I'm just going to write. Hang in there.
Everything is moving so fast right now. It's amazing, overwhelming, fascinating, confusing...everything I could have ever dreamed of, it looks like it's happening. Is it really happening? Am I imagining it?
I feel a little unsteady. Almost like I'm floating and I'd really really love to touch down, but I'm just not sure where the ground is. It always seems to be 2 inches lower than I'd planned.
I never ever expected to have choices to make. Traveling the world or the company of my dreams? Being a teacher, a choreographer or a performer? Making money, having a set routine and being comfortable, or really, really committing to this dance thing the way I've always wanted to? Family or my life? Me or the rest of the world?And some of those options aren't even straight forward. They overlap and crisscross and it just gets super complicated somewhere in there.
You know those shots in movies when everything is racing by but there's that one person in focus, standing completely still in the middle and just staring at the camera? Ya, that'd be me.
It's all wonderful, really it is. I am so excited. I just don't think I want to choose. I never planned on having to choose. I really, really wish I was Superwoman. I wish I could do it all. I want at least 48 hours in a day, and in those 48 hours I don't want to have to sleep...but, well, that's one thing about this world I doubt I can change.
I got frustrated in rehearsal today, not for my own work. I can't stand getting frustrated, and I know it's not the most fun for the person who's trying to work with me when I let myself get there. I know I shut down, and I try so hard to climb back out, but it's very nearly impossible sometimes. Right off the bat though, he had me in tears. I was so open, it terrified me. "This piece is about that point in your life when you get to that place where you can step back and say, ya, you hurt me, but it's not about you anymore. Forget that. This is about me. And that's okay. I'm not being selfish. It's about me now." Those weren't his exact words...but he said something like that, and he hit me, somewhere deeper than the ribcage. Immediately, tears. That is where I am. I'm at that point and I don't know how to deal with it because I am at that point with so many different people. But I can't seem to finish it. I can't seem to get to the other side of that statement where I believe what I'm trying to convey. I was so overwhelmed by how much I resonated with his words that I couldn't move forward with the dancing. I kind of needed to sit there and cry for a minute, because someone finally said everything I've been feeling out loud...perfectly. But I couldn't cry, I had to dance and I had to take corrections, which I was not taking well at all. And the worst part was he thought I was upset with him for correcting me. No. I was upset with me for being a bad dancer.
I went and improved after that. I talked to you. Don't think I've forgotten. Just because I didn't bother you at my usual late night hour, it doesn't mean I've forgotten. I have the money aside for that trip, but I can't decide if I should actually do it, which is absurd because there are three other people I want to see and I need to figure out how to take time off while keeping my sanity intact, so realistically, I'll probably do it. Maybe I just won't tell you. I mean, I'm scarred, legitimately, and no check-ups. That hurts, more than the attack itself, which ya, evidently had nothing to do with you, but do you really think so? Do you really think it makes it any easier for me? I think it's all ridiculous. Starting from a year ago. Our journeys, they're ridiculous. What are we doing? I don't know where it ends. I can't reconcile everything. It's like one of those 5,000 piece puzzles. I think I'm close to having the outline of it done, but to hell with that middle section.
In talking to you, I touched my heart so much, and my neck. I wound up on the floor, upside down, pelvis as high above my head as my short little torso would allow, with all my weight on my arms, and just when I'd hit the pinnacle of strength, I would collapse. I closed my eyes anytime I had to face where I imagined you standing, and would immediately open them when I turned away. At the climax of our silent, non-existent discussion, my back was what got it all out of me. I fought you. I screamed at the top of my lungs with my shoulder blades and spine. And when I was done, I walked away.
I'm amazed at how jaded you are. I'm 27 and have been through a divorce. I'm not even that jaded.
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