teaching is healing
my students are perfect, fight me
I had my first therapy appointment when I was 14 which had a direct relationship with entering a professional dance program. The appointment felt stilted and awkward as therapy sometimes still does. I sat in a leather chair in front of Rebecca who had big blonde curly hair and who seemed 40 years older than me, but she was probably only thirty five. She asked me if I was being bullied, how my relationship was with my parents, and what I liked about dance. I lied to her with every breath.
I am blessed to have parents who believe in therapy and have assisted me both energetically and financially in my access to care for my mental health. You too should have had this level of support if you did not receive it. I am acutely aware that one of the largest factors in my success and resilience is in fact financial. My parents were able to put me through dance school, and then into therapy to deal with the dance school shit, and then through university so that I could continue to expand and grow into different practices. I say this with transparency so that you can know that I am not standing here living a few steps above the poverty line as an artist (a huge win) because of my innate and raw talents, but because of the freedom and security money has brought me throughout my upbringing.
Regardless, I am mentally ill. I have been in a consistent amount of therapy since I was 14, and weekly therapy since I was 21. I have experimented with group therapy, meditation courses, breathwork courses, microdosing, journaling, and just plain old ignoring my problems (underrated imo). But nothing has helped me feel quite as regulated and in connection with joy than teaching dance.
When I teach I get to see people showing up for themselves. I witness their fear, which is something that we name and invite into class, and I experience people moving with and through their fear. People ask questions, something I wasn’t allowed to do at ballet school, which honestly is healing in and of itself. I see the excitement that people feel when a principle we have been working on suddenly integrates into their body. I believe that the joy of integration only occurs when people have been allowed to try and fail and try again, rather than expect themselves to get it the first time.
But how did it get so twisted? How did we arrive into adult bodies with so much shame around how we move through the world?
I have a few core memories of adults letting me know that I was “not a good dancer,” that I did not belong there, or that I was to stand in the back of their class so as to not be seen or dealt with. I know that my dance teachers were made to feel the same way, or that something about my personality poked their soft spots. But these are intense messages to receive as a child. And though I have, as you have heard already, done years and years of therapy, I guess these memories will always sit in my body with a bit of a sting.
I was speaking with a friend recently on why, after so many hours of dance training, do I feel invaded with anxiety the hours before I take a dance class? Would not all my training make me feel more comfortable in the class? But my friend wisely said that if I have experienced hours and hours of trauma and belittling in a space, then it makes sense that my nervous system would feel like a dance class is not safe, even if the class is being facilitated by a teacher I trust.
This past teaching session has been one of the most joyful and healing sessions to date. My level one group proposed that we have a recital for their friends and family. I was floored when they suggested it. It is my goal to keep the vibe of the class exploratory and safe and an audience often ruins this intention. But the dancers were so excited to push themselves and rise to the occasion of showing some of our material to their friends and family.
We had a warm and beautiful audience populated by friends, family, and partners who were all there to celebrate their loved one for committing to a radically scary practice of memorizing a series of moves and then showing them! I learned that showing what you learned doesn’t have to just be terrifying, it can also be open hearted and playful! This class and its students give me a small glimmer of hope for our innate potential to radically expand and connect with one another. I wanted to write this newsletter to remember, because this lesson is so easily forgotten.
If you are interested in taking a beginner dance class with me, or if you have a bit of dance experience and would like to try level one, you can get in touch at kaitlyn.ramsden@gmail.com to get on the email list and be notified about our next session!
If you are intrigued to hear more about my therapeutic journey I recently put out this oversharing youtube video that details my relationship with embodiment and my recovery from my eating disorder.
I tried so desperately to experiment with the algorithm by putting Oprah and Micheal Polan in this thumbnail lol. Here’s to constant humiliating experimentation!!
Until next time!
xx