There was a time when I would leave a dance class and just go about the rest of my day. I might have been happy with how I did or not that happy perhaps but either way I would just leave and that would be that. Probably I’d be tired, usually that satisfied kind of tired from a long day’s hard work and sometimes a more frustrated kind because I had a long night still ahead, or maybe so beat I could think only of getting home and putting on my pyjamas and collapsing in front of the TV.
I would leave the Sports Centre and whatever feelings I’d had during class, being proud of nailing a sequence or being annoyed with myself at repeatedly not getting a step, wouldn’t come with me. Not in a negative, ‘I want to forget that ever happened’ way, it just never occurred to me to spend time dissecting my class experience.
At AMDA, too – I would enjoy my dance classes and in general feel fine with how they went – I don’t remember ever having a class there that I really beat myself up over, and to be fair some of that is probably because they were on the gentler side of challenging, the teachers each having only a short time each term in which to impart movement information. Not that we didn’t sweat like mad. But even when I ran up against things that I wasn’t great at or that I didn’t know how to do, I had a narrative for myself that just kept me breezing on by and never questioning my dancerism.
Maybe around the time of AMDA dance workshop, the extra curricular program you auditioned for (which…I did and got in so already it’s crazy that I doubted so hard) when I started to come up against phenomenal dancers from the Dance program who have been trained a totally different way than I was – in essence they’ve been trained to be acrobats – I started to doubt myself and stew over not being able to do tricks and gymnastics. I started to develop a different narrative, one where the story didn’t go ‘I’m a great dancer. Oh, so and so is better at turning right than me. But I’m better at x y z. My leg doesn’t go as high as whatserfaces, but I’m more stylistically versatile’. The story went ‘I don’t belong here. I don’t know how to do that. My body won’t do that. I don’t know how to be a dancer’.
I’ve been stuck in that mind trap for quite a while now, which means that instead of just leaving a class and continuing with my day, I leave class and analyse and wonder why me or why not me and remember what I did wrong and everyone who did what I did wrong right and wishing I’d done it right and being cross with myself because it was a stupid mistake that I got right every other time and I wish I could do box splits and where does everyone buy their dance clothes? Is there a secret shop I don’t know about I search all the time and I’ve never seen any of these leggings or tops
And other things like that
Which really serves no one least of all me. I’m sharply aware of its futility and also how completely untrue a lot of the thoughts are because – no one knows I’m feeling any kind of way except me. The teacher doesn’t know what I’m thinking and I don’t know what they’re thinking. The other dancers aren’t looking at me they’re looking at the teacher and themselves in the mirror. (My jazz teacher today shouted out during the warm up ‘I love that green hair’. That’s dope! That’s what he was thinking about, when he glanced my way!)
But it’s a pattern and a habit and sort of a defence mechanism because if I’m super down on myself it will somehow transmit to the teachers, the classmates, the world that I CAN do it, I’m really good, I know I did that wrong see? See I know it was wrong so I know what makes it right
If I make a mistake in class sure the teacher probably sees it. But they don’t suddenly hate me or like…take the rest of the class out for drinks so they can laugh about it. I’m so in my head and I am going to have to work on returning to the mindset that used to allow me to just go in, do it, leave and carry on.
It’s not just about confidence – I can be confident, I felt very confident in all three classes I took today. It’s about knowing, without question, that I’m a dancer. What do dancers do? Dance. No further analysis needed. No need to leave class hauling a bag of feelings and doubts. Just leave and go do the next thing. And tomorrow, do it again.
I took theatre jazz with Richard Pierlon (I slayed it) tap with Alex Macdonald (it’s my third class with him and every week I’ve felt myself improve hugely, also I nailed the choreography every time until the last two times we did it when I made the same mistake twice because I just had a mind blank) and commercial jazz with Nicholas Palmquist (again, slayed)
4.5 hours of dancing today.
And then I came to sit in Troy’s studio and cool down and obviously think about screwing up in Alex’s class and how the really friendly girl next to me didn’t screw up and she videoed herself doing the choreo with the teacher after class and I didn’t and I couldn’t anyway cos I messed it up and about how no matter how great I felt about the work I did in Palmquist’s class if I’d been in class with some other dancers I know I would have been the worst one because I can’t do the wacky leg things they can do without tearing a hamstring and…I won’t continue because you get the idea.
Even though I did nothing but good today, I still come away with all these bad things to think about myself. That’s quite an upsetting thing to confront, but it must be confronted because how else will it ever be improved?
Rome wasn’t built in a day. And I don’t want something done fast, I want something done right.
So tomorrow I’ll go to contemporary class and I challenge myself now with Blog as my witness to finish class and however it may have gone to go into the changing rooms, cool down, put my streets on, leave Steps and go onto the next thing with zero time spent over if and but.