Serenity - A Journal Of Some Sort

the dancer

I don't believe in reincarnation, but if I did, in another life, I think I would have been a dancer.

I was born with a rare genetic disorder, called CMT, which inhibits my ability to walk right. It's inherited. My father has it, my grandma has it, my great-grandfather had it, I know a few of my cousins do as well. I don't have it as bad as some of my other family members do. Some of them can only walk with braces on their feet. Thankfully, my case isn't that severe. That doesn't mean it doesn't have its downfalls.

It's progressive, it's gotten worse and will continue to get worse as I get older. The disease attacks the nerves, and it makes the muscles in my legs really weak. They're so tight that I sometimes can't push my heel to the floor, so I walk on my tiptoes instead. That earned me the nickname "ballerina" as a little kid.

I'm far, far from graceful.

I tried ballet before I knew what I had. I was terrible. Uncoordinated, clumsy, I clomped around like a puppy tripping over its own ears. We have footage of my first dance recital, of me falling flat on my face in the middle of the stage at the end of the performance. So, I quit after a few years. I never took another dance lesson.

My friends all joined the danceline team once we got to elementary. They begged me to join, so I could hang out with them after school. I always declined, though I wanted to, I just couldn't forget how frustrating ballet class was.

Through elementary and junior high, I started to realize things. My dad had always told me there was something wrong with my feet, but I'd never let it bug me. But suddenly, it kind of sucked that I was always last picked for the sports teams. That I could never catch up to my friends any time they moved faster than a walking pace. That sometimes I'd wake up in the middle of the night to my legs just aching so much that I couldn't sleep, just to find that it hurt to walk in the morning. How much I'd trip and fall and hurt myself, and how much people would laugh at me for it. 

There were sports I was interested in playing. I had fun with softball. All my friends were on the track team. I wanted to try tennis. I was always told no. They wouldn't let me on the team, with what I have. And if I got hurt, if I broke a bone, I would probably never heal. It was too big of a risk. 

But as I've gotten older, I've realized that I've had a passion for dance.

I guess I hated the structure of ballet, all the rules and specific moves that you had to master, and how embarrassed I felt when I realized I couldn't do it. 

Dancing by myself is how it started off. Sitting in my room, a CD from God knows where playing on my little radio, and I just got up and shook around for a little bit, just because. And it felt really good.

I started to love dancing, especially to a song that fit my emotions at the time. I never dance in front of people, because I look absolutely ridiculous, but it helps me to express my feelings and not keep them so bottled up. And it's fun. It's so much fun.

Dance has slowly become one of the biggest parts of my life. 

6th grade, I attended the Louisiana Teenage Librarians Association conference for the first time, and went to a social dance that night. I didn't know what I was expecting. I thought dances were for popular kids. But this was a dance full of book nerds, and suddenly, I knew exactly where I belonged. 

7th grade, I went for a second time. Danced my heart out, because these people didn't care how great you looked. But apparently, they did, because I won second place in the dance contest. My friends were just as confused and amazed as I was. I still have the ribbon.

Each dance I went to there at that conference holds special memories. I won't get into them here though.

Freshman year, I tried out for the manager of the danceline team that my friends had been asking me to join for so long. I figured if I couldn't dance, I could still get involved somehow. These girls on this team I have grown so close to that I don't know what I'd do without them now. I've also watched their moves and taught myself how to dance. Not as good as them, but enough to feel satisfied with myself. To know that I can do it.