Dancing with Grief

Preface: This was written as a reflection on retirement, but given the current situation with COVID-19, I wonder if this commentary on grief might speak to the dance community. It is my belief that honoring our grief, and our body’s needs, will help us through this challenging time. Many blessings, I hope this serves you.

Dear Dancer, 

It is my belief you are aware of the inevitable end of your time on the stage. Whether it’s a last performance with a ballet school, or the end of long or short career, we know that our opportunities for dancing will be fewer and more limited as we age. You are also most likely familiar with Martha Graham’s famous words, “A dancer dies twice.” While I was dancing, I had the constant subtle awareness of the grief that would accompany the end of my career. It was always lurking in the shadows of the wings. Could this be my last performance? Could this be the end? For as long as I can remember, dancing was my way of coping with the grief of living a human life in this world. I believe that I’m not alone in this experience. That dancing is a way of living with the collective grief of our planet and also our individual life circumstances. That it is a way of dealing with the suffering that comes with the human experience. I have always been a highly sensitive person. To lose this medium - dance as a way of coping in the world -I felt that my grief was compounded. Retiring was not simply the loss of an identity, but also the loss of a unique and distinct way of surviving in the world. Dancers are artists after all. What happens when we can no longer practice our art? When we no longer have the daily ritual of moving in our bodies? In my experience, when I did not have the opportunity to dance, I felt unhinged in a way that is difficult to explain.

How do we begin to process this immensely overwhelming grief at the end of our careers? I have been searching for an answer to this question. 

On social media there are highlights of dancers’ accomplishments in other careers after ballet. I believe it is important to show that a dancer’s skills and tenacity are transferable and applicable to a variety of other career paths. This can offer inspiration and assurance that there is life beyond the barre. However, what about the space between? What about the transition period? What about the grief and the grieving process? Too often we skip over the difficult chapter in the story and look for a happy ending. Perhaps we are simply trying to keep up appearances on the stage of life. Our performance never ends. “She was a professional dancer and then she went on to be xyz…” This narrative can be inspirational, but sometimes it can be cripplingly destructive. The pressure to succeed in another career can be immensely overwhelming and lead to fear and stagnation rather than inspiration.

There currently isn’t a space for the grief and loss inherent to a career in ballet. Every dancer will die twice. I want to bring attention to this grief. I want to hold space for this grief. I want to start this conversation. This conversation is important. It is heavy, and it is necessary. I believe there is also a layer of shame and perfectionism attached to this conversation. As Brené Brown so eloquently says, “If we share our story with someone who responds with empathy and understanding, shame can’t survive.” This conversation is vulnerable, and that’s frightening. Heck, I’m scared writing this! But this is what I wanted to hear, and needed to hear, when I retired. That’s it is ok to feel depressed about the end of your career, and anxious about the future. It’s ok to not be ok for a time.

For a long time after my career ended, I felt like the reason I was struggling was because I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. I always felt that my sole purpose was to be a ballet dancer. And like all of us, I had to fight so hard to achieve this dream. So after my career ended, my next steps were completely unclear. Many dancers are goal oriented high achievers and it’s our inclination to dive into the next goal and begin climbing the next mountain. I felt lost not knowing where to place my energy. Without having a direction, I found myself in stillness. And in that stillness, I had to face the quiet heaviness of grieving the loss of something I love.  

I looked for healing on various paths, thinking I could make it “ better” as our society so often tells us to do with our difficult emotions. What I discovered is that the pain of this grief is not something to “fix” or make go away. It is through feeling this grief that makes the art I love, and it is what will also bring a form of healing. Francis Weller says that grief is soul work. Dancing and grief go hand in hand. They are both expressions of the soul. Weller suggests developing a relationship with grief. To ask yourself, “can I learn to walk alongside grief like a companion that will never go away?” We all experience grief in life. As dancers, when we lose our coping mechanism for grief it is incredibly difficult. Allowing yourself the time and space to grieve this loss is important. It is a loss, it is a death. Treating it accordingly and allowing yourself to mourn will help in the long run. 

If you're a dancer who is struggling, I want you to know that you’re not alone. Please know that your feelings are valid. We grieve, because we loved. Francis Weller lists the First Gate of Grief,  as “Everything We Love, We will Lose.’ And ‘every love has this hidden agreement; every love agrees that you will also deal with its absence.” During your time of grief, please try to be gentle and kind with yourself. Do what you can, and don’t put pressure on yourself to figure out your whole life. Take small steps that feel right to you. Things will fall into place at the right time. Find stillness. Find support. Find community. I hope to begin an open conversation here. Writer, speaker, and grief advocate, Megan Devine says, “Grief is a lonely experience. Companionship, reflection, and connection are vital parts of surviving grief. We need each other. We all need a place where we can tell the truth about how hard this is, where we can share what’s really going on, without feeling corrected or talked out of anything.” If this message speaks to you, please share your story. I want to hold space for this conversation, for your own dance with grief. You don’t have to perform anymore. 

Love,

Liz

Resources:

The Wild Edge of Sorrow: Rituals of Renewal and the Sacred Work of Grief by Francis Weller

It’s Ok that You’re Not Ok: Meeting Grief and Loss in a Culture that Doesn’t Understand by Megan Devine