And last Wednesday, I was so blessed to have witnessed a Contemporary piece choreographed by Tyce Diorio and performed by top 6 finalists, Ade and Melissa.
This piece chronicles the life of a woman struggling with breast cancer. Though I have not gone on this journey with anyone, what I saw in the dance was Melissa and Ade separately dealing with the seven stages of grief:
1 - Shock & Denial
2 - Pain & Grief
3 - Anger & Barganing
4 - Depression, Rejection & Loneliness
5 - The Upward Turn
6 - Reconstruction & Working Through
7 - Acceptance & Hope
I have posted the link here and invite you to view this very moving piece:-
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hKxoCxalyWw&feature=related
During the execution of the piece, I found myself tearing up, but I held back, because of the presence of my boyfriend. He has often told me that he sees me as strength personified - through adversities, I have kept my composure and I have persevered through all obstacles. I feared that if he saw me crying, he would think less of me.
I happened to be at my dear friend Sandra's home on Thursday night, and we watched the elimination show together. We both discussed the effect the piece had on us, and I admitted that I held back my tears, because of my boyfriend's presence. Sandra, who is just as (if not more) emotional than me, had cried (bawled, as she put it), and after listening to how I handled the piece, simply asked, "But Camille, isn't that being inauthentic?" And she was right. I was being inauthentic on Wednesday night. I felt moved to tears but held back, because of the ego. It is so good to have friends who are in the same space as you are. Friends who are not afraid to coach you into seeing things and situations for what they are. Friends who are not afraid to point out that maybe, just maybe, you handled a situation from an unconscious place.
Today I had a discussion with my boyfriend about how I felt on Wednesday night, and admitted to him that I so wanted to cry. That I too, am human. I too am vulnerable. I too am imperfect. He was very supportive, admitting that he had not realised that the demeanour I had put on was a mask. He was fooled then, but now expressed his love for and support of me, by stating that crying isn't a sign of weakness and I should never feel that I can't cry in his presence if I wanted or needed to. I exhaled and looked at the piece again, and this time - I cried.
