Buried Deep Down: Losing My Love of Dance

by Anonymous

A honest account of how someone lost their passion

All of these past events and feelings have acclimated into one giant ball of energy that is weighing me down.

TW: Depression. Here at Lid, we always want to be transparent about what it is like being a dancer. Below is a person's honest account about how they lost their passion for dance and is hoping to gain it back again.

Resources:

TELL (Tokyo English Lifeline).

Yorisoi Helpline for Foreigners.

The problem

I can’t remember the exact moment. It was a gradual avalanche, growing bigger and bigger, chasing me until eventually it trapped me underneath a ball of missed lessons, negative comments and thoughts. I couldn’t shake off the weight of feeling like dance wasn’t enjoyable anymore. I was buried.

From the beginning

For as long as I can remember I have danced. My earliest memories are of me dancing. When I was a child, I would get told off for dancing all the time. In college I was nicknamed Ciara because I was always dancing. In my twenties I worked full time while managing to fit in between five to ten dance lessons per week. Dance was my identity. I’d never thought that one day I would have a queasy feeling at the thought of attending a lesson.

Life in Japan

Just like back home, when I first came to Japan, I worked a full time job while taking lessons after work and on the weekends. I had met a few people at the dance studio doing the same as me, and we created a little friend group. It was great; we would take lessons together and then go out to eat afterwards. We would spend holidays and special events together.

But then some of my friends moved back to their home countries, and I changed jobs. I was working overtime and doing shift work, so instead of attending five to ten lessons per week I was only managing two or three. The other friends in the friend group started to become distant because of various reasons. Being physically exhausted from work and emotionally exhausted from awkward situations with my friends, taking lessons seemed more of a chore rather than fun. But I still wanted to go to support my teachers and to keep my skills up. Then my job moved me to another prefecture in Japan.

Relocating

I wanted this relocation to be a fresh start and discover more of Japan. At this new location I found another amazing dance studio and did a showcase with them. It was fun. But I didn’t build any firm relationships with other dancers because the pandemic hit whilst I was there. Majority of the time I was isolated or when restrictions did ease up a little and I could attend class again there was still no hanging out after class or going to eat together. I did connect with some of my old friends via zoom and online lessons. And then I got relocated again to a new area.

Again I found another great studio and started taking lessons again. But having moved three times within a year (I had to change housing at this new location) dancing wasn’t my focus anymore.

Restarting Again

I changed jobs shortly afterwards which allowed a more flexible schedule and more free time. At this time I was feeling quite negative towards dance. I felt like my level had plateau but people expected more from me because I had been dancing for such a long time. I decided to participate in another dance school showcase. I hoped that by doing this I would make friends, improve my skills and get more energized and happy to be dancing again.

I did for a bit. The build up to the showcase wasn’t intense but it was consistent. Then the performance happened and that was it. The end was so sharp and quick it felt like a shock. I knew this was going to happen because I’ve done various showcases before. But this time felt especially anticlimactic and I didn’t know why.

Under Pressure

The feeling of dance being something I have to do rather than something I wanted and loved to do was something I was so used to by now. So when I stopped dancing to have more time to study for a Japanese test, I didn’t miss it. I have been asked to events, workshops and classes but always find an excuse not to go. I did go to one freestyle session and physically couldn’t dance. My legs were heavy and my body sluggish. I don’t know what happened to me. It felt like I was too hefty to dance.

There have been many times I’m the only foreigner in the space and having the feeling of a constant spotlight on you can get very Big Brother/invasive. Some people may argue that as a dancer you should be used to this feeling because the spotlight is what you want, isn’t it? But to that I’d say there needs to be times where I feel safe to make mistakes, to explore, roam and discover new things without being under a microscope. And a lesson is a place I should be able to do this in because I’m learning. A lot of times this doesn’t happen. The pressure to be perfect is too much.

Looking to the future

I haven’t given up though. All of these past events and feelings have acclimated into one giant ball of energy that is weighing me down. Writing this has helped me visualize it and now I can figure out a way to dig myself out of this avalanche of negativity. Hopefully in the future I will be able to write another piece titled “Digging my way out: Finding my love for dance again”.