Dear Dancer,

You may be at the beginning of this adventure of dance, but this sport and art will turn into one of the most important parts of your life.

My earliest memories include twirling on stage in tutus with the dance teacher yelling the choreography to us, as the audience laughed at how cute we were. Though it started as a mere hobby, as it does for most dancers, it soon blossomed into such a significant part of my life, as I am sure it will do for you.

Dance was a way to escape and allowed me to express myself in ways that I found hard to do in words. As soon as I entered the classroom for a dance lesson, I was able to forget about the outside world, and, if I couldn’t, I utilized that time to work it off. No matter what is on your plate, dance will always support you. Dance will never let you down or hurt; it will become the backbone of your happiness.

Dance will provide you a chance to work to better yourself every day. It is incredibly challenging, painful, and trying. There will be days when you come home with bruises, torn toes, and pulled muscles, where you feel as if you should give up. Then you will go back the next day, and land the trick you’ve been working for, and you’ll understand why it is all worth it. Dance allows for you to push yourself physically, mentally, and emotionally at the same time, and the growth that you see in all those aspects is absolutely remarkable.

For myself, dance wasn’t something that came naturally. In fact, physically, dance was the hardest sport I could’ve chosen, and all the odds were against me. I was born with a severe case Femoral Anteversion, a disease that causes inward twisting of the femur. The knees and feet turn inward and have a severe “pigeon-toed” appearance, making it hard for the people diagnosed to be active. Most doctors told my mother I would never be able to walk normally, or participate in most sports my fellow classmates would play, but, nonetheless, my mother took me to my first dance lesson at the young age of four, still unable to walk normally, and I fell in love.

I had to train harder than my fellow dancers at my studio, Center Stage Performing Arts Studio, an incredible dance studio that was an hour away from my house. I commuted to the elite studio to challenge myself and become the best performer I could be, but had to deal with the constant pains in my legs that came from the extensive training.

I was so lucky to have such a support system behind me from my family, friends, and wonderful dance coaches at Center Stage, and I started to progress into the dancer I dreamed of being. Your dance coaches and teachers will become the best mentors you will ever have, as they literally watch you push yourself to the limit every day, and stay by your side through every fall, mistake, and triumph.

I danced for 14 wonderful years of my life, gaining my favorite memories, and becoming the person I wanted to be by working hard and pushing myself every day. Dance was my everything, and I didn’t realize it until it was all taken away.

It was during my senior year of high school, in the midst of an intense competition season that I started to notice that something was terribly wrong. My right knee started to give me immense pain, so bad that I would walk off from a routine in tears. I didn’t see a doctor right away, for I wanted nothing more than to keep excelling at dance.

The lack of decent health insurance pushed the doctor’s appointments back even longer. The pain didn’t stop, even when my high school dance career was over, and carried on just as strongly into my first year of college at George Mason. I had entered college with the hopes of auditioning for one of the dance companies on campus, but that dream was quickly diminished when I realized I couldn’t even walk across campus without having my leg going numb, and my eyes filling with tears.

It was the most frustrating experience, wanting nothing more than to just perform in front of an audience again, but being unable to do so much less than that.

This past summer, I finally went into surgery for what they thought was a simple meniscal tear. What should’ve been a simple surgery soon turned into something of a nightmare.

The doctors found a tumor in the back of my leg, which required a surgery so intense that it ultimately ended my dance career forever. The doctors had to make a four-inch incision on the back of my knee, and had to remove a small portion of muscle to fully remove the tumor.

It took me a month after taking off the big cast to learn how to walk again, and, even now, nearly nine months later, my knee will buckle and give. I cannot run on my knee, nor dance on it extensively.

People often talk about injuries that stopped them from continuing their athletics physically, but they very rarely talk about how it actually affects them emotionally. Being unable to dance how I used to breaks my heart, and I wish I could go back to the beginning, to experience it all again.

There is no feeling like walking out onto the floor to compete with your team, holding hands as they announce awards with adrenaline running through your veins, or completing a trick or leap you’d been working endlessly on. It is hard to explain the love you have for dance unless you, yourself, are a dancer.

It allows an escape, a way for you to express yourself, and empowers you in extraordinary ways.

When I first realized that I would never be able to experience those things fully again, it was if someone splashed a bucket of cold water on me. What had been the most prominent thing my entire life was taken away, in a single moment.

I would never be able to experience putting on a pair of pointe shoes, or those feelings of butterflies right before you walk on for a solo.

If I could tell you anything, I would tell you that I wish to never take any of those moments in tutus, rhinestoned costumes, and in the dance studio for granted. There will be so many days of tears and frustrations, but even more of joy and the feeling of release when you truly lose yourself in choreography.

Dance may seem like a silly hobby now, but it has the potential to be so much more if you let it.

Dance will always be my first love. I now have undeniable limitations in my ability to dance. Though I no longer hold the ability to compete how I used to, my passion for it will never be diminished. Do not take advantage of your young talent and ability to progress. It will seem like a long road, but before you know it, it will be over.

Don’t ever forget that you love to dance.