Insecurities

HELLO! I'm back again. Took a small break from here to go about my life... but I'll be posting again now.

So recently, almost two weeks ago to be exact, I went compete in my first dance competition. Ever. No biggie.

Actually, big biggie. Really big.

Let's recap.

It was very nerve-wracking... for me, at least. I had gotten there the night before, stayed in a hotel so I wouldn't have to wake up extra early to get ready and get there on time. As I sat in my bed, a soft pillow beneath me and my body ready to doze off, my mind ran like a wild animal. I was sub-consciously running my numbers, going through every single movement and remembering which count goes where and how long I'd have to hold my leg up for this part and how much force I would have to push for my pirouettes and... it just would not stop running.

I ended up losing precious hours I could have spent sleeping, preparing myself for tomorrow. Of course. This always happens to me the night before big days like, say, competitions.

Next day. 8:30 in the morning (what an ungodly hour). Did my hair, shrugged on my competition jacket and other appropriate clothing for the chilly weather, ate breakfast, and headed over to the school auditorium the competition took place at.

Now, my call time wasn't until later, like 4pm or so. We had gotten there to support the soloists performing in the morning. As the day dragged on and more of our dancers got on stage, I became more anxious. More nervous. More... everything, really. I was excited too, absolutely. But watching all the other girls perform, in their sparkly two-piece costumes that show off their flat stomachs and their seemingly endless tricks, I begin to envy them.

Yes, I have insecurities of my own. Mostly about my body. I know I'm not the slimmest of the dancers, or the most flexible, or even the strongest. I know that I could lose a few pounds in a few places, gain some in muscle. Look decent in a costume and just be... better.

These insecurities never seem to go away. They are always there, reminding me. Look at that bulge on your stomach. It shows through your costume. Tuck the flab under your arms. You've got to work on your thighs, they're too big. Look how skinny she is. You don't look like that, do you?

Every. Single. Day.

It takes away from my self-confidence. It gets to my head, seeing our competitors dance before us and waiting in the wings thinking, "Oh, man. They were really good. Their costumes are so cool. They were so together, they had a lot of tricks. Wow. How we are gonna look that good? Crap, they called us in. Okay, 5 6 7 8..."

Yes, I had my mom's and my sister's and my dance friends' endless support, and that helped. But that still didn't change the fact that I was about to perform in front of judges and people in the audience. For the first time in my LIFE. And that my entire group was extremely nervous, and thus, didn't perform like we do in rehearsal.

But that's okay. Because it was it was just our first competition. Because I know how good I am. I bust my ass in every class. I am focused. I am determined. And I work hard to deserve the spots that I get. I work hard to be the best that I can be.

And lately, I've been realizing that I'm at a pretty good place right now. I can see a significant improvement in myself, and that's what matters most. How I feel about myself.

I mean, dang. I've already got a solo part in one of my numbers. I think I can say I'm doing pretty well.

You've got to have confidence in yourself, and don't think why you can't be as good as the others. Try to be as good as you can be.

Growth

Looking back on the past two years or so, I've realized something.

I have grown. Spiritually, physically, and emotionally, that is.

I remember a simpler time when I was young, naive, and worry-free. I had a group of friends who, at the time, really cared for me and liked me. I was oblivious to my step-mom and father's relationship slowly, but surely, breaking down. The fact that my dad wasn't saved and didn't care for the word of God didn't faze me at all.

Now, it's so much different.

I've started hanging out with a different crowd; the older crowd. Once I realized how mature I had gotten, my old friends stopped wanting to hang with me, to talk to me, to be interested in me. And it hurt for a long, long time. But I realized that I couldn't even relate to them anymore, they just weren't at the same maturity level anymore. So I moved on. I got over it and made friends with people that really, truly care about me. That doesn't mean I can't be nice to them, of course. I'll be friendly around them, but if they want to all of a sudden "hang out sometime, I haven't seen you in forever, we never talk anymore," I will politely decline. Because I don't want to spend time with those that didn't care, saw that I gave up and didn't care anymore, and want to make nice and be friends again.

And I've seen more recently how... terrible my stepmom is. I know that sounds really mean, but it is so true. You know those kids you see out in public throwing temper tantrums and demanding things and stuff? And you're like, "Those kids is going to be so spoiled when they grow up"?

She is that kid.

I just... I don't even want to elaborate on it, because it'll take up this entire post. Let's just put it like this... It's gotten so bad that I dread spending weekends at my dad's now.

And so we've reached the more touchy subject. My dad was never a man of faith... He's not even a man who was into his feelings. He's very passive aggressive. I struggle seeing him like this, because I myself am very, very into my feelings, and I just want to share stuff with him like I do with my mom, but it's so hard.

And there's nights that I just sit in bed and wonder... I can't even get him to talk about God, how am I going to show him the gospel? What if I can't do it, can't convert him, can't save him? What if I don't see my dad in heaven? It would haunt me and scare me and I would cry so much.

I learned that when I can't do anymore, when I've done all that I can possibly do, the only thing left to do is let God work in him. I can't save him by myself, and although it really hurts because I'm just me, I need to let God take care of it. I still struggle with it, but I pray every night that he has an epiphany one day, and realizes the only way to be happy is to live for God.

And that's how I've grown. My mind has been thinking about my faith and the people I surround myself with that my younger self would never even consider. I am so grateful God has opened my eyes, and opened up my soul for Him to work in me.

He knew I needed it.

What If?

It's funny... I always say, "Oh, I'm gonna make this really cool blog and write out my feelings and my issues and problems and stuff about life it's gonna make me feel a whole lot better!" and blah blah blah, etc. etc.

And then I end up forgetting about it for 4 months.

Well. It's time to keep this consistent. And this time, I mean it.


......... Let's talk about something.


I recently saw the movie Frozen from Disney, and let me tell you... It was such a beautiful movie. The scenery and the colors and the lighting and the story line and the characters... Oof. They were all so gorgeous. As I was watching it, I was getting giddy, knowing that maybe, just maybe, one day I'd be working on movies just like that.

For the longest time, I've wanted to become an animator. I always had a special appreciation for those cartoon movies from all those different animation companies. I'm pretty much the only one in my family that begs to go to the movie theatre when a new animated movie comes out. I can just... see myself working at one of those companies, creating new ideas and new things and turning them into my own works of art.

It's just... tough right now. I can see myself working there in the future, absolutely, but right now, I see (in myself) lack of artistic skill, lack of technique, lack of growth in my art form. It really frustrates me because I know I have what it takes to become great, but I have so much work cut out for me and it scares me.

What if I can't do what all those great animators did to get to where they are today? What if it's so complex and complicated that it's beyond my comprehension? What if I don't get into the college of my dreams because my portfolio isn't good enough? I have to start building my portfolio someday, I mean, I'm already a sophomore. Two years away from graduating. How the hell am I gonna improve in that little time?

It stresses me every now and then... I forget about it for a while, go about my regular life, and then BAM. It hits me again and I worry. I worry and worry and worry like no one else, let me tell you.

And I rarely let anyone know about it. Only my closest family knows (which is like two people ha.) and even then, I don't get the reassurance I think I need.

I guess only God can give that to me.




Being an artist is tough.

Ah... dance.

It is a lot of work, and a lot more stress on my body and my mind then I thought it would be. Two weeks ago, when I had my first week of school and dance, I was completely tuckered out by the time the weekend rolled around. I was groaning every time I had to move about.

But, no matter. Every week I find myself improving in my technique and strength and flexibility, motivating myself to get fit and get to the place where I want to be (which is secretly what I've always wanted: to be happy with how my body looks).

Now, here's the funny thing... Two years ago, if you were to tell me that I would be dancing competitively on a competition team, I would have laughed in your face. I didn't even want to take the recreational classes in the first place. My sister signed up for a couple, and my mom was like, "Why don't you sign up for a Jazz class? You need some form of exercise during the week." And I was like, "But moooooom, I get exercise everyday. I run downstairs to get a snack every now and then."

But I eventually said yes, and it became a once-a-week sorta thing, just for me to get some physical activity in my schedule. I definitely don't regret it.

Though, at times it's reaaallyyy hard. I'm not the skinniest girl out there, especially in the dance world. And no matter how hard I work, how much I point my feet and squeeze my muscles and spot my head, I'm not where I need to be. And it sucks. It lowers my self-esteem and self-confidence.

And I'm a people-pleaser. It's just who I am. So when I mess up a step in class or stumble or do anything that is the opposite of what I'm supposed to do, I feel like curling into a little ball and crying. I failed her, I think. I'm a terrible person. But I need - NEED - to get rid of that mentality that messing up is the end of the world.

You know how sometimes you have those days where you're like, "Heck yeah, I'm one bammin', slammin' piece of awesome. LOOK HOW AWESOME I AM AT THAT THING!" And then there's days where you're like, "Ewww, what is wrong with me? I can't even do the thing that I thought I could do. No wonder everyone thinks I'm weird."

I feel like that a lot. It's just another thing on the list of things I've got to work on.

Blaaaah. I think my posts are gonna sound like these a lot. Well, I don't have anywhere else to put my thoughts. It's gotta be somewhere, right?

Right.