Forgive and forget ain't so easy

Throwing around the "forgive and forget" cliche makes the act of doing so sound as simple as wash, rinse, repeat. On the contrary, friends.

Oh sure, we can delude ourselves into thinking that forgetting about something that someone did that cuts into our hearts is just a matter of thinking about it, and boom, it's done. Maybe in some cases, in cases involving simple offenses that don't injure beyond a superficial scratch. But when harboring anger at an offense from months ago, a gash that is deep and throbbing, genuine forgiveness is more an act of daily exorcism.

Harboring bitterness, resentment and rage is so very toxic. Often we mistakenly believe that holding on to that anger will hurt the perpetrator in return for the pain they caused us. Oh, how deceiving that is. In all reality, we hurt - prolong the hurt - no one but ourselves.

It's hard to forgive. It is painful and tiring. It is a daily process until every last poisonous tendril is uprooted and healing can begin.


I did not realize until yesterday during a conversation with a very wise friend that I am very angry indeed. I've been harboring it for a couple of months. In doing so, I allowed it to grow, to fester, to permeate areas in my life that it did not initially reside. It's a tricky little thing, anger... entangles itself like a relentless vine, twisting and tangling over, around and through everything it touches. It makes sense, too, now that I think about it. I've been indifferent to things that normally snap my attention right up. Creativity and inspiration have been elusive, sporadic at best or simply resulting from necessity. I've avoided people to avoid addressing any heart matters or having to honestly answer "how are you?" inquiries (for I am a terrible liar). Oh, I've pretended to be tough, to be the stoic ninja that is incapable of weakness, and for awhile there I had quite a convincing act.

Ironically though, my behavior and attitudes toward things perplexed even me. I could not understand why I was completely indifferent to how my choreography project ended up last semester. Or why I cared less about how I performed in my modern dance final exam? Why was I counting the remaining months, weeks and days in the semester until it was over and I could get away from that place? Why now, knowing I should in the very least be doing barre exercises in my kitchen to maintain some level of dance conditioning over the break, can I not even bring myself to consider dancing without feelings of dread bubbling up? And most of all, where the heck did the sassy, doesn't-accept-defeat-without-a-good-fight ninja go??

Well duh.

The fact that I don't even want to dance kills me. And that angers me the most.

Sharing all of this with my friend, combined with his legit two cents on how to reclaim me, immediately lifted some weight and I feel lighter. And the instincts to fight and show 'em what's up started to resurface.... they're faint, but they're there.

I want my dance mojo back, dammit. And I'm going to get it.

Someone pleeeeeease buy me this tee...

xoxo
J

{Images via We Heart It}

Adventures in Chicago: you are stronger than you think you are

This is the fourth and final week of the intensive and my time in Chicago! I would be lying if I said I was sad about it - I'm freakin' excited!!

I started the week with the attitude that I was on the downhill side of things and I could relax. BIG mistake. The week has turned out to be like climbing a very tall mountain - you're almost to the summit, so you think the last hundred yards will be a walk in the park, but suddenly the normal path with a gradual elevation gain you've been climbing turns into an almost-vertical boulder field that you must scramble up. Oh goody. You look up at it feeling discouraged and like the mountain won. That's been my week.

I thought I was past feeling beat up and inadequate after the first week, but this week brought on another round of serious self-doubt. Sure, Aunt Flo's presence probably had something to do with my lack of thick skin, but I know she was not the only culprit. Monday night we did a run-through of the show and it wasn't so hot - the big boss man was there, meaning the artistic director of Deeply Rooted... I will just say that this man's presence is awe-inspiring and intimidating and humbling and stress-inducing all at once. He's very tall, he's big and muscular, he's very talented, and he has no qualms of screaming at you if something is even slightly amiss. We were all completely on edge. Tuesday night the entire ensemble rehearsed the final piece in the show, called "Heaven", and the big boss man was in charge of this rehearsal. You could hear everyone's nerves buzzing in that studio. There were multiple reprimands and stopping and re-starting. I was so stressed that I would mess up that I did mess up, a lot. Getting kicked in the head was just the icing on the cake.

Yesterday morning I had a total emotional break down. I just cried and cried and cried... oh, it was one of those fall-to-your-knees-and-put-your-head-on-the-floor kind of cries, no holding back. I felt like I couldn't do this anymore, that I'm not strong enough, that maybe I should reconsider a career in the performing arts. I entertained thoughts of just packing up and heading home. I thought about just focusing on next Tuesday, when I get to go home, numbly going through the motions in these last rehearsals and in the show to make it through. I thought about using getting kicked in the head as an excuse as to why I wasn't working as hard anymore. I felt like shutting down, totally giving up and walking away. Whatever excuse there was, I pondered it.

But then I thought, if I give up, then what?? If I give up just because it's hard and because I'm not sure I have the energy to do it anymore and because I don't think I have the strength to push through to the other side, then am I not just settling for a life of mediocrity?

The answer is YES.

Why live like that????

I'm serious, y'all. Why live like that?? I encourage all of you to peel away the layers upon layers of excuses and doubts and fears and lies you tell yourself as to why you can't do something, accomplish something, pursue something, become something. The peeling process is going to hurt. It's going to hurt badly and it's going to be scary as hell. Trust me, I've been living it for the past three and half weeks, and I have a feeling that it's not over yet for me... But YOU ARE WORTH IT. I am worth it! I would say that a lot of what holds us back in life is nothing other than ourselves.