"You will probably never be able to dance again. I'm sorry."
The words that every performer has nightmares about hearing, but never dreams that it would actually happen to them in real life. Well, it did for me.
2nd September 2013 was the day that those words became a reality for me. I was devastated. I couldn't hold my tears in and I literally just broke down. The doctor left and they sent my partner into the cubicle where I told him what they had just said to me. He didn't know what to say, but he just held me and let me cry into his arms.
I tried to stay positive. "Probably never", they had said. Not definitely never. That meant that there was still a chance and I had to hold onto that glimmer of hope. That all changed on 13th October 2013. The 'probably' was taken away from me, and I was told that I had no chance of ever being able to dance again.
Heart broken. That's the only words I can use to describe how I felt. My lifelong dream had been to be a professional performer, and I'd just achieved that a few months before it got ripped away from me. I felt so lost, so confused. All my life, I had worked towards this goal and as soon as I'd achieved it, it was snatched away from me again.
My life had come to a standstill when the realization hit me. I will never perform again. What was I supposed to do for the rest of my life? Performing wasn't just my job, it was my life. Every hobby that I had revolved around performing, as well as my job. Every little thing I do is based around the sole goal of performing. "You must have a back up plan," everyone kept telling me, and they were right, I did. I had always had a back up plan prepared in case I never reached my goal of being a performer. The problem was, I couldn't do that either.
My back up plan had always been to teach performing. If I couldn't perform on a stage myself, I could teach other's to do so. I couldn't even fall back on my back up plan, because even my back up plan required me being able to do some level of dancing. I felt so lost and broken. I spiraled into depression and every day, I asked myself what I was living for.
A glimmer of hope came for me on 20th February 2014 when I had another specialist appointment with the severe injuries department. They told me I was making good progress and signed me off from seeing them, which meant I only had to have physiotherapy and strength training now. "Will I be able to dance again?" I asked them. "Probably not." They replied. Most people would have been disappointed by this reply, but it gave me so much hope. The probably that had originally been there and then had been taken away had returned. Surely that was a good sign? They hadn't told me that I could definitely not dance again, like they previously had. That little glimmer of hope was back in my life.
I went to strength training a few months later and I told my lovely trainer about what they'd said. I asked him what he thought about being able to dance again and his reply was, "You can do anything if you put your mind to it." That one sentence gave me the hope and determination that I needed.
Ever since my accident, I've had different exercises that I've had to do every day and they've got progressively harder. I now have an extensive list of things that I have to do every day and I'm working hard at them. (There are a few videos on my instagram if anyone is interested in what I have to do.) His belief has given me the extra push that I needed to believe in myself and my abilities.
Against all the odds, I'm determined to dance again. Doctors - sit back and watch, because I am about to prove you wrong.
Clare
(twitter / instagram)
xxx
0 comments :
Post a Comment