed down in favor of what I thought was my dream. And I was undeniably, almost frighteningly, angry. Angry at the culture, angry at the people involved, angry at myself for falling under the spell. Anger isn’t a state one should reside in for long, and I truly didn’t, but it was necessary for me to go through in order to progress properly.

My anger faded quickly, but I was still fragile, and needy. I was going into competition with people that had been intensively training their entire lives in styles I had only touched on. I needed validation that what I was doing was the right thing, and that I belonged where I was going. I still understood the value that ballet technique has to a dancer’s career, regardless of what style they specialize in. But I told myself that I wouldn’t be able to face doing a full-on ballet class again until I had officially worked as a commercial dancer, solidifying my state as a successful non-ballerina.

But like most plans, especially those formed in minds foggy from too much emotion, it turned out that my system of waiting until I was a bona-fide professional before returning to ballet classes wasn’t going to work out. Things began to pop up on my horizon- being asked to teach ballet, scheduling auditions for things required me to present my ballet technique, going to conventions where ballet class was a major part of the day- that made it impossible and quite stupid to keep ignoring ballet. I knew that I needed to get into the studio and start building my ballet skill and technique up again so that I could make the most of those experiences, as well as continue to improve some of my flaws as a dancer. My continued avoidance was no longer a wise path to walk.

Throughout some of that avoidance time when I was working in dance on my own, I had incorporated a bit of ballet pre-barre exercises into one of my warmup routines. Those simple plies, roll-throughs, and tendus were as far as I was willing to go, and I still had to push down some of my perfectionistic instincts, yelling in my ear to force my turnout as far as it would go and that any flaw in my lines was unacceptable. The whole experience of slipping those exercises back into my routine felt very much like finally re-following an ex on social media and feeling the discomfort that accompanied seeing their posts again. 

But when I went into the studio to actually give myself a full-on ballet class for the first time in a literal year, I felt the awkward tension of being at an outing that an ex happened to be at, too. It’s like the situation where you don’t have fresh feelings for that person anymore, and you have no doubt that it’s right that you’re not together anymore, yet you’re still in the stage where nostalgia can knock you off your feet and make all of your firmly assured opinions go blurry.

It was Halloween, and I only had about forty-five minutes to spend in the studio. In hindsight, that was probably a good thing, because I didn’t have an overlong time to sit there and obsess over how I looked in the mirror and what wasn’t going right. During those three-quarters of an hour, I fell to the ground more than once, lost my balance at nearly every opportunity, and had my back go into spasm while trying to hold a balance in arabesque. While I was in the room, I tried to laugh it off, moving quickly from one thing to the next, reminding myself that I hadn’t practiced the technique in a year and that there was no way my skill would be even close to where it was when I left, and that it was okay. 

However, the nostalgic movements triggered a previous state of mind, and suddenly I felt like I was existing back as myself in the thick of my ballet obsession. Any mistake made me feel without talent, without skill, and without a chance of being hired anywhere. My lack of perfection triggered a familiar rush of intense stress. Luckily, I was more emotionally mature by that point, and as I got in my car to leave, I was able to shove the feelings away and just be proud that I had pushed myself out of my current comfort zone.

The next time I went to give myself class, I had as much time as I needed, and I was quite a bit calmer. The only thing that set my teeth on edge was the fact that I was using the open studio at my family’s gym, and therefore had an audience nearly the whole time. Seeing as I was trying to focus on working within my body’s healthy limits and strengthening myself instead of forcing perfect lines and shapes, people staring at me and wondering what I was doing definitely made me feel insecure, even if they didn’t know the first thing about ballet, or whether what I was doing was right or wrong.

As I returned to the practice, it was difficult to think of ballet as a technique-strengthening exercise instead of pushing for perfection as I was so accustomed to doing. Thousands of classes taken with forced lines caused a few minor injuries that tended to flare up at annoying times and were doomed to eventually end my career early, and I wanted to break those harmful habits. However, any time I tried to pull my turnout back so that I could actually stand on my own two feet, extend my leg with proper placement instead of hiking it up for height, or keep my body properly aligned, a dramatic fight exploded in my brain. The dancer Ryn told me to stay within safe limits for longevity and greater strength, and the ballerina screamed that I had no worth if I didn’t look like the most perfect ballet dancer to ever walk the Earth, even if I had no care to ever do it for a career again. Most of the time, what I did ended up being a compromise between the two, pushing my limits a little further than I should’ve instead of disregarding them completely.

Practicing ballet again, however, actually helped to begin the healing of wounds I didn’t realize I still had, and I was able to shift my mindset about it all. Wisps of future success and achievement began to appear on my path, and I started to find confidence in myself outside of ballet. That opened me up to shift my perspective- it was likely that I’d never be asked to do a fondu or frappe combination onstage or in an audition ever again, and therefore didn’t have to be perfect at them specifically. With that requirement lifted from my shoulders, I was able to find the value of the exercises in things that I did in other styles of dance. Tendus and degages would improve the articulation of my feet, which are a major asset of mine. All the work I did on my turnout would improve my stability and balance in the long run. Hard fondus would turn into shapely legs and a great amount of stamina, adagios would improve my lines, basic pirouettes would turn into impressive contemporary turns in strange positions.

Those were all connections that we were supposed to make in ballet class- teachers always spoke about how barre is supposed to prep you for center which is supposed to prep you for choreographic work. However, while in constant ballet classes, I could never truly make the connection. Ballet choreography was essentially comprised the exact same steps and arm positions we did in ballet class, not creative movement that simply required the strength and inspiration of them. Therefore, I couldn’t reap any true benefit from the exercises at the time, because again, I was more concerned with perfection than improvement. 

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I was more concerned with perfection than improvement.

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However, through working on my own in ballet in order to improve other things, I had a wonderful epiphany: my technique was likely to improve a lot faster than it ever did in constant ballet class due to the fact that no one was asking me to be perfect, to look a certain way, or to fit in with certain people. Without those pressures, instead of pushing past my limits like they didn’t exist and creating issues that would cause major problems for me in the long run, I could expand them slowly and healthily.

In addition, after I moved back in with my parents in August of 2019, I began attending the gym for actual workout exercises many times a week- more than I ever did in the height of my ballet training. Going to the gym and doing exercises solely meant to strengthen and tone my body allowed me to look at practicing ballet through a different lens. When doing conditioning exercises, you’re not so focused on how pretty or perfect something looks. It’s not such a big deal if you can’t go to the maximum range of motion. You don’t feel small or less worthy if you have to pull back on something, because the only goal is to go where you feel the burn and to strengthen your body. When it dawned on me to think of ballet class as just another set strengthening exercises to do at the gym, it felt easy to push myself without exceeding my limits, and to not beat myself up over not looking perfect, filled with confidence that with more practice I’d get stronger and be able to push myself a little farther. Truth be told, it was the mindset I should’ve had all along, but everything happens exactly when it’s supposed to, and I believe those thoughts came when I needed them the most.

Of course, it’s always frustrating to be out of practice. When I left ballet, I was working with a professional company. It was hard to accept that after a year away I wasn’t going to be at that level anymore, despite the fact that I was improving greatly in other styles of dance. It was annoying to have my back cramp up while trying to hold a nice arabesque. It was embarrassing when I couldn’t seem to stop myself from toppling over in a penche. It was frustrating when I couldn’t grand battement as high in time with the music, fondu with stability, or frappe as precisely. If I had still been in the thick of my ballet mindset, each of those mistakes would probably cause an anxious, angry breakdown. But with my healthier approach, I’m able to acknowledge my frustration, recognize what I am excellent at, be confident in the fact that things will improve quickly, and safely try again. It’s such a wonderful, peaceful feeling that brings me a sense of determination rather than discouragement.

But that was all done just while working through classes in the studio by myself. Coming up was a dance convention that I’d be attending with my childhood studio, which of course included ballet classes. Actually taking ballet in a roomful of other dancers again was going to be a completely different beast. Seeing as it was my home studio, everyone knew that I had been off at ballet school for the past five years, and all eyes would be on me. I walked into the class apprehensive, all of my old worries swimming to the surface- ones about whether or not I’d regret leaving my ballet career, ones about ridicule I’d receive if I wasn’t perfect, ones about what sort of criticism I’d get from the teacher. I situated myself in a back corner and found myself right back in my ballet student mentality as the class started, forcing every position, making faces at myself when something didn’t go right, and having fear seize my stomach when the teacher began to give me attention.

But the Universe was at work once again, and this teacher was the best I could’ve possibly had for my first ballet class after so much pain and time away. She worked magic that allowed me to work with my body but still feel extremely confident in what I was doing. With her wise yet encouraging critiques helping me along, I started to enjoy myself greatly. For about the length of a minute I felt the desire to be a ballerina again- much like one gets the urge to call their ex when they’re lonely and see an old picture of the two of them together. It was gone as quickly as it came, and I spent the rest of the class feeling confident, talented, and free; knowing that I would soon begin to improve greatly in all areas of my dancing and excited to try it all out. At the end of the class, the teacher complimented me highly, which was certainly something I wasn’t used to, and offered to make important connections for me. I wept in gratitude on my drive home. That one hour of my life was able to solidify the changing of my mindset, and heal once and for all the wounds that ballet created in me.

Another healing experience that I had came earlier that week, when I went to go see a younger cousin of mine perform in Moscow Ballet’s touring production of the Nutcracker. It would be the first time I had seen any ballet off of Instagram since I left. I went in with an extremely apprehensive mind, keeping quiet and trying to get myself in a very detached, distant mindset. As the first act began, a dull ache panged in my heart, which seemed to miss the memories of my days of being involved in ballet productions. But it was a false ache, which longed for sugar-coated memories that covered up the considerable bad of the situation with spectacles and beauty. It faded quickly, and watching the rest of the ballet had the bittersweet feeling of being at the wedding of an ex with your own new beau. Initially, you have that strangely intrusive thought of “Oh, that could’ve been me up there.” But then you look at what you have right now and become glad that it isn’t you, because leaving that situation opened you up to so many more wonderful things. After the performance, I left with a renewed sense of confidence in what I want to do.

As I said earlier on, I feel like everyone has one major breakup that teaches them invaluably important life lessons and sets them on the absolute right track for their life. I haven’t experienced that with a person yet, but after my break from ballet, I feel like I’m not going to need that experience to get those results. Breaking up from ballet taught me more life lessons than a split from a human would. After all, ballet was the ultimate love of my teenage life, the thing I thought would be there for me through everything and bring me my ultimate happiness. But it was a love affair doomed to fail, because being together like we were was destructive to me in every sense of the word. However, I’m past the point where I need to alienate it completely, because it’s not like it’s a bad person that’s not worth knowing- it was just the situation and the chemistry that was bad.

In the future, I see myself taking ballet classes once or more a week to improve my technique and strengthen my abilities in the styles of dance I do seek to perform professionally. Now that I have a better relationship with it, I see ballet as a fun part of my week, similar to the release of going to the gym and doing my favorite workout with an excellent playlist. I imagine I’ll be teaching it a lot in the future, so I’ll always understand and preach its value, but on a personal level, I think I’ll be able to view it through a healthier, lighthearted lens as something that’s fun and empowering. Perhaps I’ll strap my pointe shoes back on someday, and who knows- ballet may worm its way into some projects I do in the future.

Despite my new, healthier mindset, I still don’t regret leaving ballet at all, and have no desire to return to a ballet company or lifestyle. I absolutely love the path of being a dancer that I’m on now, where the dance world is my oyster and I can have the chance to do something different every day. Ballet has just become a friend of mine again, and I know it’s going to help me move forward, advance my abilities, and give me a special edge. I can’t stay mad at it forever, for it did bring me to the path I realized that I actually wanted to walk- something I don’t think I would’ve realized without going to the places that it’s taken me. I’ve just finally reached the point where I can honor all ballet has done for me, accept the trauma it caused, and count everything that came along with it- good and bad- as jewels in my crown as I walk towards my divine destiny.

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