So, I didn’t dance at all over this weekend, and it was out of my own free will. Yeah, you heard me. Nada. And you know what? It felt refreshingly great.
Well, crap. I never thought I would type those words… Perhaps I’ve been naïve in thinking that this love affair with dance wouldn’t involve its fair share of tension and grief. But, it does. And what hurts the most is that this is all on me. I have been oddly and irrationally angry with my teacher, and it’s only just settled down. No, I don’t want to go into details, but nothing huge happened. There wasn’t any drama or any visible meltdowns. The keyword is visible. It was only yesterday that I managed to truly manage my volatile emotions. Before then, I would come home from group classes feeling sad and from our socials in tears. One night, I was so overcome by both anger and sadness that I had to shut myself up in my room and punch pillows.
After today’s lesson, I felt a rift between my instructor and me. Of course, I can only speak for myself. The genuine happiness that normally accompanies this relationship felt acted. I’ve been distancing myself for fear that I might explode, even though my anger has passed. Still, I’m happy that I’m going on a three-week vacation with the family to the Adriatic. (Since this absence is longer than two weeks, I’m going to try to bring my computer along. That way, I can keep up with this blog.) Sometimes you just have to break away for a little while.