Quiet and reserved had always been the words to describe me. Being the tallest girl—and person— in any of my classes or extracurricular activities didn’t help my confidence either.  Though, at age 12, I found interest in ballet and decided to take up some classes. I might as well had put my long limbs to use. Surprisingly, my dance teacher had discovered I had a natural talent in ballet. I was told my lines were very elegant and that I picked up very quickly, especially to had been late in beginning ballet. Misty Copeland, a prodigy ballerina, was who I reminded my teacher of.  My confidence was slowly starting to build up each class I attended; however, looking back I realize that I had sudo confidence. The more the teacher complemented me, the better I felt, but the more correction she gave, the worse I felt. I assumed I had to know and perfect everything at each class. Unfortunately, my health took a turn for the worse, setting me back in any mental and physical progress I made in dance. I was battling severe scoliosis and every quarter inch I grew, so did the curve of my spine. The misalignment in my spine and hips altered my dance moves greatly. I became more self-conscious and had lost any confidence in myself. What’s worse, covid had shortly hit, meaning in-person classes were discontinued. Mentally, I had already quit dance, but, in reality, I decided to just take break from it. I had to re-examine why I started ballet in the first place and what I hoped to get out of it. I wished to get on pointe one day, but had to emotionally prepare myself that I’d never be without scoliosis and that it will always be a roadblock I’ll have to overcome. But my natural interest and love for dance propelled me to start ballet again and that’s what courage looks like for me—beginning something (or resuming, in my case,) even in the difficult times.