It hit me tonight, just as I predicted it would. At a random time, doing a normal activity-walking my dog actually. I didn't have a meltdown or even cry, but I realized that I'm not a professional dancer anymore. Heck, at the moment I'm not a professional anything. Now, before anyone even starts to have that sentiment of "Oh, yes you are! You're this, this and this...." let me explain. I am still happy. I like not having anything to do at the moment but pretend like I'm on a small vacation. Let's be clear on that.
It was simply strange to think for the moment how structured my life has been up until this point for the better part of two decades. No matter what I may move onto next, I can pretty safely say that I will never have that kind of stressful structure again. Even if I was to become a professional body builder beginning tomorrow (feel free to snicker,) it wouldn't be the same as what it took me to be a professional ballet dancer. In my moment tonight, I became largely aware of how my colleagues will be going back to work in a couple of months-business as usual. There will be new dancers who have no idea who I was/am. I am now one of the mythical figures as a former dancer as the enigmatic people I used to hear tales of who had left the company before I joined.
Well, now I'm having a shift in thought process. I'm actually excited to imagine what the stories of me will be like! Hmmm.... I bet they'll be colorful! I can almost guarantee that!
I'm still massively enjoying New York City. Tonight, I stood with two friends in Times Square and looked around me at the bright lights and thought-no said out loud, "I've finally made it." You see, to me, the once young North Carolina boy who had a dream-this is making it. The first step of my dream was to live here. I've almost done it for a month now. It's quite amazing. I won't rest until I've found work. That's "dream" part two.