I’ve started new #dance classes. A new place, a completely new space, a new teacher. Everything is new. New movements, a lot of #improvisation. And it’s hard. Really hard.
Most of the time I don’t feel great there. I feel like I’m doing everything wrong — not just with my #body, but also with remembering the #choreography. I miss steps, I get lost, I react too late. What’s interesting is that I’m not even that self-conscious anymore. I was much worse a year or two ago. Still, it hurts. I’m #frustrated. Not angry — frustrated.
In my regular classes, with teachers I know well, I learned how to hide #mistakes. I know my tricks. Here, with someone new, I can’t hide anything. Everything is visible. Every error. The class is two hours long. Two full hours of #struggling with almost every movement. It’s exhausting, emotionally more than physically.
Today was the second class. And it was better. Not good — just a little better. Tiny steps. A long way ahead before I feel comfortable there, but it feels doable. That matters.
Maybe it’s actually easier not to give up because it’s so hard. I’m strange like that. If something is too easy, it doesn’t hold me for long. I need friction. I need #resistance. After these classes, #emotions are high. I’m driving home and I can feel that old pattern waking up — eating stress, eating emotions. But this time there’s a pause. Recording this, then transcribing it, gives me enough space to not buy something awful for my body.
So no, I don’t feel good after these classes. But I stay.