"Comparison is the thief of all joy."
Those words essentially sum up my years in ballet dance. I loved to dance, and I was capable, but I never took that at face value. The second someone told me that I was beautiful, that I had danced well, that I had done well; I dismissed it. I didn't know it then, though, maybe internally, but I had an idea of what the perfect dancer should and would always be, and because I didn't fit into that image, I dismissed myself.
I was so consumed in living up to everyone else's idea of perfection that I forgot that I danced for myself. In middle school and early on in high school, I was entirely wrapped up in what everyone else was doing. I was so obsessed with trying to do what everyone else did that I lost sight of why I danced; because of my pure love and obsession with it.
When I got to college, I was diagnosed with a hormone imbalance that as a result of caused me to be overweight. I was also a dancer, which meant that I spent hours a day in very little clothing, staring at myself in the mirror. Self-loathing became so natural to me that I stopped thinking about it. My performance quality went downhill because of it, and I didn't dance to my full potential because I refused to acknowledge my ability. Sometimes I look back at videos and realize that I was so much better than I ever thought I was.
Being a dancer and being overweight was hard. I never felt like I belonged, which is ridiculous because I don't think anyone ever thought about it. I always belonged. My dance family is and was so supportive of me. I built it all up in my head, and that is my one regret.
When I was a senior in high school, I had the opportunity to go with my dance school to Disneyland and Disney California Adventures through the Disney Performing Arts Program. It was three days, but it changed how I viewed myself. The first part of the program was dancing in both parks on separate days and then going to a workshop with a Disney employee. That's when it happened.
We were just doing turns across the room; they weren't hard, and even the seven year olds were doing fine. However, as I twirled across the room the lady who was teaching stopped me. She said, "you look at the ground when you dance, you don't want people to see you." She challenged me to say, "hi *insert name*" to every Disney employee I saw for the remainder of my trip. Out loud I said "Ok, thank you," in my head I said, "umm that's easy."
I was wrong. It was the hardest thing I have ever done. I was doing so incredibly good, I could say hi to almost everyone. Then, when I was standing in line with some of the girls I was there dancing with there was a young, incredibly attractive guy whom I had been challenged to say hi to, and I couldn' t do it. Even with encouragement, I couldn't get paid to stand there and be nice or to say hi back. I didn't think I was good enough for him to talk back to.
That's when I became aware: That's when I realized that I was worth so much than I thought I was. It taught me that just because I wasn't the ideal dancer, or even in my head the ideal person, that didn't mean I was worthless. People still liked me, and I finished my dance career so strong.
If you don't think you're good enough, that you're not worth someone's time, just know that you are. You are worth so much and you were meant to shine in this world. Don't let your insecurities get the best of you. The only person you're hurting is yourself.
