The exit that became a new beginning

Today, I am a physiotherapist, dance educator, and a dancer, but before I had the language for it, I was also a young dancer experiencing what I now recognize as REDs. It is not an easy task to recognize that something you love so deeply is also harming you.

Dance was my first love, and to this day, it still is, but when I was 14 years old, dance also became my greatest source of pain. It became an environment I began to fear, where I barely recognized myself and slowly lost the passion that once brought me so much joy.

The year was 2014, and while training in a professional ballet school environment, I began to experience significant physical, emotional, and social changes. It started with daily anxiety, a new kind of stress that I had never associated with dance before. I began asking my mom to pack only salads for school because that was what the other dancers were eating, and I did not want to stand out. 

Soon after, I stopped getting my period, not realizing at the time that this was defined as amenorrhea. I frequently felt exhausted and often sick, though I blamed it on the early mornings and demanding schedule. During pointe work, my feet hurt constantly from stress fractures endured during my time at the school. 

Dance became all-consuming.

I began isolating myself socially and became immensely critical of myself to dedicate all of my energy and attention towards training. This was my experience and sadly it is not a unique experience for dancers experiencing REDs. 

At that time, I did not have the knowledge or self-awareness to understand what was happening to my body. While I chose to ignore the challenges I was experiencing, my parents did not. 

Though they didn’t have the knowledge surrounding REDs in dancers, they saw how I was no longer myself and acted quickly. Not only did they recognize that something was wrong, but they also gave me the strength to leave that environment entirely. 

What felt like an ending at the time became a pivotal turning point: a sliding door moment that allowed me to heal and rediscover my love for dance in a healthier and more sustainable way. 

If it were not for their support and encouragement, I may never have rekindled my relationship with dance or healed from the experiences that once distanced me from it. I am lucky to say that to this day I still dance, but with a very different understanding of what it means to support the body that allows me to do so. 

Now, as a physiotherapist and dance educator, I carry both lived experience and clinical knowledge. I am passionate about shifting the conversation around REDs, and my experience recognizes that protecting dancers from REDs cannot fall on one person alone. It requires awareness and collaboration between dancers, parents, educators, healthcare professionals, and the broader dance community. 

Young dancers may not always recognize the warning signs within themselves, especially in environments where harmful behaviours can become normalized or even praised. Early recognition, open conversations, and supportive environments have the power not only to protect a dancer’s health, but also to preserve their long-term relationship with the art form itself. 

I share my story not only as a reflection of my past, but as a reminder that dance and health should never have to exist in opposition to one another. Thank you for taking the time to read my story today.