Monday night our daughter had a panic attack at dance. We anticipated last week would be hard. The first week of “the reality of the year”. School is now in full swing, the new dance seasons started and generally the whole family is busier and schedules fuller. There is not as much time to find peace, quiet…and opportunity to regroup self and emotions. Something necessary for our daughter’s mental/emotional health…I think many of us would say the same.

Monday night (or dance) started with tears and frustration. I am sure our daughter felt overwhelmed. Dance is a lot for young girls. Practice is typically 3-4 nights a week and often 4-5 hours long. Seems like a lot for a child? Yes, many of us would agree. But, balance that with less time for social media, positive healthy friendships and an opportunity to be a part of a team, the alternative (not being involved) is less desirable and frankly scary.

Our daughter’s initial reaction Monday night was to quit dance. She is battling a lot of demons from last year…a great deal of loss. In regards to dance, she lost a year of practice. She is currently in the process of regaining strength, flexibility and technique. She is more than grateful for making the team and understands the gift she was given, but also difficult for her to watch her former teammates progress forward while she repeats. We have all been there and can empathize. The feelings and frustration are real and despite we know being angry at “unfair circumstances outside our control” is not productive, they still show-up. For our daughter when they show up….they show up BIG. The physical symptoms associated with feelings of frustration, sadness or anger can trip her panic. Sadly a normal reaction transitions into what feels abnormal or irrational. Add in hormones and simply the awkward stage of being a 7th grade girl…heck, she is handling it with more grace than I probably could/would in my forties…and certainly better than I could at her age. But, sadly, it does not always present that way.

We continue to tell our daughter the only way is through. She will have to work twice as hard as anyone else in many aspects of her life…not just dance. Yes, last year was unfair and we are not sure “why her”. But, we tell her she cannot go back, dwell on the past or even hope to be the girl she once was…she can only go forward. She has a choice everyday and is responsible for how she shows up. Being upset and frustrated is simply not productive, but channeling that energy into fighting to regain what you love…without a doubt…someday she will win…she is already winning. And the funny thing…winning might not be dance (in this case) it might be something totally different she has yet to discover or notice.

Just the other week our daughter helped a man in a wheelchair at the MN State Fair. He was positioned in a crowded doorway…everyone pushed around him and pretty sure most (if not all) did not even see him. Many probably frustrated he was “in the way”. Our oldest saw him, approached him and helped him reach something he was unable to get on his own. Sadly and honestly…like so many others…I did not see him. I learned a powerful lesson from our daughter in that moment. Many of us in that doorway did.

The following day or Tuesday, our daughter had her first pointe class. A huge milestone for our daughter who has been wearing ballet slippers since she was three. But, unlike her friends, she was pre-pointe…they had new pointe shoes and she was still in her ballet shoes. Darn the obvious visual reminder or difference. But, she showed up and pushed through.

What proceeded…I could not have planted the learning/outcome any better if I tried. Always grateful to her dance studio for teaching our daughter more than the obvious dance instruction. Our daughter made pointe. And, in that moment following her pointe class, we saw a glimpse of the girl we knew. Excited…happy…hopeful…not hindered by a disease. We asked her, “What did you learn tonight?” She answered, “I showed up and worked hard. Giving up is not an option.” I might miss the girl I knew at times, but I could not be more proud of the girl she is.