Trauma

A classroom waits. They have just seen a number of random items, and have listened to stories. A typical "show and tell." I walk in, in a costume, and suddenly begin feeling absolutely self conscious. I introduce myself, and share that my show and tell will be an improvised dance.

You can do this, you have done it a thousand times in your room...

I nod to the teacher to press play on the music, and start moving. Small movements at first and then bigger, and bigger, and then, my mind goes blank. My body stops moving. I stand there, feeling so embarrassed and small.

Do something...

"Um... I think I am done..."

The teacher presses stop. The silence is to much. I run from the room, into the nearest restroom, and cry. I never want to leave. I can't dance. All of this time, I thought, maybe I could. Well, better to know the truth, right?

I hear the door open, and high heels click against the tile.

She's here...

She calls my name, and asks if I am alright. I am silent. After some time, she invites me to come back to class whenever I am ready, and leaves.

I eventually go back, facing the harsh judgment of my peers and the harsher judgment being inflicted by my mind.

Time heals wounds. This was a long time ago. I danced again. Many times. And I am pretty good at it. Not the best. But not the worst.