Page 121 of Facing Off
The reality is, I don’t know how many more years I have left to dance at this level. This might be my only chance at becoming a principal dancer. No matter what, no ballerina would ever pass this kind of opportunity up.
“Yes.”
The call ends. I stumble to the middle of the studio and raise my leg. I have to get back to practicing right away. But I’m not moving. I can’t seem to.
Now is not the time for this!
Especially when now I only have two weeks left. I can’t afford to lose focus, to not put my everything into this routine. My hands are on my hips as I lecture myself. “Get it together andfixyourself.”
My phone pings.
Apparently, I’ve manifested right on time becauseTeam Nutcracker has sent me their report. Everything seems to be happening chaotically, and all at once.
It takes a few attempts to open the email, the pads of my fingers are too clammy.
When I’m finally reading it, I sink to sit-crossed legged on the floor. “This makes no sense.”
I was expecting recommendations about what muscles I need to strengthen or what moves I’m not executing correctly or what other external factors keep making me fall.
But this report…
It used the wordpsychologicala lot, talking about the emotional and mental nature of the performance blocks, that I need additional therapeutic steps to untangle all that.
At the bottom of the report is bolded text.
I’m sweating from reading it.
The team recommends a few months as a more realistic timeline for improvement. They’ve also included a list of strategies they think will help me.
It’s instructional information about visualizations, journaling, trusting someone with my past, and this emotional freedom technique, or EFT, where I tap on my body while focusing on personal fears…
My brow scrunches.
It’s not at all what I thought it would be. I’m annoyed, confused, and quietly going haywire with the idea that if I ignoreexpertadvice, nothing changes. I’ll have the yips forever.
What the hell? I don’t know what to do!
Actually, I do. As soon as I opened the report up, his face popped into my head. Because I need to talk to someone about this, and yeah, Team Nutcracker will have the most helpful answers, but they aren’t who I want toconfront. I want to see him and talk (maybe snarl) through all of these new waves of stress, and also poke him and figure out if he’s been sleeping.
Again…we’ve only been apart for a few days. None of these actions make sense and my priorities are skewed. I’m frowning as my heart races, and I can’t stop myself from going to our text thread, reading the message I got this morning.
ADRIAN
I hope you got home safely!
ME
I did, thanks
Neither of us has mentioned the club, as if we’re afraid to touch the topic and…jinx something. I don’t know. Who knows? I’m not myself.
Especially not right now. Warmth floods my neck as I go to my Notes app and put together a message.
I’m wondering how you’ve been…
I’ve been thinking about…
Hey!
