{"id":5085,"date":"2022-05-11T09:43:13","date_gmt":"2022-05-11T09:43:13","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/jugular.org.au\/?p=5085"},"modified":"2022-05-11T09:43:57","modified_gmt":"2022-05-11T09:43:57","slug":"dancer-therapy","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/jugular.org.au\/index.php\/2022\/05\/11\/dancer-therapy\/","title":{"rendered":"Dance Therapy"},"content":{"rendered":"
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\n \t<\/i> Read Time:<\/span>5 Minute, 16 Second <\/div>\n\n <\/div>\n

Written by Allyson Tai, edited by Grace Smith<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

It was summertime. The new year had just rolled over, leaving everyone high and dry with a sudden nothing to celebrate. People paced restlessly on the streets, still looking for the renewal that the new year had promised but never quite delivered – a collective that Elliot believed himself exempt.  It must be stated that such a belief did not come from a place of arrogance but rather a place of painful loneliness. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

As if in a dream, he forever streamed into keyholes, through windows, past thresholds, tiptoeing through spaces he did not and could not occupy. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It had been an especially bad week. The new pills did nothing for the nightmares and made him retch till his throat stung. Sometimes in the early hours of the morning, when the city was asleep, he\u2019d find himself slumped over by the kitchen table with the entire studio tilting forwards as if someone was forever pushing his head downwards. Usually, he\u2019d close his eyes and fixate on each motion as if to will them away, and when he next opened them again, day would have broken. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

That night, however, he couldn\u2019t remember either of those things happening. Instead, Alex had found him half-asleep outside his office door when he arrived at the clinic at 8:38. Alex doesn\u2019t say anything as he helps him up, pushes open the glass door, and directs him past reception, into his consulting room. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alex gives the door a slight kick. Clack. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018What\u2019s been happening, Elliot?\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018The pills. They don\u2019t work.\u2019 he says. He feels like a plaintive child. He avoids Alex\u2019s gaze and stares blankly at the pot plant in the corner. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alex waits. Tell me more. <\/em> <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I can\u2019t think when I\u2019m on them. The room never stops spinning.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018That must be terrible. How long has it been since you  started taking them?\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Two weeks.\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Okay. Have you been back to see Dr. Greene about this?\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It goes on like this for sometime. Until, at some point, the next question doesn\u2019t come. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He looks up and sees Alex thinking. He knows what he is going to say next. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I know we talked about this in the past, but what are your thoughts on alternative therapy as of this moment? We don\u2019t need to look into it – it\u2019s just an option that is available should you want it.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Dancing – I thought it\u2019d be something you could try\u2019 Alex had said, in November. <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \u2018Alex, that\u2019s ridiculous.\u2019 he said, calmly.  <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018<\/em>You enjoyed yourself , didn\u2019t you, that time you went to watch Lee perform?\u2019 <\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Appreciating from afar is very different from doing.\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

 \u2018For sure. But you\u2019ve also always wished that you could.\u2019<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

He closes his eyes and is then reminded of how they flared open in the early hours of that day, with a sea in his stomach. How he\u2019d closed them again against the migraines, against the embarrassment of being \u2018not that hungry\u2019 at a company dinner when in fact he hadn\u2019t eaten all day, against the fears that never stopped running in his mind  \u2014 against the world. In vain. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He surrenders. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

A printer whirrs and clicks and comes alive in response. He blinks his eyes back into reality. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Here you go.\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alex stands above him holding out a piece of paper which he accepts with resignation. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alex looks at him carefully. \u2018If it gets worse, call me straight away. And I want to see you in a week\u2019s time. Okay?.. Okay.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He finds himself in front of the change room mirrors of the dance studio, in all black attire, feeling ridiculous. And ashamed really. The man in the mirror who stares blankly back is a far cry from the seventeen year old that he had once been. Although still similar in physique, something fundamental was missing. Perhaps, it was the wildness in his eyes, or the sun on his lips, or his laugh that rang clear at dusk during summer break \u2014 all of which had since been beaten up and buried. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

 A couple of ballerinas eyes him curiously from the corner. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He snaps out of it and realises class has already started (\u2018Haha. F***.\u2019 he thinks). <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The instructor, Ken, is smiley and quietly chaotic. He leads them through the most peculiar warm-up, with exercises that he\u2019s dredged up from his days as an archetypal theatre kid. He compels them to fall into poses and motions that their bodies are most naturally inclined to, to then shout out their names into the void of the room, as if to vocalise that the state of merely existing was significant enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018…draw your arm up along your midline, as if you were pulling a piece of string, over your head, and then let your arm fall, to the side\u2026shoulders back. Don\u2019t over think it, ladies and gentlemen\u2026Now your feet\u2026first position\u2026like so – don\u2019t push it. Go where your feet naturally want to go\u2026.second position\u2026tendu<\/em>\u2026let\u2019s go back to the beginning\u2026one\u2026two\u2026three – and on three, let your left leg sweep to the side, \u2026 right arm\u2026unfurl your fingers , sweep your arm outwards\u2026feel each joint and sinew unlock\u2026create space that wasn\u2019t there before\u2026\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Gone are the migraines, the embarrassments, the fears \u2014 they lie forgotten at Elliot\u2019s feet. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

It is beautiful – the room around him. He hadn\u2019t realised when he first walked in. The cool walls waver in early morning light, as it filters in through the windows (which stretched from the floor to ceiling) and falls in soft rectangles on the walls and floors. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

He thinks of nothing now, except of how to hold his torso (as though the top of his head was \u201csuspended by string\u201d), how not to step back but to sweep the ground, how to not simply move across the room but to dare to fly. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

And the world around him \u2014 it bursts \u2014  into full colour, from the inside out. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Free. <\/p>\n

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Written by Allyson Tai, edited by Grace Smith It was summertime. The new year had just rolled over, leaving everyone high and dry with a sudden nothing to celebrate. People paced restlessly on the streets, still looking for the renewal that the new year had promised but never quite delivered<\/p>\n

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