As the road curved, the ocean came into view, spanning endlessly into the sky. My problems felt small, and the future felt bright. I was overcome by a sense of belonging, not to that place, but to a world of opportunities I had thrown away. I was in California, touring colleges with my mom weeks before the start of senior year. The evening prior, my phone was a flurry of messages and notifications, lights flashing and alerts sounding. I was walking to dinner with my mom, and silenced my phone in an attempt to silence the stress crawling through my body.

It was Nutcracker Casting Day, and my friends were ecstatic as they awaited this memory-filled tradition. I, on the other hand, shuddered at the thought of the long weekends to come, each one consumed by hours in the studio. I was tired of what I had been doing, but not ready to give it up all at once. From the moment I could walk, I was in dance classes; this studio became my second home, my second family, a place I never envisioned myself without. But I longed for the opportunity to experience a life unshackled by a show that consumed each fall of my adolescence. I never planned to make a change; it was my last season of ballet, how could I let it go?

When the casting was announced, I did not greet it with anticipation and joy; I was disturbed as I stared at the lines listing routines I had etched into my memory, routines I would spend months rehearsing as if they were foreign. As my mom and I ate dinner, I mentioned my thought of quitting, and she brushed it off. The next morning, we packed our bags and continued our trip along the California coast. The seed that had circulated in my angered mind took root and became a reality to consider. It was as if a key had been turned, a door had been opened, a light had been switched. I mentioned it again. My mom realized I was genuine, and as she considered it herself, she began not only to understand my perspective but to embrace it. As we sped down the coast, I could see what God was doing in my life. This was my breaking point, my turning point, the moment in which my prayers were being answered most unexpectedly. I was suffused with a feeling I will never forget; I had clarity for the first time in my life. It felt like my opportunities were limitless, and my joy was unmatched.

When I finally mustered the courage to draft an email, it sat finished for hours, until it was late that evening, the night before I flew home, and my sister had to click send for me. Without her help, I would never have mustered the courage to do it myself.

I soon told my teammates and friends I had quit, and my phone was a flurry of messages and notifications, lights flashing and alerts sounding. I was sitting in our Airbnb, and I looked at my phone, joy and accomplishment radiating through me as I watched my friends' astonishment and support.

I flew home the next morning, and as the sun rose over the horizon, I couldn’t help but smile. I needed no distractions. I sat peacefully peering through the window the entire flight, feeling as light as air, like a weight had been lifted. In choosing myself, I finally understand the freedom at the heart of the American story. I was taught that we cannot live for the expectations of others or follow the safest path. We must live boldly and with a purpose because life is too short to hold back. I now understand that taking control of your own path and pursuing your purpose is not selfish; it’s a blessing that leads to true and joyful service.

© Kate. All rights reserved. If you are interested in quoting this story, contact the national team and we can put you in touch with the author’s teacher.