I'm not sure where to begin. I have no updated dancing to share with you, but the experiences and thought I've put in is overwhelming and kind of all over the place. Maybe I'll start with the book I read. My teacher, mentor, Temple-mommy and best friend gave me "Tuesdays with Morrie" to read. I'd obviously heard of it before and had actually tried reading it once but a friend destroyed the cover, and I have trouble reading damaged books. In the book, on the 6th Tuesday, they talk about emotions. I found Morrie's philosophy so interesting. Instead of ever shying away from an emotion, he fully immerses himself in whatever he's feeling so he can experience it to its most extreme degree. He is then able to recognize that emotion for what it is, saying, "Okay, this is fear," and can let it go - detach himself from it. His idea is that if you stifle emotions, if you don't allow yourself to cry, if you don't allow yourself to laugh or hide in a corner for a few minutes, then you'll never actually know what it's like to feel these things. So by all means, go nuts for a few minutes, then step back and realize what's happening and step away from it.
I also loved the chapter on forgiveness. Well, let's be honest, I loved all the chapters, but this quote in particular stuck with me, "We also need to forgive ourselves...For all the things we didn't do. For all the things we should have done. You can't get stuck on the regrets of what should have happened. That doesn't help you..." I can't directly tie it to emotions and give you some kind of mathematical equation on how it all relates, but I know in my heart that what that says is so essential to what I'm doing.
While in New York, over lunch one day we discussed injuries, how to prevent them and the reality of dealing with them. Obviously, the mental and emotional aspect of injuries sometimes overpowers the injury itself. In particular, the back was brought up. Apparently, and I'm going to try to look this up, the back is known as a catalyst for emotional response. Whether you're injured there or just in a backbend, it can open you up and make you sob, or very angry. They were talking about the nerves in the back and the neurological connections, but none of us were doctors or physical therapists or anything of the sort. Just a bunch of dancers talking suppositions. However, it made so much sense to me. My back is probably my most messed up physical feature. Throw in some scoliosis, a complex spine (lumbar lordosis), bone degeneration and dislocating shoulder blades and you have the making for your very own girl version of Quasimodo, who ironically is trying to make a living as a dancer. It's been a common theme for conversation ever since high school when they started telling me I looked like the girl from "The Ring." At that time, I only knew about the scoliosis. Then I got to college and got walloped. In my freshman year of school, after just discovering my complex spine and dislocating shoulder, I started to recognize how emotional I would get when someone merely touched my back. It was like a switch. Touch my back and I'm ready to cry. Backbends don't really do it to me. The one positive side to all of these ailments is my back has grown extremely flexible, and everyone seems to realize that, consciously or not, because I do backbends in every single dance I'm in (as can be evidenced by my Facebook. Go ahead and look through my dance pictures. I promise Bill catches me in a backbend every single time). It's also been brought to my attention that I tend to lead into things with my back when dancing for myself. My back initiates everything, which I am completely and totally unaware of as a dancer. It's like I've shut that part of my body off. I don't want to deal with how messed up it is so I don't feel it, kind of like my emotions, but it is constantly screaming for attention. I think all of this combined means that I need to pay attention to it. There needs to be a section that deals with my back in the dance and I need to know exactly what I'm doing and pay attention to it. This part might not come out of improv. This may be a true-blue choreographed little-diddy where I have to force myself to realize what's going on. That's going to be fun...
My last big lesson to share for today...I think. A few months ago, an old, close friend from high school, probably the closest I'd ever had, who I'd had an intense falling out with, reached out to me. It was terrifying and in my head was completely the wrong time. Looking back though, I think maybe it was perfect timing. It took me from September until last week to really warm up to him and want to tell him about my life again, but I think I needed to go through that process. I thought about it every few days, wondering why I was hiding, why I was so reserved. And then I started this project and realized that if I was going to sit here on my couch and tell you all that I was on a mission to be more open and honest, that I needed to start living that. So I told him that I was ready to tell him what had happened, despite how sad my stories were, despite my fear of his disapproval, despite the daunting fact that I knew somehow he was going to make me realize that it was okay, I was okay, and that at the core, none of it was really my fault. So, we talked. I told him everything, or everything I could remember. We got it all out of the way, my sob stories, why I had trouble talking to people, his apologies and the overwhelming blame he put on himself, and then we just talked, for hours, about everything and anything. I have not given any one person, outside of family, so much of my time and attention in so very long, and I did it so freely, so willingly. I would chalk it up to being stuck on a bus for hours with nothing better to do, but then the strangest thing happened. I called him back when I got home. I actually wanted to. And we talked more. I didn't have to think about what I was saying, or contemplate what affect it might have on what he would say next. It didn't matter. I could just talk, and laugh. I haven't laughed like that in a year at least. He brought back, the version of me I've been searching for. She never left, which is so comforting and so fulfilling. I was here, just hiding, just protecting myself. He said that in our initial conversations he could feel that and it scared him. He was scared I'd been lost. When I explained what I thought was happening to him, he said it made a lot of sense - that he could see me doing that. The girl he knew/knows is extremely open, and giving and susceptible to a lot of pain because of it, putting herself on the line and being hurt by many for doing so. I think that's what happened. I got hurt, for what I decided was the last time and I retracted. But I can't live like that, it isn't who I am. I'm not saying I was some mental patient and now I'm cured, Hallelujah! I'm not saying I was a mental patient at all, and I'm not saying I'm cured at all, but in the last few days, I feel back. For whatever reason, the way this summer has been going, the New York trip, talking to him, reading that book, I'm not sure...but it's nice.
So thank you, everyone. I've come to realize I need you. I can't do this whole life thing on my own the way I thought I could. I'm glad I have been fortunate enough to cross paths with such amazing people.
Warning: I can promise my next post will be stressed. This upcoming week looks like it may be a little rough. Fasten your seat belts everyone.
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