The Long Road Back to the Spotlight: Navigating Performance Comebacks and Embracing Growth
When I think back to the beginning, it takes me to a time when I was just 11 years old. That's when the first of five intensive corrective surgeries on my legs started. For five long years, the world I had known – the lights, the stage, the thrill of performance – was replaced with sterile hospital rooms, hushed doctor consultations, and the painful journey to recovery.
Being a kid with crutches amidst peers who could run and play freely was a struggle that is hard to articulate. It was not just the physical pain but the mental battle as well. The casual teenage angst was intensified by the bullying I encountered and my growing insecurities about my body. The stage that had once been my second home began to feel like an unreachable dream. But the longing never left me. It was there, an undercurrent in my daily life, a subtle reminder of what I once had and lost.
Restarting my performing career was like setting foot on uncharted territory. My body had changed, I had changed, and with that, my relationship with my craft had changed as well. I was out of practice, and I felt it. I was like an outsider trying to fit back into a world that had moved on without me. The disconnect was real and I struggle to tether myself to it again.
The journey to rekindle my connection with the stage was a humbling experience. I started slow, reestablishing a health routine that focused on regular training and dance classes. It wasn't easy, especially with the demands of working in the hospitality industry. I had to fake it till I made it, letting go of my younger, more talented self, and starting again from ground zero.
Performance anxiety was an old friend who decided to come back around. The bright lights of the stage, which once filled me with exhilaration, were suddenly too glaring. My heart would race, panic creeping up on me moments before I was due to perform. But I found a way to channel that fear, to flip a switch in my mind from panic to total focus, just in time to step on stage.
Navigating these challenges was not a solitary journey. Along the way, I met people who inspired me, supported me, and pushed me to break out of my comfort zone. One of these people was Eljai Morais, the founder of Bawdsville Cabaret. Eljai was more than just a mentor to me. She was my 'Cabaret Mama,' my guiding light in the dark tunnel of self-doubt and insecurity.
I remember the countless hours we spent together, working on my character, refining my burlesque voice, and challenging my creative boundaries. We had our disagreements, but looking back, I realize she saw potential in me that I was too blinded by self-doubt to see. The lessons she taught me resonate with me to this day, helping me create and innovate in my acts.
Still, I won't deny that there were moments when I doubted myself. I remember one particular audition where I was completely out of my league. It felt like a nightmare unfolding in real-time. As I stepped on stage, I saw the casting directors walking out, their departing figures a stinging reminder of my insecurities. But I didn't let it break me. I performed till the end, for an empty room, yes, but also for myself. Each rejection, each setback was a stepping stone, a lesson learned.
The greatest transformation in my comeback journey came when I qualified as a fitness professional and coach. The shift in my perspective was profound. As I taught others, I challenged myself too. My progress as an aerialist began to soar, and it felt as if the pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place. The lessons I learned as a fitness coach echoed in my performances, adding a new dimension to my act.
Balancing my desire to regain my previous level of skill with the reality of my progress was a struggle. But with time, I learned to celebrate my journey, to value the small wins and embrace the artist I was becoming. My performances began to change. I was no longer performing for the sake of performing, but for the sheer joy of creation. I began focusing less on the quantity of my performances and more on the quality, investing my time in creating acts that resonated with my own purpose.
Today, I stand in a place where I am free to express my creativity without the pressure of adhering to conventional standards. I've learned to value my unique body type and have made peace with the fact that I won't fit into every role, and that's okay. I don't need to. I create my own roles, my own acts, and perform them with a confidence that comes from embracing my individuality. I still have big stage concepts and ideas that I want to achieve, and I continue to work on them while also making peace with the uncertainty of what the future holds.
Looking back, the journey to where I stand today has been arduous and challenging. I have faced rejection, battled performance anxiety, and grappled with my insecurities. But through it all, I have grown not just as a performer, but as an individual. To anyone embarking on a similar journey, I want to say this: embrace the process. Embrace the artist you are becoming, instead of mourning the artist you once were. Believe in yourself, trust the journey, and remember, the spotlight is not going anywhere. It's waiting for you to step back into it, stronger, braver, and ready to conquer.
