I have danced since I was two years old. I ran out of gymnastics crying, so dance was my parent’s next choice of activity. Not that they wanted to put me in anything. According to my parents my legs were deformed as a baby and I had to wear braces on my legs. The doctor suggested an activity that would strengthen my legs. Dance was on the doctor’s orders.
Throughout the time that I danced, dance was always just me and the mirror. I guess that for me I was lucky. My studio did not do partner work and I could be in my own “bubble.”
Fast forward to today and all I have been through. The thought of having to touch someone else or depend on them for balance scares the hell out of me, yet that is where one of my classes is. I do not want to go back. There are so many flashbacks that I cannot handle being in the class. The trauma that I went through is a part of me. Sometimes, like when I present for NAMI, I can handle letting out a little bit. This class is flooding me.
It is to late in the semester to drop. Maybe I can talk to a counselor on campus about dropping for medical reasons. I know when I can push through. Pushing through on this is going to lead me down a dark path that I am just not ready to face.