Dancing + The Insecurity Machine

Tonight, I love dancing. Jennalee, ex-exec of Dance Collective, choreographer, and lovely person, is in town for the weekend and so did a hip hop workshop for us. She graduated last semester and moved to Victoria, where she's doing exciting things like joining crews and dancing a ton. We miss her, but she's on to bigger things and we wish her all the best.

She did two workshops tonight. The first one was more classic hip hop - a little pop, a little lock, and a little bit of Jennalee silliness. Even though it was the more kind of stuff she has taught before, I could see the newness in it from her experiences in Victoria. The second hour was all new - contemporary and hip hop all together. She was worried about how it might go, but it was wonderful. And it was to Cosmic Love by Florence + The Machine, which I downloaded yesterday, and which rocks. Go look it up.

I loved dancing tonight. Especially in the second hour, Jennalee gave us lots of room to move and do our own thing. I quit dance when I was 13 and the only thing I hate more than my body was putting it in a leotard and dancing with tiny girls. When I had to special order a size big enough for me, and it took forever to come in, I quit. I have a vivid memory of wearing my sweats and looking at myself in the mirror across the room, an elephant among the tiny, beautiful creatures. I didn't go back. And I have always regretted it.

Today Stella admitted to her blog world her own insecurities, and opened the comments to others to share their own. It all came spilling out for me. This year, being a DanceCo executive, has been amazing. It's been a step in the door. I have danced! Having the title helped me feel kind of like I belonged. Like, "I have this title. I am legitimized". Obviously, the self-consciousness was still there and bled through and it did so in a completely negative way. I acted more like I knew what I was doing when I didn't really. When I needed to reach out and get some help. But I was too worried about losing my grip on this thing I'd lost one already.

I know I'm not a fantastic dancer, and it is too late, really, to change that. I can participate in it, which I love, but I will not be the other girls who move so easily and with such beautiful poise. I can only try to follow along, and stand in awe of them.

Also, my writing is slipping and after a bad bout of being heavily edited in everything I write, I have lost it. And I've convinced myself that my mom is the only one who thinks I can write, and really I can't. And I have no skills. The insecurity, it seems, runs deep. This year has been a good one for avoiding it, but I can feel it swallowing me up again, after all this time, and I'm scared.