I came across this photo the other day when I was cleaning up my photo roll and experienced a strange mixture of emotions. Since my surgery, I've been pretty open in the fact that it was one of the my lowest points in life. It was hard to cope with the fact that I felt like I lost a major part of my identity, my past, and my future. I've also been open with how grateful I am for the experience, looking back. My knee is by no means up to standard, but I am keenly aware of the personal growth that I experienced as I was healing, recreating myself, and finding new ways to move my body. I took this picture to serve as the cover of a photobook I created in a writing class. The book was called Tales of a Broken Ballerina, and I think it was one way that I came to terms with the situation I was in. As much as it was me complaining about the pain I was in, it also told a story of hope and of patience and of learning. And at the end of the semester, it was something I was really proud of.
To be honest, I don't know where that photobook is now. I also don't know where the girl in this picture is. I had set the goal to be back in my pointe shoes by my 21st birthday, 2 years after my surgery. And although I have put them on a few times, they just don't feel like me anymore. I reinvented myself and the way I express my emotions, and pointe is no a part of that. And that's okay. Now I breathe myself through yoga classes. And I teach choreography to my friends. And I do contemporary dances with my team. And I find such joy in that. Not necessarily in the movement itself, but joy in my body. Joy in my capability and my strength and my passion. Joy in the healing.
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