Intellectual Twister

Some things never change no matter what age you are.  I remember as a child hating the separation of students into teams during gym.  Regardless of my skill level, I was always had an anxiety attack hoping not to be the last one left for a team.  The last person was not picked but was a burden for the team and certainly never welcomed by other members.  This was usually my role…that or second to last which is really the same as two teams have to take a leftover.  High school dances were much the same.  I prayed that I might be asked and the dance would near and near with no approaches.  Its a blessing I ended up with a college age boyfriend who went with me to the prom…I always wondered if I was uglier than other girls.  What was wrong with me. 

These feelings never change.  My entire dance career has been about the bench.  My face peaking through the square window in the door of an audition hoping to be noticed or chosen.  Being chosen as a dancer in others choreography, getting jobs and even being asked by friends is a rare occurrence.  Searching for a reason, my rational brain can only assume my talent is limited.  Perhaps that is the bitter pill I must accept.  That reality leaves me feeling embarrassed and regretful for my life’s work devoted to training. Relationships are no different.  In this adult scenerio, the dance is marriage and I am yet to be asked.  It seems impossible to merely be asked for a date…and again I ask the question, what is wrong with me?  I remember asking my mother if I was attractive…her answer was that there would always people much more attractive than I.  She was trying to protect me, I think…perhaps from the feelings I have at this very moment.  Another bitter pill I need to swallow.  In the meantime, I watch my friends with babies and husbands…all busy with their families and I am on the bench perpetually awaiting a team of my own.  Time being on my side was my only consolation but even time has run out.  Now I am left alone to figure things out.