Growing Up in the Ballet Industry

I always felt like I was a bit different to the other kids my age when I was growing up. I became more acutely aware of this when I was at high school. I remember regularly feeling down, but I could never understand why.

I started ballet as a hobby when I was around 5, but I don’t ever remember it just being a hobby. It quickly became apparent to my ballet teacher that I had a natural gift and I knew from then on that I wanted to be a ballerina when I grew up.

You can picture it now, at primary school, the teacher stood at the front of class, in her authoritative yet patronising demeanour, asking each of us in turn, “What do you want to be when you grow up?” My answer was always, “I’m going to be a prima ballerina” (queue the obligatory eye roll).

It was when I was at high school that I started to take my ballet training very seriously. I would train for a few hours every evening through the week, then weekends would consist of being ferried around the country by my poor dad, so I could attend various classes with some of the country’s finest teachers at the time.

It’s almost impossible to find the words to describe how ballet made me feel. There was something quite extraordinary about being able to leave the real world behind. As soon as the beautifully, haunting, emotive notes emerged from the piano and filled the room, I was overcome with a euphoric, emotional sense of freedom and belonging. To this day, I’ve never experienced a feeling quite like it.

Looking back; as passionate as I was about ballet, growing up in the ballet industry was pretty brutal. I was in love with ballet as an art form, but it was everything else that came with it which impacted my mental health.

I remember when I was training at my local ballet school; all of the mums would sit at the back of the studio, whispering amongst each other, scrutinising all of the girls in class. It really was fascinating to watch them live out their own dreams through their daughters. I remember being offered a scholarship to attend classes with a prestigious ballet company once a week; however the other mothers were so outraged that their daughters hadn’t been offered one that my scholarship was revoked.

The turning point for me was when I won a place at one of the top ballet schools in London when I was 16. This was quite literally everything I’d ever wanted, the one thing I’d been tirelessly working towards since attending that first ballet class when I was 5 years old.

I often get asked why I decided to quit ballet when I was on track to be so successful. “I was always injured and just decided it wasn’t for me anymore,” is my default answer. The truth is, at the time I couldn’t tell you why I wanted to leave. I just knew I couldn’t carry on anymore.

I’ve successfully blocked this from my thoughts up until recently. I could never understand how I seemingly, so easily let go of the one true love in my life.

I now honestly believe that, although I was only 16 at the time, I was depressed.

The difficulty growing up in such a strict and regimented environment, is that you are made to believe that you are never, ever good enough. The ballet tutors very rarely called out what I did well; instead they repeatedly reminded me of my flaws and what I needed to do better. This mentality then starts to creep into other aspects of your life, particularly around your appearance; you’re not thin enough, you’re not pretty enough. I was constantly striving for unachievable perfectionism.

The one thing I still struggle with to this day is the enormous void that remains since I gave up ballet. I’ve tried to fill this in in various unhelpful ways that never work. I also struggle with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder and Bulimia, which counsellors have advised are as a result of the belief instilled in me from such a young age that I need to be perfect.

When I moved to London, I felt like an object rather than a human being with feelings. I’ll never forget, there was a girl in my year who gradually became so painfully thin. It was so distressing to see her skeletal frame in just a pair of tights and a leotard. I was mortified when nobody, not even one of the tutors, did anything about it! I remember trying to approach her about it and offered my support, but she denied that anything was wrong. This poor girl needed professional help.

Although I was physically prepared for full time professional ballet training, I certainly wasn’t mentally prepared. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.

I have very mixed emotions when I look back at my old life in the ballet world. On the one hand, I feel incredibly lucky that I experienced a talent that I was blessed with. I feel lucky that I had the opportunity to be sincerely passionate and in love with such a beautiful art form. I’m lucky that it has instilled in me a great work ethic, along with drive and determination to succeed at anything I put my mind to.

On the other hand, I’m incredibly sad that the potential negative impacts on mental health, at such a young and impressionable age, was not acknowledged.

I do hope that the more people talk and speak up about this subject, the more this industry will understand the importance of mental health support and start to make steps in the right direction. Xx