"When you give it to him, tell him I still fear thunderstorms, but it’s gotten a lot better after going through a lot of them together.
Because really, it’s one thing to find someone who would keep you sane through a thunderstorm, and another thing to help you get over your fear of it altogether.” #LightningMail
Quick update (09/15/14): I went to see my neurologist again yesterday, and she broke the good news: it wasn’t a seizure. While it is impossible to rule out neurogenic reasons for what happened to me on the evening of September 5th, my worries have decreased immensely. My brain is still functioning normally.
On the 19th, I take my first 2D Echo in years, and get hooked on the Holter Monitor for 24 hours to monitor my heart activity. I have already been diagnosed with two heart diseases in two decades, and I won’t be very surprised to know that my heart played a role in my syncope.
This is my reality now,
but I will never
I’m going to get better.
Haruki Murakami, Kafka on Shore
Happy birthday, Miko! Your works are a testament to the life that you lived, and I am so thankful to have witnessed it. I won’t ever forget you, Miko; not when I have so much to thank you for. #IkawAkoMagnumOpus
P.S. I did as you asked. Sorry it took so long, but I want to believe that there was no better time than today.
Two nights ago, I felt an overwhelming longing to put on my leotard and ballet shoes. It took me awhile to find the paper bag stuffed with several tights, leotards and ballet shoes I’ve acquired over the years - it being hidden at the very top of my closet, along with other belongings I have not used in years. Upon seeing the big, pink paper bag, I went over its contents one by one. Hurriedly, I wore my leotard under my cycling shorts, and slipped on my pale pink ballet slippers.
With no warm-up, I walked over to the corner of my room and attempted a pirouette en pointe. Well, that went horribly. In place of confidence, there was fear.
I hadn’t done this in three years.
I might break my ankles.
I feel so heavy.
I’m losing balance.
In the middle of my thoughts, I walked to my laptop, went on YouTube and played Tchaikovsky’s “Waltz of the Flowers”, the one waltz I’ve wished to participate in all my life. As it played, I pretended my door handle was a barre, and did the warm-up exercises I was trained to do for several years.
When I felt like I had done enough, I turned my video on and improvised the choreography of the last Nutcracker production I was in. Reconstructed only by memory, it was rough, it was wrong, but strangely enough, I did not stop.
All of a sudden I remembered all the dreams and frustrations I had, from excitedly picking out my first uniform, to crying and screaming in the shower to avoid having to go to ballet early Saturday morning as a child. I remembered the transition of having classes from the Baby Ballet Room to the Rehearsal Hall, and how I always positioned myself on the far-end of the second row during center exercises because I believed it was the “safest” position to be in. I remember shopping for my first pair of pointe shoes, and how standing on them always felt like a form of freedom; of achievement, of pride.
It is my deepest regret not to have done well, not to have continued, and not to have built on my dreams, but if you asked me, “Would you still do it?”
Without a second of doubt, I would. Over and over again.
Two years after writing this, my feelings have not changed. But one day, I hope they will. I hope I will.