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MATTHEW MURPHY |
I’ve known about this for two months now, but I feel as if it’s the right time to discuss a major life change.
38-4-34. Even a year away couldn’t make me forget that combination. For four years I
used it two or three times a day to open my locker at ABT. In that time I had five or six other locks that I lost and forgot, but this one touched my hands so many times that the numbers were as ingrained as my own birthday.
Each time I opened it I would be surprised at the remnants of days passed that I’d left to collect at the bottom: energy bars, old water-bottles, a pair of tights I’d been looking for for weeks. All things that built up to create a mountainous grab-bag of dancer memorabilia. They are all things that are now covered in dust.
When I opened the metal door five days ago, I felt like I’d time traveled back to my old life. Only this time I hadn’t come to collect my things at the end of a workday, I’d come to collect my things for the last time. At the end of July, I will be removed from the roster of ABT.
It was this week a year ago that I found out I had Epstein Barr Virus (EBV). Never in my wildest nightmare would I have imagined it progressing to this stage. As I looked into the pile at the bottom of the locker I noticed a pair of red booties, once vibrant, now covered in a thick coating of dust. On the top shelf: a pair of half-sewn pointe shoes from my last day of rehearsal when I was learning the role of Bottom in The Dream.
For a moment I questioned if these items were indeed mine. I don’t feel like the same person I was a year ago; I’m not the same person I was a year ago. When asked what I do for a living, my once solid stock answer of “dancer,” now catches in my chest, unsure of its ability to make an appearance to the world.
The backpack I was carrying was proof of that professional change. What was once a dance bag now housed a set of dance clothes to take barre, a camera to photograph my friend’s rehearsal, and a computer to work on magazine articles afterward. I feel more like a writer and a photographer at the moment than I do a dancer, and I ask myself how I can own that title if I’m not actively engaged in the profession.
Yet looking in the bag as it sat beside my locker, I realized how I am not defined by what my profession is, but by how I handle myself through everyday life. The three letters “ABT” may have been replaced by “EBV,” but I know that neither define who I am. At the moment I’m not dancing, but I am still a dancer in my soul and I can’t wait to be back performing again.
With the absence of ABT, in many ways, I will be the most lost I’ve ever been. But as is typical with the universe, it has mysterious ways of teaching us lessons. EBV has informed my spirit in a way that I never would have thought possible a year ago; it has grounded me and taught me about what I want in life. Every change it has initiated has been more drastic than I ever could have anticipated, but I’m still soldiering on and defining myself by my strength of character and not by my profession for the first time in my life. No choice but to brush off the dust and start anew…I’m sure it won’t be the last time.
Here’s a toast to the future and whatever it holds in store.
Thanks to everyone for the support over the past year. I certainly won’t stop blogging anytime soon and I have faith that I’ll be back dancing soon…
