My Story

When I was 25 years old, (having just moved back to Tennessee from Colorado) I was introduced to one of the most wonderful human beings I have ever met in my life, Jonathan Mills. Luckily for me, he thought the same thing about me and we instantly fell in love. It was a feeling we both just knew, immediately, “this is my person”. It seemed as though my life was starting to fall into place. The love I had asked for was finally here.

Nine months later, I came home from work on a brutally hot and humid day in July.  That’s when my life changed forever. My partner was suffering from a horrible asthma attack. Soon after the ambulance arrived he went into cardiac arrest; and after several days on life support he was released from his physical body. 

I thought my life was over and began to lose all sense of self.  Thoughts of suicide, PTSD flashbacks, and excessive drug and alcohol use became my world.  After two attempts on my own life and two hospitalizations it was time to make a choice. It’s funny how when you hit rock bottom more than once things start to slowly click. Did I want this to be the rest of my life? Is this tragedy who I was? And more so, is this how I wanted to remember such a special person in my life?

It was time to start picking up the pieces to put myself back together. This was not going to be an overnight transformation. In fact there were many times when I started making progress I’d go right ahead and hit the “self sabotage” button. I started making healthy changes to my diet and did different types of therapy; both which were very helpful. However, something was missing.  Having been a lifelong dancer that had been on hiatus for several years; it occurred to me I needed to start exercising that creative force inside of me. Interestingly, this time it wasn’t modern or ballet that called to me…it was aerial hoop. Something new and extremely challenging.

While consistency was not in my vocabulary at the time, it really resonated with me.  And little did I know the impact it would have on my recovery years down the road. Fast forward to 2019. I found myself living in Massachusetts having chased a man that I was convinced was going to be my new forever person.  It only took a few months before I realized the mistake I had made and had another mental breakdown and sent myself into inpatient; this time by choice.  It was there my doctors and I finally realized there had been a reason for my swings I had been dealing with for so long.  I was diagnosed with Bipolar II.  While this came as a tough pill to swallow, I found somewhat a relief in knowing so I could have the opportunity to become more aware of myself and my behavioral patterns.  While I was in the hospital, my band mate, a much older man, came to see me everyday.  He convinced me I should stay and move into his extra bedroom while I got back on my feet.

It wasn’t just a few weeks into the move the companionship turned romantic, as this person told me he already loved me and wanted to take care of me. Little did I know what would start to incur over the next several months.  What seemed as though I had been given a guardian angel, was actually was a person that was simply a predator.  As someone who was going through the trials of getting on new medications and coming to terms with my new diagnosis, I became an easy target for gaslighting, emotional and verbal abuse, and what eventually became sexual and physical abuse as well.  To top it off the Covid-19 pandemic had just hit. And there I was.  Yet again, stuck in the unknown of what the rest of my life was going to be.

In the midst of lockdown I started realizing how much I hated living in Massachusetts.  What I would later come to realize was it wasn’t just that but my intuition was telling me I needed to get out of my living situation (I still hadn’t come to terms with what was going on).  I wanted to leave. But going back to Tennessee wasn’t the answer.  I secretly pondered and researched different places I could go. And even though I wasn’t allowed to work full time I was saving what little I had to start building a cushion. Then one night I had a dream…there I was in the Rocky Mountains again.  When I woke up I knew. It was time to go back and give it another try. But would I just go by myself? Could I make it work with him and we go together? I was still in delusion about my relationship.  One morning, I came into the kitchen while he was cooking on the stove in his cast iron skillet as usual.  We chatted and I came behind him and gave him a loving scratch on the head. Out of nowhere a searing burn seared through my skin near my hip bone as he turned around and pressed that spatula against me.  I cried in pain and almost vomited as he continued to cook with no remorse. 

I was finally waking up from the nightmare I didn’t know I was in. It was time to follow my dream. 

September 2020 came and I got everything I needed lined up.  I packed up what I little I owned and my cat, Sookie, and made a 4 day trip across the country to Boulder, Colorado. Something about this felt very different from all of the times I had moved. I wasn’t necessarily running from my problems, and chasing love from external influences.  It was a deep knowing that I was being lead to my true path. Up to that point I was trying to fill the void of losing my partner and not knowing how to really live a healthy life and take care of my mental health. It lead to me being with someone who constantly reassured me how crazy and unloveable I was without him. It finally started to occur to me. Fuck that…I love me. I am lovable.  I was ready to reach inside myself. 

Getting back to Colorado on a solo excursion allowed me to embrace myself.  I was getting back into shape and going to therapy regularly to continue to process the past so I could live a more present life. I had also regularly started taking lyra classes again and even doing pole.  With therapy I was finally feeling like I was ready to live my life as someone who didn’t solely identify with my loss and trauma.  Yes, it all lead me to who I am but I didn’t want it to define me. I also did not want to carry the legacy of someone I loved through their tragic death. 

An opportunity the next spring arose when the studio I went to announced they would be holding a showcase.  I had to jump on the opportunity to perform on the lyra for the first time in front of an audience (and to perform dance again in general). For days I tried to come up with ideas, and the music I would use; but I couldn’t really come to a conclusion. Then one morning, it might have been Easter, I started going through a tote of clothes.  There I found Jonathan’s green flannel I had held onto which he wore all the time.  Why had I not kept this hanging up? Then, it occurred to me…this was my opportunity to do something for him.  I wanted to create my first lyra piece for him.  I wanted to honor him! This whole experience had led me to finding lyra which had now become my sanctuary.  What a gift!

Was it fair for me to continue living as a victim of my trauma and tell his story based on MY trauma? That had been my story for years.  The story I was telling for him had become my story about my pain.  My ego had allowed me to make decisions that put me in scenarios that made me lose sense of self and ultimately put me into bad situations. I no longer wanted to represent him this way because he deserves so much more than that. His life was not his death. I wanted to commemorate his life through movement.

And just as easy as that thought came to me; the song came; Cassidy, by The Grateful Dead whom he loved so much. I decided to reach out to one of my instructors to help since I had never choreographed on an apparatus before.  Unknowing that she was studying to be a death doula…it’s amazing how these synchronicities start happening once you allow yourself to open up.

I began recalling certain things I remembered about him.  Like how he rolled his shoulders back and forth when he danced, or how I never forgot how his “arm nook” felt when we were laying together.  I remembered my favorite moment of us together…down at World’s Fair Park as we watched the kids playing in the water fountains.  And just like those kids we decided to take our shoes off, held hands, and ran through the fountains. Time stopped as we kissed in the water.  

All of these wonderful memories I began to embody as I utilized the visceral feelings of these memories to create my choreography. I was finally allowing myself to let go of the “loss” and make room for the feelings of love in the infinite present.  Weeks went by as the show got closer.  There were run throughs I couldn’t even finish because I would tire and start bawling my eyes out. And as painful as those moments were, it was beautifully cathartic, and the more I would do it the freer I felt.  Even at dress rehearsal I got through the piece beautifully but had a breakdown after showing it to a group for the first time.  But, I was embraced by open arms as the group surrounded me and made me feel so safe having shared that for the first time.  

The night of the show came and while I felt the normal jitters, everything seemed right. I knew I was doing the right thing.  Of course, I had that moment of self doubt that I wasn’t going to do him justice but I had to decide to let that go.  As the music came up I was completely taken over and felt his presence; wearing his flannel and embodying his essence. When I took my bow something was released, and I felt so much solace.

As performance artists, we hope that what you created moved at least one person in the audience. I had a woman that was introduced to me afterwards.  I honestly cannot even remember her name. She explained how she had lost her partner recently, and how much that piece meant to her.  We hugged and cried on each other’s shoulders for probably five minutes. 

About a month after the show was his five year sunset anniversary.  The past few years I had spent either locked inside, or screaming in my car in a parking lot.  This time was different.  It was a beautiful sunny day in Colorado.  I went and talked to my therapist. I felt good, grateful, and more at peace.  I felt like I could breathe.  As I walked home on that beautiful Colorado day I felt the sun shine down and smiled.

Little did I know what I had created at the time.  Years down the road I find that I am ready to serve my calling as a healer and artist.  It is with my whole being I truly believe this process of dance making can help others that are ready to take the next step in healing and become whole again.  Am I promising that you’ll never feel pain or sadness ever again? No.  But, going through the process of physically releasing traumatic memories and using movement as a way to restore the emotional body to a place of peaceful, loving, memories; can help grow around that pain and rise out of our “egos”. You too, can lead a life from your heart, again. We need to tell the stories of those we love so much; honoring them and keeping them alive while we in turn create peace for ourselves.  And with the right community feel you and your loved one can be seen and heard; and never knowing who, along the way, will be touched by their story.