A TV Show Triggered Me to Heal Part I: What Ballet Meant to Me…and What It Did When My Parents Took It Away

I know I’m late to a lot of things in my life…

late to blossoming, late to building THE career, late to binge-watching Suits.

Bear with me…

But one of the many things I love about the show is Louis’ unwavering dedication to

THE BALLET…

I’ve ALWAYS had and will continue to have a deep connection to ballet. One conversation Louis had with Jessica struck me. It struck so hard at this particular moment enough for me to be inspired to write this—a piece that I will not keep to myself.

Louis said the ballet was the center, the foundation of EVERYTHING. And trust me, I’ve heard this before…

This particular moment, however, burned inside my mind and my heart simultaneously. The little, libra girl in me had her scales tipped, her light diminished before she even got a chance to start…

I’ve been a people-pleaser for the greater part of my life, a clear indication of one of my MANY trauma responses. But the decision to quit dancing was not my own…

We moved from the city to the burbs during my 6th grade year. I’m sure you can guess how difficult that time could be. My mother and I toured a few studios, and I remember beaming! I was anxious about the move like most kids would feel, but I thought that if I had ballet…

I didn’t care that the other girls didn’t look like me, (trust when I say, I NOTICED) but my mom did. My body wasn’t contoured and defined and petite like the other girls, and my mom noticed that too…

I fought with the idea of her interpretation of me: did she not believe in me or did she want to save me from the potential criticism I’d face? Either way, I wasn’t given the chance to prove myself or even fail.

And THAT ladies and gentlemen is MY foundation—I subconsciously told myself if they tell me no, I CAN’T.

My family DID tell me, or rather it was required, that I must excel in my academic endeavors, and I DID that in schools that barely supported me. I often felt like the poor, black girl from Southwest Atlanta, I couldn’t compete with the other kids there. No matter how many extracurricular activities I did, the 3.9 GPA I received, how many hours I tried convincing myself to the idea I was good enough, it was NEVER going to be enough.

But, I walked across the stage with my head held high. I never for a second thought I’d only have two more years with the person who guided me through so many of my choices…

You ever heard the saying, “You live once but die twice”?

Well my first death came September 27, 2011.

My mother died.

Yeah, that happened five days before my birthday sophomore year of college.

I remember the numbness…I had so many unanswered questions and feelings. I was still only a teenager entering the BEGINNING of womanhood without her…

Her ASCENSION was misunderstood then because we ALL so selfishly focused on the individual rather than the whole, and despite some of her actions or inaction, she was our whole—she IS my whole…

I returned back to the university only two weeks after her funeral. I didn’t know anything else except to bury myself in my work…

Here I was feeling like the poor, black girl from Southwest Atlanta all over again. But at least at school, I could make my own decisions in regards to my life and curriculum. So I did what any dancer and scholar at heart would do—I danced in every single required PE class I could! I moved up to even the most advanced ballet class, including modern dance as well! I branched out and started yoga classes! I even studied Spanish abroad in Spain for six weeks! Those opportunities (and my therapist Dr. Loman) channeled my energy and my grief onto a better path forward during a time I needed healing…

But grief is an ongoing journey of highs and lows.

I’ve been in search of my foundation even STILL.

No one tells you about the grief you feel after you graduate from a collegiate level…

What would I do without my mom? What would I do without dance OR my counselor? What would I do without school? I was good at school, and without that how could I prove my worth to my family? I had to not only fulfill my own expectations but my mother’s…

So, I worked.

Worked my way right to declining health, just like my mother did…

I took on too much responsibility and pressure and even returned to school. I received a Master’s degree in Creative Writing not just because I love writing—I felt compelled to prove my worth yet again.

I never had much confidence to begin with. In hindsight, the inability to instill that in me was my parent’s greatest failure, a failure that I PRAY will relinquish its hold…

But, I won’t quit.

See the thing is, God blessed me so many times and with so many gifts. If you are a believer despite your trials like me, I know how difficult it is to take that leap of faith on your own terms.

But like the “ah-ha” moment I had today watching a tv show, I only ask that you allow inspiration to come however it may. Trust in your journey, and trust in GOD!

Know that despite it all, The Creator IS your assurance, your light, and your foundation!

Stick with me, and let’s start healing together!

-Mariah's Got Nerve