Working out how to get out of my own way.
In 2023, I had a big, crazy, ‘I-may-be-having-a-midlife-crisis’ idea.
As I explained in Choosing Differently, a fun night at a reunion with old dancing friends had planted the seeds of returning to the performance stage at 45 years of age.
I was feeling a bit giddy at the concept—memories of the heart-filling adrenaline high that results from the applause of an appreciative audience bubbled up from inside a part of my memory that I thought had been long forgotten.
The rational voice in my mind started to temper the growing enthusiasm I was experiencing; however, I was worried I was getting too carried away. Was this just a fleeting idea, or was it something I actually wanted to pursue?
I have my own unique internal process for figuring out what I really think about something. It is effective but not very pretty and usually involves contradictory mental and emotional experiences.
First, I dream big, with no limits on what is possible, and then I create doomsday scenarios, concocting a group of fictitious ‘they’ in my head who scornfully judge my idea. (Told you it was unique!)
To help me negotiate the extremes of this internal dialogue, I usually seek the perspective or reflection of real people in my inner sanctum so I can weigh up the size of my imagined goal, temper the voices of the fictitious ‘they’, and get a read on whether this dream is something that I really want to turn into a goal and a defined action plan.
This was clearly a situation where I needed the voices of people that I loved and trusted with the idea of me dancing professionally again to gauge its reality and possibility.
The first call I made was to my husband. Without his love and support, I knew the day-to-day logistics of preparing for a goal like this one couldn’t be achieved.
This is precisely how the conversation went.
“Hi Jays.” (My nickname for my husband, Adam)
“Hi, my Love.”
I went straight in. “How would you like a European holiday in 18 months’ time?”
His tone immediately changed to excitement, “Sounds good! What are you thinking?”
“Well, I’m thinking about getting fit enough to rejoin OzScot and then maybe travelling with them to Basel or Belfast next year.”
“That is fabulous…. where do you think we could go afterwards?”
If I can put this short interaction into context, I had not danced professionally for over 13 years. While Adam knows I was a dancer when I was younger, I have not performed officially in all the time we have been married, and I have never shown any interest in doing so before this out-of-the-blue conversation.
Where was the confusion? Where was the surprise? Where was the incredulation?
His lack of reaction to my sudden desire to dance overseas left me tingling with excitement. I love him dearly and trust him implicitly—he was supposed to be the first line of defence to tell me that this idea was a crazy one. While we obviously had details and plans to sort and implement, it seems it had got through the first gate.
The seed of this idea started to germinate.
A few days later, the next call was to Cheryl Roach, the OzScot Dance Director. Cheryl is one of the most inspirational, imposing trailblazers I have ever met. Her formidable reputation reflects her steel spine, lofty expectations, and incredibly deep heart and love of Highland Dancing, which has seen her mentor hundreds of young adult dancers worldwide, including myself. It was Cheryl’s team I was aiming to get back into, and she was the one who made the executive decision about who could participate. This dream could not be realised without Cheryl’s blessing.
My call with Cheryl took a similar route to the one with my husband. Once she was satisfied that I wasn’t having a midlife crisis trying to recreate the dancing highs of two decades earlier, her voice filled with the fierce delight that I recognised when she was genuinely interested in someone’s lofty goal.
I had one question I needed to know the answer to – “Cheryl, if I can get myself back into good enough condition to rejoin your team – you know, when the time comes, I would never put myself forward if I didn’t genuinely think I could do it – would you accept me at 45 years of age?”
Her reply? “Lisa, if you are in good enough condition to dance a Tattoo next year, yes, there will be a place for you. Keep me in the loop of your progress throughout this year, and we will talk when the time comes.”
That was all I needed to hear.
I had NO IDEA at that moment how I would meet the condition; however, I knew that dancing on the international stage was possible if I achieved it.
The door to this goal was clearly ajar.
After I hung up on this call, I remember standing outside in my garden with the warmth of the sun on my face, incredibly conscious of how life can change in moments. This was not on my radar only days ago, and now look at what I was considering!
It was time to discuss details and outline a plan. I had to work out how to transform from my ‘middle-aged, kind-of active Mum body’ and work-from-home lifestyle, into that of a capable and valuable Highland Dancing Tattoo team performer.
There was only one person to call – my friend, Andrew.
I just happen to be friends with one of the most impressive physical movement analysts and trainers I have ever witnessed, in person or online.
As a trainer of pre-professional and professional dancers worldwide, I had the pleasure of witnessing Andrew bring his expertise to Highland Dance at an international Highland Dance conference in South Africa a few years ago and marvelled at his ability to diagnose and re-direct the careers of world-class performers.
I had never considered asking Andrew to train me. Now, I wondered if there was a spot on his client list for this woman with a random dream.
We organised a Zoom catch-up, and I shyly presented my goal to him. I’m not sure he even literally blinked. Sure, he said, I returned to elite-level Ice Hockey when I was 42, so why can’t you return to dancing?
Again, no laughter, no hidden bemusement, no outright disagreement.
Our conversation quickly turned to logistics, guidelines, and expectations, and when we ended the call, I was booked in to train twice a week online.
I had myself a world-class trainer, starting the following week.
After these three calls, my overriding experience was elation, excitement, and joy. It was like some kind of inner shackles had been thrown off, and being at the edge of my comfort zone – where I have loved to be my whole life – was suddenly possible for me again.
I have always loved training, setting goals, and seeing if I can do what it takes to achieve them. In the past, however, this has come with some battle scars, which resulted from high expectations, the desire for external validation, and becoming an expert at ignoring my body and emotional feelings so I could push myself to my limits.
These days, I have learned how to be kinder to myself and my body and listen to my wants, needs, and internal boundaries. The supportive, practical, and positive response from these three people, whom I deeply respect and care about, helped me to realise I could go to the edge of where I was comfortable once again without falling into the same traps of the past.
I realised that I was giving too much credit to the fictitious ‘they’ that I concocted in my head whom I imagined would immediately think it was crazy for me to set off on a goal like this.
The special people I had spoken with showed me that those people were imaginary. Or, more accurately, those people (if they existed) were simply echoes of bad experiences I had had in the past or projections of my fears, inhibitions, and self-doubts.
The real people in my life, the ones I cared about the most and the ones that loved, respected, and cared for me, well, they didn’t blink an eyelid.
There were two more people I had to run this crazy dream past. If there was anyone who was going to bring me back to earth it was them – my Mum and Dad.
When we sat down together and I told my whole story, Dad just twinkled his eyes and me and smiled. Mum said “Oh, okay”.
When I probed her for more of a response, Mum just raised her eyebrows with slight confusion said, “What? There is nothing else to say, that is just what you do”.
Indeed. And it seemed I was about to do it again.
