Unconditionally

Dancing with Shadows

Stella's POV

The studio was quiet, save for the soft sound of my feet gliding across the polished wooden floor. Sunlight poured in through the tall windows, casting a warm glow that felt like a sanctuary, but today it felt more like a spotlight illuminating my flaws. I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection, the familiar wave of doubt crashing over me.

"Focus, Stella. You can do this," I murmured under my breath, but my inner critic was quick to respond.

"Really? Look at you. You call that a plié? It's more like a limp noodle," it sneered, echoing the voices that had been haunting me for months.

I pushed through the routine again, determined to silence that voice. I felt the music wrap around me, a lifeline of rhythm and grace, but with each spin and leap, the tightness in my chest grew. I wanted to dance free, to express my passion, but the weight of societal expectations pressed down on me, threatening to crush my spirit.

After what felt like hours of battling myself, I finally collapsed onto the floor, breathless and defeated. The routine had eluded me, slipping through my fingers like sand. I buried my face in my hands, the familiar feeling of frustration swelling within me.

"Hey, Stella! You okay?" Alison's voice broke through the haze, and I looked up to see her standing at the door, concern etched on her face.

"Yeah, just practicing," I replied, though the words felt hollow.

Alison walked over, her brow furrowed as she crouched down beside me. "You don't look okay. You've been pushing yourself too hard. What's going on?"

I hesitated, the urge to brush it off clawing at me. But her genuine concern pierced through the walls I had built around myself. "I don't know. I just feel... off. Like I'm not good enough. I can't seem to get this routine right."

She frowned, her expression softening. "Stella, you're one of the best dancers here. You have so much talent. But this? This isn't just about the dance, is it?"

I bit my lip, staring down at the floor. "I've been struggling with my body image. I feel like I need to look a certain way to be a good dancer, you know? And... I've been skipping meals. I thought it would help."

Alison's eyes widened, a mixture of concern and understanding flooding her expression. "Stella, that's serious. You can't keep doing this to yourself. It's not just about how you look; it's about your health. Your passion for dance should be liberating, not this heavy burden."

"I know, I know," I sighed, the weight of her words settling heavily in my chest. "But every time I look in the mirror, all I see are the things I hate. I can't help but think if I just lost a few more pounds... maybe then I'd feel free enough to dance."

"Listen," Alison said, her voice firm yet gentle. "You are so much more than your body. Dance is about expression, not perfection. Your joy shines through when you let go of these constraints. You need to take care of yourself first, Stella. Your body is your instrument, and you can't play it if it's broken."

Tears pricked at my eyes, a mix of frustration and vulnerability threatening to spill over. "I just want to be good enough."

"You already are," she reassured me, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "But you need to believe that. You're not alone in this, okay? We can figure it out together."

I nodded, grateful for her support but feeling the heaviness still lingering. "Thanks, Alison. I just don't know how to change my mindset. It feels impossible."

"It's a journey, but you're strong. You've faced challenges before, and you can face this too. Maybe start by focusing on how dancing makes you feel rather than how it looks. Find that joy again."

Her words echoed in my mind as I took a deep breath, trying to find a glimmer of hope among the shadows. I knew I had a long road ahead, but maybe it was time to stop fighting against myself and start dancing for the joy it once brought me.

As Alison and I sat in the studio, the sunlight continued to stream in, bathing us in warmth. Perhaps this was the first step—not just in my dance, but in reclaiming my life. I looked up at the mirror again, trying to see myself beyond the layers of doubt and fear. Maybe, just maybe, I could find my way back to the dancer I used to be.