It’s been two years since I’ve been on stage. I have taken breaks in the past, but I knew at that point, the performing side of my dancing was really over. Although I have been teaching and watching dance for the past two years, I haven’t been in an audience watching a ballet during that time. I finally went to one this past weekend, and it brought on many thoughts.
Yes, I still grieve not performing. As a performer, I knew exactly where to park, and what entrance to the theater to use. It was fine for me to go all over backstage or wherever I wanted. I didn’t have to worry about being cold because I had a bag full of warm ups and was jumping around all over the place to keep warm. But as an audience member? It’s, “Oh, maybe I can’t park here.” “Will call? Where is that?” “How do I find my seat because I don’t know where this number is.” “Oh yeah, it’s really cold in the audience! And I didn’t bring a jacket.”
Then there’s the going back stage to see friends and getting barked at by a well-meaning employee who is trying to protect the backstage from being flooded by the audience, and to keep the dancers’ spaces safe. But for me, those spaces still feel like my spaces. They are still familiar. It doesn’t feel like it’s been years. Not being recognized felt like the moment in The Last Unicorn when the unicorn is mistaken for a horse. Except that in this case, they were right – I was just another person.
It’s strange. And sad. The dancers are riding their post-show high, huge smiles on their faces. They are so excited. And it gave me a post-show high right along with them. It was good to see people and get hugs…to feel a part of it again, even though I’m not. Because I didn’t go home dripping with sweat and every muscle hurting, but I did go home with the radio blasting and singing along with it, because it still felt good.
I realized how much I missed it. Which is why it can be easier to stay away. I see it in former professional ballet dancers. Some stay with teaching or directing, but some go in a completely different direction. At least for some number of years, until it doesn’t hurt so much, and they can go back to it on different terms. I feel like there is so little discussion about how much it hurts to not be a dancer anymore.
Going back was therapeutic. In the few days after, as I had time to reflect, a lot of things came to my mind. Things that I had missed with my family to be in those shows. The freedom I have in my life without being tied to it.
As much I love performing, there is a downside. There’s always that question of how it’s going to go. There’s always so much criticism leading up to it. It’s mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausting, especially as an adult and a non-professional. When you are dancing in a company, you get to point where you are dancing so much, you feel on top of your game all the time. It comes with the 8 hours of dancing all day, every day. Your worst day is still a pretty darn good day in the grand scheme of things. But, there’s also an insane amount of pressure to go along with it. Pressure I didn’t have the maturity to handle when I was in it.
As an adult, I had the maturity, but I wasn’t dancing enough to feel as on top of it as I wanted to. I was still dancing a lot, but not enough for the expectations I had of myself. There was a different kind of pressure for my performances, because at any time, I didn’t trust my body to do what I needed it to do. The performance high usually wasn’t high, because I didn’t feel as good as I wanted or needed it to feel.
If you are a fan of Dance Academy, you may remember one of the last episodes where Saskia is talking about retiring. She has been let go from the company after it comes under new leadership, but Tara tells her that plenty of other companies would be glad to have her. Saskia, who is still coming back from an injury, replies, “I’m just sick of starting each morning with coffee and a pain killer.” I think this embodies what happens to a lot of us. We get tired of the fight.
All this to say, that yes, there is a life after performing. A beautiful life. A life where you can stand in the back of a classroom and dance, and feel like you are on stage. Where you can have your evenings and weekends to shop, or garden, or clean your house. Where you can wake up and not be in pain. Or you can be in pain, but from Pilates or Crossfit, or whatever else you decide to conquer.
I wish ballet could be more balanced, and could be something we could do without it being so demanding on both bodies and time.
Don’t stay away from the ballet. Go. Let the dancers inspire you – fill you with spirit. Breathe right along with them, and you will feel like you are dancing too.
