Unconditionally

A Dancer's Struggle

Stella's POV

I stood in front of the mirror, the harsh fluorescent lights glaring down at me, illuminating every perceived flaw. My heart raced as I adjusted my leotard, tugging at the fabric in a futile attempt to make it fit better. The mirror felt like a magnifying glass, highlighting my insecurities—my thighs felt too thick, my arms too soft, and my stomach... well, it was never flat enough.

"Focus, Stella. Just breathe," I whispered to myself, trying to shake off the gnawing anxiety that wrapped around me like a vise. Today was the day of my big showcase, the one that could define my future in the dance world. All my hard work, countless hours in the studio, and sacrifices had led up to this moment.

But instead of excitement, I felt only pressure. Ms. Beack, my instructor, had drilled it into my head that this performance needed to be perfect—every movement, every expression, every single detail. "You need to be a vision, Stella!" she had insisted, her voice echoing in my mind. "The audience should feel your passion, but they must also see the ideal image of a dancer."

The ideal image. That phrase haunted me. I longed to express myself through my art, to feel the music flow through my veins and come alive with every step. Yet, the more I tried to connect with my dance, the more the pressure mounted. The fear of not fitting the mold, of not being good enough, felt suffocating.

"Stella!" A familiar voice broke through my thoughts. Alison, my best friend and fellow dancer, burst into the studio, her bright energy a stark contrast to my self-doubt. "Are you ready? You're going to crush it out there!"

I forced a smile, but it didn't reach my eyes. "Yeah, I guess. Just trying to work out the last few details."

Alison placed her hands on my shoulders, her grip firm and reassuring. "You've put in so much work. Just remember why you love to dance. This isn't just about the showcase—it's about sharing your passion."

If only it were that simple. "I know, but..." I hesitated, glancing back at the mirror. "What if I don't look the way I'm supposed to? What if I mess up?"

"Hey," Alison said softly, her eyes locking onto mine. "You're not just a dancer; you're an artist. And artists pour their hearts into what they create. Just let go of the fear."

I wanted to believe her, to let the fear wash away. But every time I tried to embrace my true self, the nagging voice in my head reminded me of the expectations—the size, the shape, the image. The pressure to conform felt relentless, and the struggle seemed insurmountable.

As we warmed up together, my thoughts drifted. I remembered the countless times I had skipped meals or over-exercised, convinced it was the only way to achieve the body that would make me worthy of the title "dancer." The mirrors reflected every attempt to be perfect, but all I saw was disappointment.

"Stella, you're not alone in this," Alison said suddenly, as if sensing the weight on my shoulders. "We all have our battles. Just remember you're not defined by how you look."

But I couldn't shake the feeling that the dance world didn't see it that way. It wasn't just about the art; it was about the image. And that image was something I was still struggling to attain.

"Thanks, Ali," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I just want to feel free when I dance. Like I'm flying."

"Then fly," Alison encouraged. "Let the music carry you away. Just be you."

As the music began to play, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, letting the rhythm pulse through me. For a fleeting moment, I felt the weight lift, and the art of dance beckoned me with open arms. But just as quickly, the doubts crept back in, whispering their familiar taunts.

No matter how hard I tried to soar, the fear of not being enough held me down. And as the countdown to the showcase ticked closer, I couldn't help but wonder if I would ever find the freedom I so desperately craved.

In that moment, as I danced in the solitude of the studio, I longed for a way to break free from the chains of expectation that bound me.