letting yourself sit one (or several) out

Warning: This post became a lot more stream-of-consciousness rambling than carefully planned article. Sorry.

So, I've been missing a lot of class, recently. Annoying, but what can you do when you repeatedly injure yourself and then somehow manage to have two cats come down with emergency medical problems within days of each other? There is simply nothing for it, I'm afraid.
I always feel bad about missing class.
In a lot of cases I enjoy taking class on an otherwise stressful day because it's therapeutic. I simply can NOT think about anything but class while I'm there. There is too much to focus on and too much to remember. On days like today, though, when I am full-out emotionally exhausted (emergency cat surgery yesterday that ended up being so complicated and so expensive that my vet actually took us aside to apologize to us in person. No, really.) and the classes on my schedule are the ones that are HARD CORE ass-kicking classes that carry a certain amount of emotional baggage of their own... yeah. Not happening. All I really want to do is sleep, eat too much, and snuggle on the couch with my husband and kitties. Possibly drink cocoa and read Scarlet Pimpernel novels, because that is the most intellectually stimulating thing I am currently capable of.
Sometimes I feel a bit cheated when I can't go to class. In a way I feel like I am dancing in defiance of and in anticipation of the day that I can no longer dance. I know it's a day that will eventually come. And when it does I will be devastated. So I feel a bit annoyed with circumstances (an with myself) when things don't work out the way they are supposed to.
Sometimes I just feel guilty. There is this person that sits in the back of your head and grumbles to you "maybe you just don't WANT IT enough" as if it was your inner personal trainer. And then you have to cock a figurative (or literal, I make a lot of faces when I talk to myself) eyebrow and ask that little bastard what s/he thinks "it" is and why it is so damned important to want it in the first place. Because no one can piss you off or make you feel worse than you can, right? Screw that little dude.
Sigh...

The Apathy Patrol

So I was dreading going away for a long time because I knew that when I came back home and once again faced going to class twice a week I would have to deal with my old enemy: complete apathy. It's just that... when I am dancing a lot then I want to dance a lot. But if I'm not? Then... I would just rather sit at home and eat smarties and watch Mythbusters. When I get back in to it it will be fine, but until then I know that it's going to be hard, and hurt, and make me all sweaty, and I will probably get a migraine afterward. And I'll  have to sit around with ice packs all over my body when I get home. And I have to drive ten miles to the studio through rush hour/Christmas shopping traffic and/or take the train through the ghetto in the dark. And. And. And. The point is that my brain is telling me it would rather just stay home if it's going to be so much trouble to go to class.
But. Tonight I am back home (may be gone again next week, but only time will tell) and, like a good girl, I went to class. That would be my level 3 class, by the way. In case you were wondering how badass I am. I answer is: totally. I am totally badass.
Class... kicked my butt. Pretty much. I can definitely feel the fact that I didn't do anything for three weeks. Well, that's not true. I shoveled snow. Was it hard work? Yes. Did it help me remain in ballet-condition? Not even a little bit.
I had to learn how to stand again, and where my feet are supposed to go. And then I flailed around badly for a while while we attempted combinations that I had never seen before. Also, apparently, while I was away they started some new stuff. So I just had to fake it through those parts. HA. Did I mention how badass I am? Because it's a lot. It did put me in mind, though, of that time in elementary school when I was out sick while they taught the whole class the multiplication table and then when I got back no one noticed and so I spent the next two years trying to learn how to multiply and divide ALL BY MY SELF. Ahem. But, you know, with enveloppe* at the barre instead of actually important stuff.
Not that I am bitter or anything.

*I'm sure enveloppe should have an accent mark in there somewhere. But I'll be darned if I can actually find it online.

MEH

Much less shaky this week. Also a touch less sweaty, though still *too* sweaty, IMHO. But how much of that is that I didn't take the zoloft this morning, and how much of it is that we had a substitute teacher who made us do different stuff?
Meh.
I am feeling very neutral about tonight. I felt weirdly awkward and annoyed at some of my fellow students. Maybe the zoloft makes me a better and more tolerant person. Or maybe that woman really *was* being deeply obnoxious?
The world may never know.
I dunno. Tonight I felt like... like there was some competition going for who was the most fabulous. Or something. Like I said, I don't know. I was feeling extra spazzy and like I was miles behind everyone else. I mean, it doesn't matter, right? No one cares how good or bad you are at what you are doing. No one is going to look down on you because you keep screwing up the combinations. Or will they? This is the first time I have asked myself that.
MEH.