Outgrowing the Old Me

At twelve-years-old, while other kids balanced their time between school, friends, and hobbies, I poured my entire being into one thing – dance. It became all of me from the ages of five to eighteen. For thirteen years, dance wasn’t just something I did, it was inseparable from me, like lungs to breath or a heartbeat to life. Dance and I were always in the same sentence. So when I got to college and dance started feeling like something I was struggling to hold onto, it felt almost impossible to accept.

As humans, we shed our skin many times throughout life, leaving behind countless versions of ourselves that make up who we are. It’s natural and inevitable, but it’s tough when what you’re shedding was once all of you.

I felt a sense of belonging I couldn’t feel anywhere else every time I stepped on stage and the lights blinded my vision. Cuts and bruises throbbing on my toes from my pointe shoes and the sharp air filling my lungs didn’t matter to me – moving my body in ways others couldn’t was my favorite thing in the world.

Not everyone can understand the impact of true creative freedom that dance can bring, but many can relate to the bittersweet feeling of leaving behind a passion to make room for who you’re becoming. Whether it’s losing your love for art to focus on a medical career or letting go of a baseball passion to start a new path, we all face these transformative moments. But I wasn’t forced to give up dancing. No injury set me back, no financial issues– it was simply the burden of time and change. How do you navigate that? Do you even want to grasp onto something slipping from your fingers?

College was a turning point for me. I tried to hold onto dance, taking a dance class here and there. At first, I clung to it, determined to leave claw marks deep enough to keep the passion alive. But as time wore on, the classes grew further apart, the desire faded, and dancing started to feel like a distant memory. School classes, outings with friends, and work commitments replaced it. There was a point where I couldn’t imagine my identity without dance. It feels like pieces of a past life I chipped away to shape who I am now.

Lost and confused without the title of “dancer,” what saved me was finding a new creative outlet that fit my life as it is now. When I could no longer twist and contort my body for an audience, I chose to pour myself into words on a page. The creative energy trapped within me, once batting at its cage, found its escape through writing.

Nothing is promised, but the one thing I trust is that I will continue to change and transform. I found a passion that didn’t replace my old one but instead helped me rediscover that sense of belonging within myself. I now spend my time losing myself in creating stories, the glow of my computer mirroring the stage lights that once shone on me.

Strike Out,

Writer: Isabella Santiago

Editor: Grace Groover

Graphic Designer: Carly Collins

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