Stage Fright

Word count: 1986

It was a cold night. The snow was falling down, quite nicely but landing into big piles. I grabbed the dance bag that I have used for years. It has brown and black leopard spots on it and said dance in big, bold letters. I also grabbed my large gray sweatshirt that says Timber Wolves on it. I told my dad, "I'm ready to go." and I started walking out to the car. I was scared, nervous, and almost about to cry. I hadn't taken a step into the garage, and I almost threw up. Why? Let me explain.

Something I newly discovered about myself is I have arachnophobia. If you don't know what that is, it's the intense fear of spiders. You might think, oh, ok, not so bad, but when you realize how deeply it affects a person's every step, you can see how dreadful just going into a different room can be. That is precisely why I try to avoid the garage at all costs. Which honestly isn't much because I can just go out through the side door.

But tonight was different. The car wasn't outside, as usual. I had to go through the garage, so I waited patiently for my dad to come outside to unlock the car so I didn't have a panic attack right before dance. He slowly made his way out to the garage and opened the car doors. I ran so fast into the car you might have just thought I was The Flash. My feet glided over every step, almost not landing on the last one. I practically leaped into the back seat of the car. I had closed the door so fast not a single air molecule left its place. I sat and brushed my arms off with my hands from the feeling of spiders crawling up them. I put my seat belt on as we pulled out of the garage. I sat and stared out of the window at the falling snow.

We quickly arrived at my dance class as it was only a three-minute drive away. I slowly unbuckled my belt and thought to myself, "If I see even a piece of carpet that is pulled up out of place, I think I might lose it." This is how it always felt. An agonizing experience every moment of the day... but the worst was yet to come. 

To help you get the full idea of what is going through my head, I will share some personal details of my life. I have been taking dance for ten years, and it's my home away from home. Dance is, or should I say, was my life. Before this year, I had been struggling with a positive body image. I told myself I was ugly because others said I was. I always knew I wasn't the most beautiful girl, even if my parents told me so. When it came to dancing, I always hated my body. I was never skinny like the other girls, and I never wore the same clothes because I couldn't fit. Everything about me was "wrong." now that you know this bit of information, I think you will understand why I reacted to this situation like this. 

Today was a terrible day for me. I woke up on the wrong side of the bed and felt like the ugliest human to walk planet earth. But I guess we all have those days. I looked down the hall and saw my best friend. We had met each other through dance a long time ago when we both were just starting. I weakly smiled at her even though she couldn't see past the mask covering my face. "Hi, Natalie!" she said to me. I responded back with a pathetic "hey." we talked about the usual things we do before dance. The conversation didn't last long today. Only one or two minutes. We then walked into the theater, where we practice our routines. 

Our teacher took attendance as we walked in. "here," I said quietly. She called more names, and others followed with a "here." (as most do when getting their attendance taken) We started worm ups by doing common stretches. As we did them, I soon became aware I could do the worst out of everyone. One part I absolutely hated was when our teacher made us do the splits and hold them for random amounts of time. Her favorite time was 30 seconds. I got up and in position to start. I went down with my back knee touching the ground, but my front knee wanting to retract back. The worst part about this was we had to do it all ways.