I still look like a ballerina. I’ve come to terms with this and no longer rue the fact, but there was a time when I railed against this identifying marker of my past – it felt so constricting, so haunting – a crushing reminder inducing feelings of failure. The events that led me to leave my life of dance are too involved to mention here, right now, but they left no doubt in my mind that I had to leave the path I’d been on for so long in order to grow. In some ways, of course, I’d already left – in deep places of my heart, I’d already left, but stepping into a new direction proved to be a greater challenge than I’d anticipated.
Today I feel like I’ve lived two lives. In my first life: dance, achievement, adventure. In my second life: self-awareness, spiritual growth, marriage. The feeling of two lives lived before age thirty is exhausting: sometimes I simply do not have the desire to try as hard in this one as I did in the other one. But I miss being inspired and I miss being creative, and I’m sad that the only expression I’ve developed for my soul is the movement of my own body. I’m mad that I felt so controlled by my art form that the years I should have been gaining speed in my professional/educational life, I instead spent derailed, like a refugee – in a transitory survival mode.
But I am ready to be proud of my life again. I’m ready to stop running and start creating. This is the journey I hope to take with you. I think it is the most important journey of my life – as a woman, a soon-to-be mother, and a wife.