I arrived to my second ballet class at 26 years old in black leggings, a fitted top, and white ankle socks. I had wanted to dance for years, but didn't know if I'd like it and just wanted to try it out. I would invest in shoes if I enjoyed my second experience.
My first experience was when I was just a few years old. I remember getting all dressed up in tights, ballet slippers, and a leotard. My hair pulled back, my cousin with me. I stood at the bar and looked around and felt so ugly. I didn't feel that I belonged there. I cried and cried and cried until my mom took me away and never returned. I never told her how I felt about myself, but it was my first memory of the strong self-deprecation that would cling to me throughout my life.
When I arrived for my second experience years later, I was surprised to encounter a very handsome, experienced ballerina who met me at the edge where the carpet met the wooden floor, approached me, and deeply bowed. "Uhhh," I responded skeptically and surprised not knowing what to do. "This is how we great each other in ballet. I bow to you and you curtsy to me." I curtsied to him and he invited me to join the other dancers at the bar for warm-ups. I stumbled my way through my second ballet class. As the hour and a half session came to a close, my teacher turned around once again and bowed deeply. I knew what to do this time and responded with a curtsy and a thank you. "I hope we'll see you again!" He exclaimed with a great amount of enthusiasm. "It was great to have you today!"
I ended up dancing with that lovely teacher for the next two years. Every class, he would welcome me in by bowing and close every session the same way. He treated me with reference and respect at our every reunion. Ballet class became my safe space. I could show up there and between those mirrored walls, watch myself trip and stumble and get all the steps wrong, and learn to love myself anyway. The point wasn't to be perfect, the point was to learn a new art, to have fun, to get some exercise, and to enjoy my classmates. I remember seeing myself as so beautiful during the final floor routine.
I wish trauma survivors a similar space in their recovery processes. I wish that we would be welcomed to the recovery floor with a reverent bow and an enthusiastic welcome. I wish that we could approach recovery lightly as we learn the art of self-care, stumble through self-love, and step our ways into deeper self-acceptance. I wish we would be bowed to on our way out, as we leave the safe space to continue to live our lives and contribute to society.
Unfortunately, my experience as an adult ballerina and my recovery experience did not align. As soon as I came forward with my story of incest, my family met me with criticism, doubt, and disbelief. Forgive and forget, or I don't want to hear about it, or you're always such a victim, were the messages that I received. The medical community dismissed my many physical and psychological ailments as psychosomatic, with no solution other than to stretch, try medication, and talk about my trauma more. The justice system provided confusing messages about how to report, told me I couldn't once I showed up to do so due to statue of limitation laws, and then let me report after I demanded to do so with no follow up. The church couldn't help, it had it's own allegations to deal with.
So, I began my recovery process mostly alone, found new and better tools step by step, tried to understand the complexity of trauma on the brain, body, and being, allowed all to recover all at once, grieved the loss of so many years, so many people, and so many dreams, while I held a full-time job, rebuilt a home, a family, and a support system. I wasn't welcomed onto the recovery floor, I stumbled my way in only to be passed from doctor to doctor, cop to cop, healer to healer, until I found people who could help. Eventually, I learned the art anyway, found supportive people anyway, and stepped my way into a new life. It wasn't fun, graceful, or enjoyable, but I did it anyway.
I know that there is a better way to heal. I know what's it's like to be treated like a queen upon entering a new hobby, community, and way of practicing life. Recovery should be the same way. Families should be supportive, churches trauma-informed, the medical approach integrative, and the justice system ready to receive and respond to complex stories of violence. Support communities should be available to catch you when you fall and all of these tools should be accessible and affordable.
This is my dream for trauma recovery for the next generation. I hope that Blue&Lavender can be a space where we bow to each other no matter where we are in the healing process, support each other as we study, stumble, and step our way through, and let each other leave the floor with the same reverence we received when we arrived. I left ballet everyday feeling beautiful, strong, competent, and whole. As I find myself less and less on the recovery floor, and more and more out in the world sharing what I've learned, I practice the confidence, courage, and clarity I found there in a world so much bigger. I continue to practice showing myself the same reverence and respect that I learned from my Ballet Master and hope to treat others the same.