Why I Quit Dance

Ever since I quit dance a couple years ago, the subject of why has always been a sensitive topic. Mostly because, I really wasn't sure why I was quitting something I loved. I wasn't sure how to explain it to people when they would ask me why. I would just say, "because I hate it." But that wasn't true at all. I loved dancing. I loved the way it made me feel, the outlet it was from all the bad times, and somewhere where I could productively use my emotions. I always felt free when I danced. My loving dance teacher would always say that when we came through the door of the studio, it was like we go through a waterfall and almost enter a different world. A world where we could forget a bad day at school, a rotten day at home, or a bad fight with friends. And I always felt that way. I came through the door and I felt completely different. I could feel my worries melting away and staying out of the studio. Why would I want to leave a place like that? 

True, I loved dancing. Also true, I loved the kind, gentle atmosphere in which I could be myself and do what I loved. Also also true, I worked hard to be good at what I was doing. But working "too hard" is actually a possibility. I had severe knee problems, starting when I was about 13. I was in extreme pain during every class. My teacher was informed of this and for a while, let me limit myself to what didn't hurt as much. But I think she may have forgot that I was in pain and started pushing me harder, which is her job, because I really wasn't improving at all. But I didn't want to be that whiny, bratty kid that was always reminding her that I was "crippled."  So I just did what she told me to do, grimacing in pain, because I didn't want to let my teacher down. I do not blame my teacher in any way, I was the one who was too scared to remind her about my injuries. 

About the time that my knees were seeming to be getting better, I joined the cross country team! I wanted to be part of a high school sports team, now that my body was healed enough. But dancing and running everyday was not a very smart move on my part. My knees had just begun healing and feeling better, and I was trashing them again. Every cross country practice and every dance rehearsal I was, again, in agonizing pain. 

The new dance season had begun and my first cross country season as well. A new dance season brought new dancers. I was always nervous to meet the new dancers every season because dancers can have very headstrong personalities (like someone I know, (me)). This particular season brought these particular dancers that had a particular attitude. They would show it in the waiting room and be complete angels in front of the teacher. The thing that bugged me the most about these dancers is they would sit in the corner of  the waiting room and just stare at everyone. They would stare for a while, thinking that we couldn't tell that they were staring directly at us, then they would discuss whatever their staring had determined. It drove me crazy. They would look at us like we were crazy zoo animals, and judge us up and down. I guess this is why as a child I was always taught to be nice to everyone and never judge because these two dancers made me so self conscious about everything. I had no idea what, specifically, they were commenting on, so naturally I became concerned with everything about me. One day I stood up for myself. Saying, "what are you staring at?!", and getting the answer, "nothing," in the snootiest tone I had ever heard. I had never met ruder girls in my entire life. And I had to share my sanctuary with them 3 times a week. Dance didn't feel safe anymore. It wasn't the fun and expressive environment that I had known it to be. They watched my every move. And to make it worse, they didn't know about my knee problems. So I knew I wasn't at the top of my game, but they just saw me as an under-par dancer, and that killed me. I couldn't dance and let go and be myself anymore. They stole that ability from me, and I let them. I guess that's when I decided that for the sake of my knees, my sanity, and my mothers sanity from seeing me cry after every class, I needed to be done with dance and find something else that I could love. So on October 28, 2013, I took my last dance class. Do I miss it? Of course, with all my heart. Would I go back? I would like to, but I don't think I have the time. I'm hoping that participating in our school's production of Footloose will give me the dose of dance that I'm craving so bad. Because just watching Dance Moms isn't cutting it. :) 

Stay tuned for "Why I Quit Cross Country." hahahah. lol. I suck.