I wrote a thing. Finally. This thing I wrote for Very Smart Brothas explores how I've been using ballet to help me fight depression, which sucks balls:
"A few weeks ago, I walked into Broadway Dance Center and bought a 10-class card, ending months of wanting and planning and needing to get back into dance, specifically ballet. I promised myself that I would dive back in when I landed in New York in July, and then life happened, but still I rise, and so here we are. I’m opening up my hips and getting my fifth position back together again, in the same studio where I first met my friend, the grand plié, several pounds and eight years later.
I kicked off Operation: Aggressive Self-Care by joining a gym in December, but until last week, I had only been twice. For all of the fall and most of this winter, I haven’t danced or done much beyond a few sporadic push-ups. I’ve largely spent my time spiraling, wallowing, and self-medicating with food, naps and greenery. Stuck in a valley. Thankfully, power-walking around this food-rich city has helped keep my double chin at bay. The challenge: Get the hell out of this slump and cut back on sitting and stewing in the anxiety, self-loathing, and nothingness. Crotch holes caused by brawling, cheese grits-fed thighs (and a softening, expanding midsection) told me it was time to get moving again. Besides, lovehandles don’t banish themselves. Enter: ballet.
Each class reminds me how out of shape I am. I am reminded during the adagio near the end of each session, when we come center and slowly string together the various movements we work on daily, and my legs tremble and my breathing becomes more audible. Or when my teacher, Dorit Koppel, comes beside me to demonstrate that my leg can, in fact, stretch longer and higher when doing a développé. But: no pain, no poppin’ body-ody.
Everything hurts so good."
Read the rest over at Very Smart Brothas.
Have a gander at all ze things I've written for Very Smart Brothas here.