Still so far

I'm still so far from recovery. My mind and soul are still held extremley captive to this hideous disorder. I wish that I had the freedom to do as I please. In reality, I do posess this privilage, but I allow my doubts to rob me of my own rights. I seriously want to die at times, and that's far from an exaggeration. I'll stare at the ceiling and invision ways in which I could suspend a rope. But then I stop this sick fantasy as the real world breaks in. A bottle of Aspririn did me no good, why would a rope. It wouldn't. But last night was rough. This week has been rough. I've been constantly falling from the highest of adrenaline rushes that I've ever expirienced.

This past weekend was the Celtic Fling Feis. My family and I along with my brother's friend traveled four hours so I could compete in an Irish Dance competition. I love competiting. Sure, the days leading to competition are a load of stress and anxiety, but once I hit the stage, I feel such assuring presence. I get a surge of confidence and peace while performing infront of subjective spectators. This is my absolute love.

I trained intently the week leading up to the feis. My usual hour-a-day dance practices, untop of my usual 45 minuts jumprope sessions. Cross Country was slowly starting, so I added twice a week pilates to my physical regimine. My addiciton was fed even further. And my weight continued to drop. I love the feeling of shedding, it really does provide me with a false sense of control. The same goes for training. I'm allowed to be insane- I'm an athlete.

But enough of my sick perspective and onto the good stuff. I got all of my food packed, and chopped off a cardio and dance session before 10 am on Friday morning. We left around noon, luggage and all, to arrive in Lancaster, Pennsylvania around 5 pm. Naturally, my first destination was the gym in order to log another cardio workout on the ellipticall. After that, I just felt so free with another workout conquered and complete. I returned to our lovely hotel room in order to clean up for dinner.

My family and I headed out in search of an Applebee's, because what can I say, I love the fact that they have a Weight Watcher's menue. Unfortunaly, the dusch bag of a conceirge gave us the shittiest of directions, which lead us to dine at a Chili's instead. Thankfully, Chili's still had a "Guitless Grill" menue which, too, specialized in low-cal (or their definition of low-cal) fare. I ordered the Salmon with black beans and parmesean topped veggies for a mere total of 480 calories- which was perfect.

Ofcourse, my brother and his friend ordered entree's which weighed in at over 1500 calories! But they're 13 year old boys with twice the metabolism of mine, so what did it matter?! My meal was delicous. My mom got some pasta crap (I never order pasta at a resturaunt, that's an over-abundant nightmare of simple carbs!), and my dad leaned toward the saturated fat realm with the baby back ribs. But, it's what they wanted, so who cares. Dinner was delicous, and we all got along surprisingly.

When we got back to the hotel, I bought an ice cold Diet Coke from the vending machine, to be followed up by a ragining caffiene high. What a night! To my surprise again, me, my brother, and his best frined John had a blast. And for once, I managed to get a DECEANT NIGHT'S SLEEP IN A HOTEL! I feel asleep at 11:00 pm, and woke up refreshed and ready to dance around 6:00 am. I wanted to arrive at the feis before 8 am, so I could warm up and get all of my steps in.

Aside from the hotel coffee resembling cow piss, the morning went fairly smooth, until we got to the feis. The first person that I managed to spot was Jen, who I love to death, granted. However, I HATE talking about dance with Jen, because she tends to become very opinionated with anything in the dance world, and I just can't stand it. Her dancing style is also very different from mine, so I really don't enjoy practicing with her, since the pointers she'll give me are to no benifit for my dancing. The same goes with the pointers I'll give her, they just don't mix with her style. But nontheless, I held my breath and smiled. Then, I sprinted toward my stage to begin warming up.

Fuck. The stage whas literally a piece of plywood shit. Spots of it were soaked wet with rain (the competition was outdoors), and ofcourse I managed to dance right toward these areas, landing me flat on my ass during the second step of my hornpipe. My fall just set the tone for the next half hour or so. Once I recovered and carried back on with my practice, I was only interrupted again by my falling wig. The damned thing wouldn't stay on my head! So I had to stop dancing, yet again, so my mom could practically nail the thing to my head. After several attempts to secure the stupid wig, it held, and I ran through my Reel a few times. Then my mom came over and yelled at me for practicing so much, irregardless of the fact I couldn't control my impulse. But, I was scolded to come and sit down. I really didn't want to waste all my energy on a compulsion, so went and stretched. I watched Jen dance while doing so. She looked decent, but I envied her in some ways. Jen's someone who NEVER and I mean NEVER practices. Yet, she can go up on stage and parade around like a fairy. It really is my jelously, because I wish that I could manage the same stellar performance on such little effort. Oh well, that's just not the way it works.

So, Jen's group finished up, only for my group of dancers to follow. The usual people were there, and I was just trying to shoe off any last minute nerves by laughing it up with my fellow competitiors. While it feels SO GREAT to be complete with my competition rounds, I really do value the time before I dance, too, for during the month I've been dancing in Prelims, I've met some fabulous dancers while waiting to perform.

But the conversation had to come to an end, for lucky me, I was the first group to go. I was paired with some other dancer wearing a teal solo dress and matching eyeshadow. She was a blonde and very quiet which gave off a vibe of intimidation. But it wasn't time to anylize, it was time to dance. I strutted up to the stage and looked the three judges in the eye. This was my time. I worked my ass off to make it here, and they'd better atleast watch the wonders that I can do with my strength. The music began, I pointed. The last bar approached, and I took off.

I can think back to my first time competing at a Championship level, which was only a month ago. I was so scared and felt like the weakling of the group instinaniously, simply because I was the newcomer. I allowed my dancing partner to overtake me and rush ahead, while I remained in the back, simply dancing in hopes of completion.

This time though, I forgot the other girl. It was my show, my time. I had now or never to display my ability and to take on the peace that awaited. My feet and legs floated across that once-shitty plywood, which now felt like heaven beneath my body. The front of the stage- directly infront of the judges- had become my territory. I wasn't going to let my fellow competitor come ahead and steal the spotlight. The fatigue began to creep up around my left foot second step. But I fought it off, completing my third step with a very high click in the perfect position for the judges to see. My heavy round was complete. I took my bow, and exited the stage to prepare for my Reel.

The girl that I danced with fell into a state of tears shortly after we had finished the Hornpipe. I went over on common courtisey to see what the matter was, and apparently, she was coming off an injury which provoked frustration. I tried my best to condol her, and went about to spectate my fellow competitors during their heavy rounds. I saw some really fast and fancy footwork, which gave me a forboding fear. But, once again, my time to dance approached in conjunction with the bad weather.

I took the stage during the time of a terrential downpour. But the world outside had very little importance, for I was within my own world at the moment. The stage was all that mattered. My energy was all that mattered. My passion overuled any existing fear. That lovely music started up once again, taking away my soul as my feet brushed the stage. I rushed toward the front again, having the time of my life, as I always do while dancing! My Reel slipped my mind as I seemed to float through the round. The music ceased, and I came back down. My bow was taken, and my dancing was complete.

I couldn't remember a thing from either round! My parents said the routine "you look good", but nothing that gave off a vibe of reinsurrance. Jen did the same, but your friends and family are pretty much required to compliment your performance. I didn't care though, my dance was over. I wished the rest of my competitors good luck as I headed off to complete my ritual dance compulsions. My mom questioned where I was headed, and I replied back to "cool down". As I dreaded, she followed me, frequently sighing at the length of my "cool down". I told her I was almost done, and that I'd soon be back.

I was a few more steps away from completing my sweat session when I hear the 16&over (Jen's group) being announced via the loudspeaker. I continued dancing until I heard Jen's number being called. I had some pretty mixed emotions. While I was happy for my friend in having finished in the top half (that's what happens when you place, you have to be in the top 50% of dancers to recieve an award and qualify for Mid-American Championships), I was nervous that I wouldn't place, and still envious that she did so well without the shit that I went through. But, they always do say to never judge a book by its cover... and oh boy, was this saying true.

I am so selfish. I ignore the past and focus to much on the present emotions that I am feeling. Jen has had one hell of a year. She was hosptialized in February with a high fever and low white blood count. She missed alot of school and the entire show dancing season. Her stamina was shattered, and she looked so fragile, like I porcelain ghost. Ofcourse, I've had my shit come about this past year too, but I'm used to it. Hospital stays have become an accetped reality, and setbacks, I'm learning, are routine to my life. But this was a startle for Jen and her family both. And her mother also encountered smoe health problems after taking a nasty fall one day.

But aside from the past circumstances that Jen and her family were faced with, there was a more present and dangerous issue on hand. After Jen's awards were complete, her mother was talking with my mom. I overheard there conversation, to learn that Jen was losing her hair. Those words, that thought, it sank into my heart. It brought back pain that I hadn't felt in a long time, and worry that I had never had for my friend before. I looked over to see Jen, happy with her accomplishment, but bearinng a burden. In the ninety degree heat, she was dressed in a sweat suit, and her once naturally fair skin appeared to be translucent. I was worried, and still am. She is in my prayers, as well as her family. That thought, that image, of her beautiful hair and her precious health in danger, it really hit home. However, my results were about to be announced.

So the big deal of this competition was the main act of qualifying me to compete in the Mid-American Irish Dance Championships (Oireachtas), an event which I had never before made it to. In years past, I had came extremly close, but always lost my chances to the Anorexia. Whether or not it was a broken bone or a weak heart, I constantly fell short of qualifying. The process to make it this far is extremely involved, one which I will try my best to explain.

In Irish Dance, there are various levels in which dancers compete. Logically, the first level is Beginner. Each dancer remains in Beginner for one year, to automatically advance to Advanced Beginner. In order to move out of Advanced Beginner, a dancer must win a 1st, 2nd, or 3rd in the particular dance. Typically in competitions, dancers will compete against 10-30 other competitors, in hopes of achieving a medal for 1st, 2nd, or 3rd. Once this is achieved, a dancers moves onto Novice.

This level is what I like to call the "bottleneck of Irish Dance". Novice weeds SO many hopeful champions out of this sport, yet drives so many toward success. The level following Novice is Open/Prizewinner. To go onto that level, a dancer must win 1st place in that dance, no exceptions. Once a dancer is into Open/Prizewinner, they must win TWO 1st place awards in EACH OF THE FOUR DANCES, within a TWO YEAR COMPETITION PERIOD. In lamens terms, the dancer must do something nearly impossible, and slave over intricate steps while dodging the frustrations of 2nd place. But, some make it out of Open/Prizewinner, onto the Championship level.

There are two levels of Championship competition, Preliminary Championship, and Open Championship. A dancer in Prelims has made it out of Open/Prizewinner. In order to get out of Prelims, however, one must again win two first places in Prelim, while competiting against the best of the best. Then, once the two firsts are achieved, a dancer has hit the highest level, Open Championship.

And to qualify for the Oireachtas, a dancer needs to first off, be in Prelim, and secondly, place in the top 50% at a competition. It doesn't sound that bad, but trust me, it' not easy! The competition has to be withing the states of Ohio, Pennsylvania, Indiana, Michigan, or Illinois, and there's only so many feises in those states. I have placed before in Virginia (7th/24), but that placing couldn't count toward a qualification, since it was out of region.

But today was the day. My last chance to qualify until August. They began announcing the results, as the 8th place finisher was called up, followed by 7th, 6th, and then 5th. Once these competitors were announced, I doubted that I had placed today, since anything ABOVE 5th would a bit too good for someone new to Prelim. And it seemed that I was right with this doubt, as the 4th place winner was called up, someone who evidently wasn't me. I could feel the heartbrake coming on, something I had grown quite accustomed to. My hopes faded out as a lovely sound came over the microphone.

"And in third place, competitor number 142, from the Burke school of Irish Dance, Julia Beck." 142. That was me. I looked down at my number. That was my number. I screamed. That was me! I could touch it, I could feel it, I had victory! It was here, no one could take it away. I was ontop of the world, let alone, standing on a PODIUM! My trembling hands grasped a crystal trophy. I had placed, I had done better than placed, I had come in the top three! I was going to Oireachtas, I had broken the barrier! I was at peace, although only for a few seconds, with the world and its surroundings. God was making sense and the atmosphere seemed lighter. My lips were trapped in a smile. This was what it felt like to have prayers answered, this is what it felt like to be happy. This was the life that I had wanted to live for so long. Though only for a split second I held onto that fait, I must learn to never let go of that feeling.

Even when my world grows dark, I can't let go. Even when my fingers are slipping, I cannot let go. For I've gotten a taste, I've had a glimpse into the new world ahead. It can become a life, I just know it. With incredible moments like that, I just know that I can surcome this. I am still very ill and living inside the horrors of my Eating Disorder. But that's not the life I want. I want the life of a dancer, and I will strive to live the life of a dancer, one who is successful and at ease. This day, while just a day, served as so much more than a glimmer of hope, but a preview of what wonders lie ahead in this ever changing world.