Logic aside, a perfectionist, strong ego forces that impossibly unfair comparison anyway. The likes of Eva probably start dancing when they are children and do it full time their whole entire life, whereas I only do it as a hobby taking one, maximum two classes a week. For how can I watch Eva Yerbabuena perform her solea with such perfection and divine expression and continue to pretend that I can dance at all? I would tell myself that I shouldn’t compare apples to oranges. Hey! I am smart, I am hard working, I am driven … how hard can it be? Learning more only served to illuminate more brightly how much I sucked at it. As a beginner I thought – no problem! I will work hard and figure this flamenco thing eventually like I do with everything else. I arrived to my dance classes feeling like I was on top of my game, I had a successful career, I thought I had figured out the whole mother gig thingy, I was mighty confident. To dance flamenco is to constantly eat humble pie … for me any way. O! How I beat myself up whenever one of those Elens was not performing with absolute brilliance and a big smile on her face. As if I expected to clone myself, with one Elen working in an office building business software and a second Elen that would stay home to make chicken stock from scratch. Even though I worked minimum hours required for my job and travelled for work only when absolutely unavoidable, the heavy sinking feeling in my stomach followed me around. Being a stay at home mom was not financially feasible for me. Then there was the guilt from being a working mom. Yarra eventually outgrew the asthma, with time her lungs got stronger and asthma attacks are thankfully a memory from the past. Why was there this crushing self-flagellation? Did I expect myself to develop super powers and be able to snap my fingers to make the illness go away? Did I think that I could battle asthma with my sheer will power? Perhaps I believed that if I willed it hard enough the health problems would just go away and I wasn’t willing it hard enough so somehow it was all my fault. I did everything in my power to support her both physically and emotionally through it all. I followed all medical instructions and never missed a medical appointment. I was by her side 24/7 each time she was hospitalized. Today when I reflect on those days, I realize that I had nothing to feel guilty about. As I sat next to her bed in the ER room holding her hand, there it was- a heavy sinking feeling in my stomach, I have felt it before and unfortunately was all too familiar with it at this point- guilt. Ten years ago my daughter ,Yarra, was struck by her first asthma attack. An inner voice that keeps saying you are not doing enough, you are not a good enough mother, daughter, sister and wife. What is it about being a woman and guilt? What is it about being a mom – especially – and guilt? Are we handed a special gene that is activated the day we turn 18 and then multiplied the day we give birth. What is wrong with spending some money on yourself especially when you have no financial difficulties?” Thereby giving me permission to spend money, and more importantly time, on myself for no practical reason other than the sheer pleasure of it. He said: “You earn more than enough money, you clearly enjoy the dance classes. I will forever be grateful for what my father told me in response. I told him that dance classes were expensive and I was thinking it was best to save the money towards a more useful goal. It has filled my life with joy, but also broke my heart.Īfter my first year of studying flamenco as a complete beginner I contemplated quitting. As I rehearse for my small role in a dance show, titled Café de Chinitas “Viñetas del Mozaico”, with the guidance of dance teacher and choreographer Kasandra La China, I began to reflect on the unforeseen path that has led me to this point.įlamenco is a mystery which has taken me down a winding road, at times it felt like a maze that I was supposed to solve, other times like a well-crafted science that I needed to study. A middle aged, computer geek, mother of three does not elicit the image of a dancer in my imagination. Eight years ago when I started taking flamenco dance classes, had somebody told me that today I would be in rehearsals for my first professional dance show I would have been seized with a king size laughing fit suitable for a Monty Python marathon viewing.
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