Long post ahead!! (pls excuse my grammar T___T )
"A Trimester Odyssey: My Freshman Year As A Dance Major"
I had no idea what I was about to experience.
All I could remember was that a surge of excitement and anticipation was all I felt when I received an email that read, "We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to the De La Salle-College of Saint Benilde."
Anticipating the joy of returning to dance after a 4-year break, little did I know that beyond the grace and beauty of the dance floor, a landscape of mental challenges awaited, ready to test the limits of my passion and determination. My freshman year unfolded as a transformative odyssey through the stages of adaptation, self-doubt, and realization. Each trimester was a chapter of growth, a dance of challenges and triumphs that sculpted not only my technical prowess but also my understanding of the artistry within.
My first term was a dance of its own as I grappled with the nuances of transitioning from contemporary dance to the vibrant world of hip-hop. Hip-hop demanded a complete shift in my dance vocabulary; as a dancer accustomed to the graceful lines of ballet, fluidity of movements and emotional storytelling of contemporary, embracing the syncopated rhythms and high-energy attitude of hip-hop was so foreign to my body—a feat that tested my physicality and my artistic versatility.
To make matters even more challenging, I found myself learning to dance within the confines of my room due to the shift to online learning. Dealing with an unreliable internet connection, persistent lags, and the unpredictable backdrop of construction noises made it nearly impossible to maintain focus and establish a clear boundary between my living space and workspace.
Amidst the turmoil, my struggle with adapting to hip-hop was not merely a phase of mastering new steps; it entailed a mental shift, a willingness to unlearn the rigidity of classical training and to embody the free spirit essence of hip-hop. It was a journey marked by trial and error, as I learned to surrender to the unfamiliarity and embrace discomfort. It proved to be a constant work in progress, involving vigilant observation and learning from my fellow dancers, as well as creating tools to help me adapt in each class.
I continuously navigated my way through until the onset of the second term, eagerly anticipating the moment when we would finally set foot in the dance studio. I believed everything was fine as we finally returned to dancing in the studio, but everything started to feel like a blur into my everyday routine. I often experienced a sense of exhaustion without any apparent reason, lacking enthusiasm as I approached the studio everyday. I reached a point where I had exhausted all my tools, and even the "fuck it!" tool failed to help me. The weight of concern about potentially losing my motivation loomed over my thoughts, yet upon witnessing my seniors' dance thesis production, it became clear how much I longed for the thrill of performing on stage again. The repetitiveness of doing the usual combinations inside the familiar studio, left me drained. My body yearned to dance not solely within those studio walls, but also under the spotlight of the stage.
The third term unfolded like a battleground. I would say this term took a significant toll on my mental health, bringing about the most stress and pressure I have ever faced. Surrounded by fellow amazing dancers with unique styles and backgrounds, I couldn't help but feel small. Revealing vulnerability through dance triggered a range of anxieties, as I feared my artistic expression might be overshadowed or overlooked in the crowd of diverse talents. The internal impulse to compare myself to my peers, coupled with my tendency to overthink, was like a relentless choreographer who choreographed its own narrative in my mind. Every pirouette and leaps was accompanied by a mental chorus that echoed in my mind:
I frequently dissociated from everything by the sheer weight of pressure. The fear of not measuring up to my peers or the impossibly high standards I set for myself became a constant companion, each dance class pushed me to persistently correct and scrutinize even the tiniest mistakes I made. The need for perfection felt like I was being greedy, this was because I dreaded the potential disappointment of my ballet teachers, who always kept their eyes on me. The desire to meet the expectations of my teachers, peers, and even myself manifested as an internal monologue that often stifled my spirit. I had to constantly shake my head to wake myself up at every breaking point that almost made me lose my "spark." If it weren't for my hip-hop coach, who was the first to recognize this, I would not have regained my passion—the sole reason as to why I even took this course.
Those nonsensical "what ifs" that I was overthinking amounted to nothing, because I received nothing but overwhelmingly positive feedback from my ballet teacher. I'd be lying if I said it didn't boost my confidence, because for once, I finally received praise—which is rare—and such encouraging words that brought me to tears. Gradually, I realized that the biggest critic I faced was often myself. I finally allowed myself to breathe and let go of the baggage that had been weighing on my shoulders. Eventually accepted that I had to embrace my flaw as a dancer, because after all, there's no such thing as perfect dancers.
Things were looking up as I also had the chance to collaborate with students from other courses for our first live performance. I felt that surge of excitement again; the thrill I had been patiently waiting for had finally come my way. It felt as though my silent screams had reached the heights and were heard. I found a reason to wake up early with a cheerful mood and a sense of motivation. Entering the studio without dragging myself out of slump was no longer a struggle; the new environment and faces to work with was a fresh boost of energy, both overwhelming and exhilarating.
Despite the 8:30am call time and hours of rehearsals that led to physical exhaustion and sickness, I'm grateful that this opportunity to collaborate became a gateway to meeting new people. I crossed paths with wonderful beings who blossomed into unexpected friendships (S/O to Will, Erica, and Pia! If you're reading this, I love you all so much 🥺🌼). I'm happy that I was able to share a part of my artistry with fellow talented artists who appreciated what I brought on stage, despite of the mental challenges I went through.
Returning to the stage felt like returning home; it wasn't foreign but rather like reuniting with an old friend. Stepping onto the stage again didn't make me nervous, even with 300 audience members watching my every move; instead, it was overshadowed by joy and a sense of self-fulfillment. That was the moment I knew I had made the right decision, I chose the right path that "felt right."
If I could travel back in time, I would hug my freshman self who experienced numerous breakdowns. Looking back now, I would laugh at how innocent I appeared during those moments when I struggled to execute the choreography. I had to keep reminding myself that there is always room for improvement, there will always be good and bad days, and I'm progressing at a different pace than everyone else. The late-night practice sessions that pushed me beyond my comfort zone, the encouraging words from my teachers who saw potential in me, and the applause from an audience that appreciated my artistry—they were reminders that my dedication and hard work were paying off, and that pursuing my passion was truly worthwhile.
I'm still in the process of learning and will likely continue to do so because learning doesn't stop at a certain age. In the end, my freshman year was not just about dance; it was about navigating the complexities of life, learning to believe in myself, and finding the motivation to pursue my dreams.
