Watching a loved one go through a painful experience is difficult. Someone in my life is dealing with both physical and emotional pain. They’ve really been dealt the short end of the stick this week. Sitting with them, talking with them, and listening to them spew every problem they’ve come across has been really hard for me. I didn’t want to tell them, but I’ve been unconsciously trying to make our conversations shorter because of it.

It’s not that I don’t want to talk to them, I very very much do. I am just awful at comforting people and dealing with my own sense of inadequacy. I feel inadequate because I can’t be there physically to sit with them and offer them a shoulder to cry on. However, as I said, I’m bad at comforting people in general. The distance just makes it that much more difficult.

I tend to distance myself from situations where any kind of pain is involved – a reasonable response to such a scenario, wouldn’t you say? I called my mom not too long ago and explained my frustration to her. I said I didn’t know how to be there for this person without actually being there. She reminded me that relationships are rarely 50/50 and usually end up somewhere around the 80/20 ratio. It was my time to give 80% and suck up the uncomfortable, awkward feeling I had.

So here I am, sitting on the phone with the person I love, listening to them tell me that just being on their screen was a source of comfort. I wonder how I am so lucky to have such loving and beautiful people in my life. As my second to last week at Ballet Divertimento is on it’s downward curve, I realize that my first experience living alone wouldn’t have been half as fulfilling or exciting without all of their support.

That was their 80%, now it’s time for mine. I am fortunate to have the partner I do at 18 years old. I believe our paths crossed at a good time, at a time where our values and ideas complemented each other. They are my number one supporter and I am theirs. Right now, I need to remember all of the times their presence has comforted me and try to apply that same feeling to their situation. I miss them very dearly and I would give so much to be sitting right next to them. Staying on a video call is the least I can do.


Feeling Stuck

Sometimes, we look at big daunting tasks and feel like we will never achieve them. Right now, I am looking at the big daunting task of a four-week ballet intensive in a foreign country that will be taught in a foreign language.

However, I kick myself for worrying about achievement. What am I achieving? Completion? Completing the intensive won’t mean anything unless I give 100% of my effort as much as I can. Am I trying to achieve progress? Possibly, but that may not be measurable in just four weeks. So, why am I worrying about achievement instead of focusing on working to my full capacity every day?

I have a placement class tomorrow that will dictate what I focus on for the next four weeks. I know plenty of my technique is weak or poorly trained, but I won’t dwell on those ideas. My habit of constantly focusing on what I need to improve on is somewhat important but detrimental if not kept in balance with the reality of how much progress I have made. Tomorrow should be about how much I have accomplished since this time last summer.

It is hard to be kind to ourselves when we really want something. It is hard to remember that making mistakes or being imperfect is the epitome of humanity. Finding peace in the idea that you are meant to be flawed is comforting.


Approaching Fear

I do my best not to push my fear to the side. I feel as though ignoring it will only make it much worse when I have to inevitably face it. Lately, I’ve had a lot of fear. Graduating high school did wonders for my self-esteem and stress levels, but definitely did not help the impending sense of dread that accompanies adulthood. It’s all about balance though.

You see, I don’t let fear stop me from doing much. Every once and a while, my fear will paralyze me. Fish, for example, really freak me out. I have always hated swimming with them, eating them, or touching them in general. The only exception would be fish tanks, but that’s really an aesthetic thing. Because of this extreme dislike and fear of fish, I rarely swim in the ocean. I will work myself up to be able to do it, wade into my knees, and freak out at the sight of a little cichlid. It’s really unfortunate, I love everything about the ocean except those finned freaks.

The fear I’m experiencing now is a lot different. It’s less of a fear of something tangible and real, like a fish, and more of a fear of the potential. The potential for failure, for loss, for missed opportunities, that scares me.

But I still won’t let it cripple me. I have to keep moving forward no matter what I fear may stand in my way. My determination and resilience are two qualities I refuse to give up. They sustain me, they inspire me, and they took a lot of work to develop. I have these qualities for moments like this, moments when I need my strength more than anything. I will hold onto it and fall back on it like I am meant to do.

Eventually, when I do face my fear, I will only be stronger because I acknowledged it and didn’t allow it to paralyze me.



Sometimes I wonder how my energy levels are doing. My gauge is strange, I can only recognize when it is at one extreme or another. I’m aware of my hyper-energetic state and my fatigued state.

Today, I woke up with a lot of energy. I was ready to do some work, run some errands, and enjoy my city. I was so happy to finally be in Montreal, I wanted nothing more than to ride the subway and sit down at a cafe on Le Plateau.

I did all of those things. The metro quickly lost it’s charm after four different people sneezed in my general vicinity on the same train. The cafe at Le Plateau was terrific, but my father was not enjoying it. I started to wonder if I would be better as a solo traveler, but that is another blog for another day.

Anyway, we picked up some Bixi bikes after brunch. Bixi bikes are rentable bikes with docks all around Montreal, they’re quite convenient but can be a pain in the ass to return. The docks aren’t too spread out, but they can fill up quickly. My father is also averse to listening to me or letting me take the lead in finding a place, so we ended up taking way more time than needed due to his lack of ability to follow a map.

My energy waned towards 4 or 5 o’clock. We hopped back on the metro but stopped at Berri-UQAM (the massive station that connects three different lines) to see if we couldn’t get my student metro card set up. We ended up leaving the station and walking an extra four blocks to find the right metro office, only to be told that I have to wait until August 1st because I’m not a summer student. My lack of energy then turned to anger which my poor father had to suffer from.

I should probably apologize to him. Although we both messed up in different ways today, I definitely overreacted a few times. But this type of behavior is standard coming from me when I am low on steam. I tend to get irritable, frustrated, and sometimes irrationally angry. It makes matters even worse when I can’t get any privacy to chill out.

Living in Montreal will be a new experience and will most definitely test my energy levels. Walking everywhere, dealing with people all day long, and navigating public transportation will force me to adjust and possibly increase how much bullshit I can deal with.

It’s worth it though. This city is amazing. If you ever stop by, please go to Le Plateau Mont-Royal.



Emotions. Mine have been blocked for eighteen years. I finally started to acknowledge and act on them right before I graduated high school. Most of the people around me have begun to resent me for it.

I still get my work done, I still seek out opportunities, and I still focus on improving myself as a person. On top of this, I am happier than I have been in a long time and I have no doubt it’s because of my new connection with my thoughts and feelings. I’m spending time with the people I care about most, speaking my mind, and being honest with myself.

I graduated summa cum laude, rarely went out with friends, never partied or drank or did ridiculous drugs. I was a perfect daughter for eighteen years, but the second I did something that was out of turn, I became a monster. All of my redeeming qualities gone, all of my accomplishments out the window. I lost the freedom that I thought came with perfection. Of course, it turned out that that freedom was only another form of imprisonment.

For the first time in my life, I feel as though my thoughts are being discredited before I am even able to speak them. Everyone has advice on ideas I haven’t even had yet. They practically trip over themselves to tell me to take advantage of my youth, to be smart about my options, to leave love for the later years. Not a single one has stopped to consider if the thoughts they are offering wisdom on have even come into existence. They don’t wait to think if I have been given the space to nurture those ideas on my own.

It won’t be long before I am actually free, still, it feels like forever. Sometimes the passing events have a funny way of showing you how your past was never the way it seemed. I yearn for the days of ignorance and love. I yearn to rid myself of the hate and anger that accompanies realization.

All in due time.