For most of my life, movement came with a mirror, a schedule, and something I was working toward. I spent almost 20 years in ballet, so my days were built around class, rehearsal, corrections, and performance. Dance taught me discipline, focus, and how to understand my body in a way I am incredibly grateful for. At the same time, movement was always being watched, corrected, and measured. There was always something that could be higher, cleaner, stronger, or more controlled.
When I retired, I didn’t stop loving movement, but I did lose the structure that had shaped most of my life. There was freedom in no longer having to train for a role, an audition, or someone else’s approval, but there was also a strange emptiness. For so long, being a dancer was not only what I did—it was how I understood myself. Without that identity, I had to figure out what movement meant to me when there was no performance waiting at the end of it.
Since leaving dance, I have slowly started moving more for myself. Some days that means Pilates or weightlifting, and other days it is yoga, (trying to) surf, walking, or taking a few minutes to stretch. Trying different forms of movement has reminded me that my body is capable of more than one thing. I can feel strong without needing to look delicate. I can be a beginner, laugh at myself, and do something simply because it is fun.
I am still learning how to move without treating everything like training or comparing my body to what it used to be able to do. That part has not disappeared overnight. But teaching Pilates and pursuing a degree in Kinesiology has helped me keep the parts of dance I loved—curiosity, detail, connection, and expression—while building a healthier relationship with the parts that once felt heavy. My relationship with movement is far less structured now, but it also feels more like mine. I don’t need every workout to prove something anymore. Sometimes I move simply because it makes me feel good and brings me back to myself.
