This is not a conventional story about growing from being a dancer. This is not about pretty tutus and seashell pink point shoes. This isn’t about the day before the recital and my worn, black jazz shoes. This is about first heartbreak, which contrary to popular belief doesn’t come from the first boy you loved with all your heart. The first heartbreak is the hardest and it usually comes from the places you’d least expect it, a best friend, a family member, or in my case a tiny dance studio located on the corner of a main street.

The small purple studio I grew up in was more than a home away from home to me. It was a safe place, a place where I felt I could totally be myself. I spent sixteen years finding solace in that dance studio, it was somewhere that I grew not only in my dancing, but as a person as well. Though it wasn’t the most glamorous studio with flawless technique and a great competition team, it was my studio and I loved it and the people there with all my heart. The circumstances and details of why I had to leave my studio do not define the fact that my time as a dancer was cut short and not on my own volition. When I had no other choice but to leave my dance studio it was a devastating loss that I don’t think will ever leave me.

Nothing can prepare you for your first heartbreak, the first time when you feel everything inside of you shatter to pieces. When I had to leave my studio I lost my friends, the ones that had felt like a second family to me, and I lost my safe haven, a place where I stumbled around as a toddler and where I exhibited grace as a teenager. Though it may seem trivial, I can’t tell you how many times over the following weeks I cried over having to leave my studio. I remember sobbing to my boyfriend at the time because I was so broken and I remember how angry all of my pain and sadness made him. My broken state effected not only me, but those around me as they watched me fall apart.

The hurt still lingers every once and a while, but it didn’t take me very long after the fallout to pick up the pieces of my heart. In the end, I think being a dancer is what ultimately helped me overcome the loss of my dance studio and studio family. As I grew as a dancer I learned to never give up. If I didn’t push myself so hard over those years, I never would’ve became the dancer I was and the person I am today. That determination and drive from being a dancer carried over into my everyday life. Just like I knew I couldn’t give up on perfecting my pirouettes, I knew that I couldn’t give up on regaining the part of me I lost and allowing myself to be happy again. I am thankful for all those years of dancing that taught me I am the best me I can be, that I should always work hard towards my goals, and that I should never let anything get in the way of my success. I grew from my loss and though I had to move on, dance itself will always be a big part of my life, even though that little purple studio isn’t anymore. One of my favorite quotes is, “I found myself when I lost you,” and I think this quote applies to so much more than just that boy who broke your heart in high school. I believe it applies to the things that really built you as a person and sometimes those things are the losses that hurt the most.