For a few weeks I worried too much about what my instructor thought of me. I was so intent on getting her approval that I started to forget that I was actually enjoying ballet again, and getting better at it each class. I really wanted to hear her say that I was doing well...that she could tell that I worked harder than any other girl in that class. But she wasn't going to tell me that. I had to be telling myself.

For those few weeks, I was angry at myself for every step that I missed, for every correction that I had to make. I just wanted to be good...good enough to be recommended to the next level, but I was going about it the wrong way.

I came home one night and talked to Jon about what I wanted. I wanted my instructor to tell me that I was good...not good, great. I wanted to be able to go on to the next level without taking this class again. I wanted to move on. I felt like in order for that to happen I had to have my instructor throwing her approval at me from every angle, at every second of every class. That was until I decided that I was going to be the one who gave me the approval.

For the next weeks, I worked my ass off...for me. I wasn't upset at myself when I made a mistake, I fixed it. I focused and concentrated on each and every movement that I performed, and I put my heart into it. I was proud of myself and it didn't matter if I wasn't moved to the next level, I had already.