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My twenties were something else. They held some of the best moments of my life, including my college graduation; dancing on the Badger Ballroom Dance Team; traveling to Turkey by myself; getting my writing published; vacations with family; and meeting brilliant, bold, hilarious, creative, and crazy people who changed my life.
However, among the bright moments, my twenties also had a running theme of survival. The early years were spent figuring out how to "adult": live with roommates, survive college, cook decent food, not burn my house down, navigate the professional world, pay bills, avoid Madison city parking police, and find that ever-elusive Life Direction. Life definitely challenged me. But at the age of 24, I kicked up the intensity. I moved across the country to Tucson - a place I’d never been, where I didn’t have a job or home lined up, and where I only kind of knew one person. I packed two suitcases and bought a one-way plane ticket. When I tell people this, many say, “That took guts,” or “That was brave." I usually respond, "Yeah...or dumb." There's a fine line, really. At the time, I was intoxicated with two things: leaving Wisconsin and ballroom dancing. I felt suffocated by familiarity and needed a change of pace, and I was pursuing something specific: Tucson had a teacher from whom I wanted to learn. So I left. The downside was that I didn't have a good plan. Our country was still climbing out of the recession and I barely had an employment history. Some people do this and hit the ground running. My landing wasn't bad, but it turned into a quicksand situation. After several months of trying to make it, things weren’t working out and I went through some tough shit. I became too broke to move anywhere else and had too much pride to return home or ask for help. I was fortunate to find good people to provide a roof over my head. One household even "adopted" me as a family member, which was wonderful and made holidays easier. However, I rarely talked about the reality of my life to anyone: how I was surviving on food stamps, how I nearly ended up at the Salvation Army (and instead lived across the street from it), and how my days were mostly just working to exist. Frankly, I was ashamed of what I had become and of what I was going through. More than this, though, I was ashamed of my naiveté. I tried to follow a passion/dream/fantasy and I failed horribly.
As I struggled to rebuild my life, I went through some dark periods of depression and/or fear, as well. Some are still too sensitive to share the details and with one in particular, I didn’t know if I would make it out the other side. At one point, I found myself in a situation I never thought I'd face, and - feeling the most distressed and hopeless I’d ever felt in my life - I admit I contemplated all the options. More than once it seemed my life was saved by an act of God/the Universe/whatever you want to call it, and I am grateful. I moved through these periods with the amazing help of others (particularly Kristen Mae), became a stronger person, and today I am fierce about protecting the healthcare, safety, and mental well-being of women.
During the healing process of these times, I also severed pieces of my former identity and sense of self. Emotionally, I felt like I was cutting off limbs of my body, pieces that once made me who I was. However, I recognized those limbs no longer served me; I had changed. But as the wounds healed, new limbs began to grow and I felt a new sense of personal empowerment and authenticity. I had a habit of yielding to others and giving them more control than I should have. But now I was taking a firmer grip on the reigns of my life and directing it in a way true to me.
Meanwhile, dancing was completely out of the question and I resented it for a while. I believed this childish dream and self-indulgent passion ruined my life, so I tried to suffocate it. It kind of worked. I spent most of my Tucson years working to pay bills and buy groceries, keeping myself occupied with inexpensive/free activities here and there, and hoping to live better one day…which was happening slowly. Even though I found wonderful company – people whom I love for bringing me joy and showing me kindness - I still felt an internal emptiness. Deep down, I spent four years feeling like a failure and wondering if my move was nothing but a detrimental mistake; years of my life wasted. I had wanted to be something…and I was nothing.
But things changed last year. I received a promotion at work and nearly cried when they told me my salary - I could afford a real life. Several people encouraged me to try dancing again and while it took some convincing, I decided to give it a shot. I emailed the only international style dancer I knew, someone I met years ago. I asked if he could recommend a few local teachers. By the next day, he had given me a thorough reply and – by the way – his partner had just moved to California, so he was looking for a one. My first day back on the floor was a try out - GAH. I was so nervous and my dancing was rusty and awkward. But it didn't matter in the end. When I left the studio, I felt that internal emptiness fill with light. I experienced a deep sense of happiness that I hadn’t felt for a long time.
Since then, every part of my life seems to have opened and grown: my dance knowledge and opportunities, my circle of friends, creative projects, my health, travel, and I found a funny and wonderful partner for life (and all the science experiments and lectures that come with him). I finally feel what it is like to flourish and not just survive. Tomorrow I turn 30, and I’m looking forward to it. I made it, everyone, and I’m glad to leave those intense coming-of-age years behind. I sincerely thank all of you - my family and friends - who have been with me along the way.
I don’t expect the next decade to be void of pain and setbacks, but my hope is that it will be one of living more fully than before – with more laughter, confidence, creativity, drive, community, and, of course, dancing.
Photo credit: While I only train in ballroom these days, I've danced other styles in the past and I simply love to move. Many, many thanks to Ed Flores for catching my dancing soul on film.
Flying
Painting
Dreaming
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