A Reunion

It's been quite a long time, hasn't it? I've missed you. 

I realize that I've been completely silent for the past year and a half, but my life was changing much faster than I could process. 

After graduating college, I started to follow an invisible checklist of items that I thought made me a "successful adult." I got an apartment and started to live by myself. I started a big girl job almost immediately after graduation. I reduced the number of times I went to therapy. I was navigating a dating relationship with my best friend. Basically, I strived to be a professional 21-year-old who had it all figured out. I thought this version of success would bring me joy because logically, these were all great things that were happening in my life. But in the midst of my job where I was constantly proving my capability, bringing new ideas to the table, and finding ways to overachieve, I lost sight of two things that were once really important to me: my love for dance/art and my need for deep relationships.

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For as long as I can remember, I dreamt of being a dancer. Little Rachel had to practically announce that she was a dancer and often put on shows wherever she went. She wanted to be a dancer on a large stage with bright lights that made an entire audience disappear, so that she could disappear into the world where she felt the most like herself. Dance was my number one personality trait. 

As I continued to grow, that dream evolved into wanting to be an artist who mainly focused on dance, but was passionate about using multiple art forms to share different stories of people I was interested in. In my last year of college, I was so excited to embark on my next journey, hoping to create with no bounds and develop the artistic voice that I finally found that year. College Rachel found confidence and most importantly, herself. 

However, the instant I finally walked under the Washington Square Park arch to commemorate my graduation, I lost sight of my goals pretty quickly. My goals felt hard. They felt scary. They felt unrealistic. What felt realistic was pausing the dance thing, and going for a job that gave me stabilization, which was related to my field of interest, and I figured I would be doing art in my spare time. 

But I had no spare time. Therefore, art was an untouched muscle that continued to harden and get weaker each day. I used to introduce myself as "Hey, I'm Rachel, and I'm a dancer/artist," but it didn't feel true anymore so I stopped sharing that I was a dancer or artist entirely. By not saying it out loud, I started to forget. I also felt like I wasn't investing enough time into the people I loved and being as supportive as I could. I took up a lot of space and was seeking their support most of the time.

At the beginning of this year, I reflected back on some of my journal entries post-grad and was heartbroken with how much sadness, anxiety, and hopelessness poured out of the pages. I felt stuck. I felt like my decision of working my job and not pursuing art was going to last forever and that I would have to live with that decision. 

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I have trouble letting go of people and accepting change. I tend to live in nostalgia and hoard time by mourning the past. Because of that, post-grad depression lasted way longer than I expected, and I craved an escape from the city, from my job, and this version of myself. 

A couple of months ago, I went to Tennessee for a dance workshop and experienced a couple of beautiful reunions. My first reunion was with Jane (not her real name) who I had met the summer before in New Mexico. After barely getting to know each other, I somehow convinced her to attend this workshop in Nashville almost a year later. She came to the New York and stayed with me for a couple of days and then we spent two weeks in Nashville where I felt like I was getting to know her better but I was surprised that my friendship with Jane felt as if we grew up alongside each other for years. 

I walked into the workshop with Jane on the first day, and we scanned the room to feel what the vibes of the workshop might be. I stupidly didn't wear my contacts, but I noticed this girl who seemed vaguely familiar. I whispered to Jane, "I think that's someone from my high school, but I'm not sure because I can't really see if it's her and I don't want to like awkwardly go up to her." It was indeed Carolyn (also not her real name) who was my high school classmate.  I wasn't necessarily close to Carolyn in high school but when catching up with her after not seeing her for 4 years, I was in awe of how she was so different yet so similar to how I remembered her in high school. I wondered, did she think the same of me? Is 22-year-old me drastically different from high school me?

Carolyn, Jane, and I spent the next two weeks dancing and hanging out together, and a lot of the time, I forgot that I had another life in the city that was completely separate from the two of them. Their company felt safe, and I loved that it felt like we didn't run out of things to talk about because there was SO much to catch up on. I also got the opportunity to reunite with some other people at the workshop and spend some time learning from them. But it was especially with Carolyn and Jane, I noticed that I was reverting back to who I was when I knew them previously. Those versions of me were much more consumed by dance and craved creating. And by spending time with them, I was suddenly reminded of who I was when I graduated and how much I lost sight of that. 

And this my friends, is the beauty of reunions. Not only do you get to see people you miss and get to love them all over again, but you also reunite with little parts of yourself you may have forgotten and get to love on those parts all over again. 

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So I've decided to take a risk, leave the logical checklist behind, and use my time to prioritize who freshly graduated Rachel wanted to be: an artist and a good friend to other people. I'm happy that I get to reunite with her. And reuniting with her has led me to YOU. Writing again and sharing parts of my life that you didn't ask for. 

My boyfriend recently told me that he felt that he was able to expect some of the emotional transitions he had to make because he had people who were older that were able to honestly share their life experiences. So, though you and I may be living different lives, I hope that by continuing this blog post-college, you can come with the expectation that though life can be chaotic, the hopes, dreams, and goals that you imagine for yourself can become a reality. 

"Imagination is real" - Jay Carlon aka also my new mantra. 

five two Dance Company performance in July 2022

Photo by Alice Chacon Photography