A couple of weeks ago, the husband booked tickets for us to see Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake. Now, I love ballet, I mean, really, really, adore it. When I was 16, I lived and breathed dance. I studied performing arts at college, so my days consisted of ballet, tap, jazz, and contemporary classes. I’d get home, exhausted, but instead of resting, I’d practise until my feet throbbed. I was deeply in love with everything about it, obsessed even. I was determined to make a career out of dance, not just because I knew I was really good, but I was in awe, mesmerised by everything about it. If you do something you love, you never work a day in your life, right? When I was 21, I decided to quit. It was completely out of the blue. I can’t actually remember why I decided to walk away from it all. Maybe it started feeling too technical? I never used to think about the steps. I’d solely focus on the way my body reacted to the music, the movement and that feeling I used to get in the pit of my stomach – a feeling I can’t quite describe, other than an aching, a desire, a want and a need to perform, because it made me feel so alive, and so utterly invincible. I think that burning passion faded overtime. I became too aware of my body – aware of what I was doing and instead of letting my body feel the music, I heard it.Watching Swan Lake last night, I kept asking myself the same questions over and over – Why did I quit? Why did I stop? Why didn’t I just carry on? Why, just why? Why, I’ll never know. All I know is that Swan Lake was beautiful, so beautiful, as was my husband in his smart suit, and those peanut butter cups that we devoured in the space of ten minutes.
Happy Valentine’s, everyone.
Tell somebody you love them.