Wednesday, August 8, 2012

Weddings and Dancing



Sometimes, because of all of the medication I take, I have really vivid dreams. The dreams are always pleasant, just very detailed and very real. My favorite dream, that seems to reoccur quite a bit, is a dancing dream. I am a fantastic dancer, in my dream, much like a world champion. I am flying through the air, my feet and legs pumping blood with every leap, turn, and twist of the foot. My feet never seem to touch the ground and every step is fluid and executed in midair. My friend, Kelly, is always there, yelling up to me, "Berger, Berger, you aren't touching the ground, your feet aren't on the ground!". I always yell back, "Kelly, I know, I can't stop it, I can't stop my legs, they just won't stop!". We start laughing and crying because I am out of my chair and dancing, and my legs just won't stop for anything, it feels like magic, like I am flying.

I know why I have this dream. It is because one of my biggest hurdles was and still is, grieving the loss of dancing. Not just Irish Step Dancing, but all dancing. I know I can still move part of my body and there are many ways to still enjoy the experience, but I still miss real, unmodified dancing and using my two legs. It is probably a silly thing to miss in comparison to all of the wonderful things I am still able to do, but a part of me remains stuck. Admittedly, I may rock out, by myself, in my room to Mercy by Duffy here and there, even using a hairbrush or some other ridiculous prop as a microphone, but dancing it is not. The void stings a little bit every single time. Sometimes it lingers, but mostly, I don't even think about it or remember it and then sometimes I am in a situation where I am faced with it, head on.

This past weekend I went to a wedding. I have a thing about weddings. They terrify me actually. If I am asked to be in a wedding, it doesn't matter what role, I stress and worry about the inevitable fact that I will soon have to be in front of people, plain as day, no hiding. Because of my infection, I had a fever, felt miserable, or was emaciated while trying to attend and be a part of every single wedding I was included in during that time. And now, because of this, I associate them with so much pain and sadness. I had trouble focusing on anything other than how awful I was feeling and tried very hard, much to the detriment of myself, to put on a brave face and pretend like nothing was wrong. But, the dancing would start and I would feel the pressure, like a heavy weight, reminding me I didn't belong. I couldn't dance and I didn't want to pretend I could. I didn't feel well and I was terribly envious of everyone spinning and moving their legs and hips all around me. I always just wanted to leave.

Now, as I am starting to recover from a long battle, the progress very slow, but very steady, my healing is taking many forms. I'm not just physically healing, but am emotionally healing as well. And part of repairing the emotional damage involves finding new ground for once wounded relationships. When I was newly injured, I found it most difficult returning to my Irish Dancing family. I couldn't accept myself as I was and didn't want to be a part of that world as I was, a paraplegic. I still wanted to do everything I did before and not compromise at all. Some of my toughest trials occurred because of my reluctance to change my view of my dancing relationships. I refused to accept my condition, especially in this scenario. So many things were happening to me at this time, holding tightly to a slipping grip wasn't working anymore and I finally just let go of my longest and dearest friendships. I was suffering so much and so fearful I turned inward rather than let anyone know how I was truly feeling. I just stopped calling.

Each relationship deserves its own story, but one of the most important is the relationship with my former dancing teacher, Mary. Irish dancing isn't just a sport or a hobby, it is a community and a family. National competitions are held in big cities and fancy hotels. Everyone stays together and competes all day and celebrates all evening. Bonds are formed likened only to sisterhood and everyone is there for each other in more ways than can be imagined. Mary and I shared that bond. The day I fell from the horse, I talked to her on the phone. She was one of the first people to come to my bedside following my accident. Actually, three people, other than my family, came to the hospital in Chattanooga and Mary was one of them.


Me, Kelly, and Mary. I am so swollen because of all of my injuries. My entire body was swollen, head to toe, much like the Marshmallow Man from Ghostbusters.


She fought for me and helped me with every ounce of her heart. My hospital room was always full of McGing Irish Dancers. Madeline, who was a very, young girl at the time, crawled in bed with me and Deirdre would wear my back brace and play "Sarah Berger" and transfer in and out of my wheelchair, while I sat in bed with Madeline and laughed and laughed. They came everyday, all of them. Bringing cards, well wishes, and love. I went on trips to out of state competitions and tried to hang out with everyone at the hotel bars. It was just how it should be, only, I couldn't do it. I couldn't be a part of something I loved so much and not participate the way I wanted to. The constant reminder of what I was missing was too much to bare. Several stressful and upsetting conversations boiled the tension over and finally it was done and I was alone. This world was gone. I became far too sick and far too detached to think of it as anything but a memory. The thought of starting over, being honest about wanting to give up while hating every push of my wheelchair, and having to share the envy I felt every time I watched the kids run through the halls with someone else or witnessed everyone carrying on with teaching, organizing, and running errands without me, was more than I could handle. I just stopped, I had to.

Mary never stopped though. Every year, during the ten years we hardly communicated, she called. She would call either to say "Happy Birthday", or to say that she remembered it was July 17, the day I fell. Sometimes we would even go to lunch. She never asked for more, just a brief chat and that was okay with me. I couldn't handle much more. She never gave up, slowly pulling me back in. Recently, her daughter, Madeline, was preparing to leave for college and asked if we could all have lunch before her departure. At the lunch, Mary said she sensed something different in me, a wellness and the return of a spirit that had been lost for quite sometime. A few months went by and she called again and asked me to see Deirdre star in Lord of the Dance. I went. I saw all of my old friends, my old world, face to face. The vivid and jarring losses were painful, but, much to my surprise, overwhelming feelings of calm and peace replaced the anger and hurt. I was finally comfortable with my new self in this world. I will never be a part of it in the same way again, but that doesn't mean I can't still participate, just in a new and different way. Since the show, I've taken necessary and long over due steps to begin mending meaningful and needed friendships and I shattered my walls, allowing new relationships to form out of the rubble. Everything is a work in progress, but when there is so much love, the ride is very smooth. Open arms don't even begin to describe the response. I didn't expect it, but should have known it.

Sarah, Mary's niece, was married Saturday evening and it was beautiful. There was a ton of dancing, both Irish and not so Irish. Tons and tons of girls sweated it out on the dance floor and barely stopped for a break. Dancers, young and old, lined up and took turns doing steps two or three at a time, one right after another. It was a perfect evening. Joy filled the room and echoed down the hallways.





Earlier that day, the same wedding trepidation returned, but, as the evening progressed, I noticed it wasn't so terrifying after all, I figured it out - I discovered how to attend a wedding. I did what was comfortable for me, choosing to stay close to the bar and chat with old friends and laugh with young people who are all grown up. It was a perfect and lovely evening. One point, Mary, the world's greatest arm grabber and puller, pulled me on the dance floor and I reluctantly surrendered. I tried to turn around and sneak out, but she grabbed the back of my chair and yanked me back. I danced with all of my friends for a song and returned to sit on the side with another old friend. Everything was okay, I was okay. I said to my friend as we were sitting and watching, "Oh, it just bugs me I can't dance," and he very gently and sympathetically said, "I know, I know." And that was all. It was just a moment and then it passed.

Mary pulling me in.
Me finally giving in and dancing.



I still struggle with so many issues and have many mountains yet to climb, but each time I take a step in the right direction, I confirm to myself, everything is just fine and will be just fine. When I let go of what once was, and start living as things are, my previously blind eyes begin to see what was there all along, people who love me, pulling me back in, just as I am.




30 comments:

  1. You are so beautiful out on that dance floor! I'm so proud of you and we've never met. :) But, I'm glad I found your blog - keep feeling better.

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  2. oh I hear you. Even if you have many things to be grateful of, there are many things to be sad of. If dancing was (is!) such a big part of your life no wonder you had such trouble letting it go. I'm glad that you are slowly finding your way back. I'm also super proud of you! ps that shade of blue looks beautiful on you, as does your big smile =D

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  3. You had me crying again! What a beautiful post and yes, the healing is happening. I am sure your dance friends have just been waiting for you until you were ready. Its nice to see pictures on your blog. (ps I bet the next wedding you go to will be yours..)

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  4. Little by little one step at a time you are healing yourself. It's a long journey the scenery changes every day. Although you can't dance in the traditional way you can use other parts of your body to express yourself. You are blessed to have Mary with you on this journey. Enjoy and focus on what you can do. Love your writing.

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  5. Oh, Sarah, you brought tears to my eyes. What a gift you have in telling your experience. You are able to share the emotions that you have gone through these years. I love reading your writing.

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  6. The pictures of you dancing are beautiful! And you look stunning!

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  7. I'm reading and loving your attitude on life. You truly are a beautiful girl and a beautiful writer!

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  8. Its such a joy to see you in photos- you are beautiful but I have a feeling the light I see comes from the inside out. Going through illness has definitely caused me to mend relationships and friendships in ways I could never have dreamed of. You "shed" parts of yourself and reshape them and there is a lot of joy that can come in doing so- even when its hard.

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  9. Just happened to come across your blog (from Kelle Hampton's post) and love it --- you are beautiful inside and out and such an inspiration. I love the story behind the blog name...of course you're the same person, just sitting down: LOVE IT! And btw, that blue dress you wore at the wedding is gorgeous, just like you! Keep on keeping on :)

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  10. Beautiful post, beautiful pictures!! I love seeing all of the dancers, including you.

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  11. Oh yeah, I LOVE that dress. Beautiful color.

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  12. I'm so glad your being pulled back in, love that beautiful smile!!

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  13. Hello Sarah - I found you through Kelle's blog and oh may I just say I am so happy she shared your letter. You are truly an inspiration and this post confirms it! I have to tell you that you looked absolutely beautiful in that dress and oh how my heart melted as I read that Mary got you out on that dance floor. I can't begin to say I understand your feelings but I can say that I loved your pictures and the happiness on your face. Thanks for sharing and you better believe you have a new follower or should I say stalker (giggle). Keep on keeping on ... the mountains will become smaller and smaller and I will be watching / reading as you take each "step" and share it with us (friends you just haven't met yet).

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  14. Sara you are beautiful! Your honesty and grace through it all is such a blessing!

    keep dancing!

    xoTiffany

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  15. Loved reading this, your friend Mary sounds like a jewel.

    It reminded me of a friend of mine who had a friend named Mary who helped her through the hardest time of her life...Shelley...she was at the Mayo clinic in Rochester for ages trying to find out what was going on...Mary and Shelley started wheel chair dancing one day in a common area where someone was playing the piano and it turned out that her wheel chair dances were one of the only times she got any relief from her pain and sickness. They would go every day and dance for one or two songs, just for some relief for Shelley. This was several years ago and now they finally figured out what was wrong with her and she is working towards healing, but what a long road. I think you and her would have a beautiful connection actually. Anyhow, if you want to see them dance I'll post the link from youtube, if you search Wheelchair dancing Rochester, it brings the video up too.
    http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=endscreen&NR=1&v=n1Y0ptc83ak

    I agree with the other people commenting, you look beautiful dancing at the wedding...your face is just lit up with joy....thanks for sharing your heart.

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  16. New reader...love your blog!!!:)

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  17. What I can't get over is that in each picture of you, even the one where you are lying in your hospital bed, you have the biggest, most gorgeous smile on your face that I have ever seen. I don't know you at all, but it is so evident that you can still dance, Sarah. You're dancing in your soul.

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  18. Sarah, what a fantastic post about dance. I think one of my favorite quotes of yours is how Mary is a great "arm puller". Isn't that the truth! Hahaha. I remember being out there when Mary pulled you out to dance, and I couldn't help but think about how happy you looked and how much joy you were exuding on that dance floor. I am absolutely loving this blog; you are such an inspiration. Keep writing!! P.S. What AWESOME pictures you used. ;)

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  19. i found your blog through kelle hampton. your writing brings comfort to me and i will continue to follow your blog. can't wait to see what your future posts bring. (and PS - you have great arms!). :-)

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  20. Sarah - you are just as beautiful now as you were all those years ago at CCG. I was a counselor there the summers of 91 & 92. Your spirit is just sparkling in these photos. I am so proud of you for sharing your story and I look forward to following your blog and see how God is going to use you to inspire countless others.

    Katie Van Nus Sanders

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  21. Your blog heals my heart in so many ways...thank you for your honesty...you are so beautiful!

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  22. What a beautifully written post. You have been through so much...and to think of you going to all the weddings while fighting the infection, you are so brave! "That which doesn't kill us only makes us stronger" I believe that is true.
    You are GORGEOUS! Dancing in your wheelchair.
    A healing of the spirit, moving toward a well lived life, maybe that's even more important than the healing of the body. Yes?
    xoxo

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  23. I stumbled upon your blog from Enjoying The Small Things and I loved your spirit and how open and candid you were. You remind me a lot of my mother in law. She was paralyzed 30 years ago and has continued to live her life with as much faith, determination, and stubbornness as any person can. I say stubbornness because of a conversation we had the other day. She told me of that was her one fault then she is OK with that. You have a light inside of you and I love that you are keeping it burning bright.

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  24. Sarah, you need to write a book! You are such an inspiration! I couldn't get over the picture of you in the hospital with your swollen body, yet beautiful smile. It's obvious your inside is as beautiful as your outside! I'm so glad I found your blog!

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  25. I am excited for you and your friends and hope you can find a few of the true friends again. I have my friends & family in a communication quagmire now too and am praying for strength and light to find a path to healing and growing. Good luck and thanks for sharing.

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  26. Wow! Great post! Your truly good friends just NEVER give up on you, and Mary is obviously a truly good friend. She loves you, cares about you, just the way you are. LOVE the dress you have on - gorgeous blue! Looks fab on you! And hey, you can dance just as well as the rest of them - Lord knows I've got 2 good feet and an a pathetic dancer! Just go with what's in your heart and what you feel.........Glad you got back out there! YOU GO GIRL! We are all cheering for you! What an amazing, beautiful smile you have, too! :-)

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  27. Hey Sarah,
    I'm one of your sister, Lizzy's friends from Tulane, and she linked to your blog on her Facebook. Considering, she's never on Facebook ;) I thought i'd see what this link was all about... and I'm so incredibly happy I did. Thanks for your courage and honesty in expressing the good and bad times surrounding a life change that I'm sure many of us can't ever imagine experiencing. You can tell through your writing that you are a genuine, humble, and sincere individual who makes the most of what you've been dealt... but doesn't disregard the tough times and what you've been through. I sense some of Lizzy's type humor and goofiness too ;) Thanks again for sharing, and I'll be sure to continue to read about your story.

    ~tasha

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  28. Great blog Sarah. I loved seeing the wedding pictures...and your dancing...lovely as always. Good to hear the joy of life is returning to you. Love you.

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  29. This is the one that has hit me the hardest so far. I think because I enabled you to be in denial and was right there with you during those years of trying to act like you were the "same old Sarah." I may have pressured you to return to our old stomping grounds and socialize with our whole crew b/c you were one of my closest friends and I selfishly wanted you by my side out and about. It made me sad to see you sick and weak and miserable and I didn't know how to "fix" it.

    I am happy that you have let me back in to your life and have opened up about your pain and strength. It turns out I love this "new Sarah" even better than the old one. She's genuine, compassionate, strong, brave, mindful, and one damn good cook!

    I am also relieved that you've let your dancing friends back in your world. They were always such a strong force for you and care immensely about your well-being.

    p.s.~ Great dress, Hot Mama!

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Thank you for commenting. I appreciate all of your words.