I started dancing at 3 years old when my parents enrolled me in ballet classes as an after-school activity. It seemed like something I enjoyed and I was very consistent with practice, so it eventually became formal dance training that lasted for almost 17 years. From preschool to high school and even college, dance was one of the few constant things in my life and became a huge facet of my identity.

At such a young age, I was already used to taking center stage and dancing in front of a large crowd. It’s even safe to say that most of my core childhood memories involved dance—from learning choreographies, applying heavy stage makeup, to dressing up in the most elaborate costumes.

I was actually looking through old photos from my dance recitals when I realized that it’s been years since I last performed in a show. I’ve forgotten how much time and effort it took to prepare for a production, and how the audience could have zero clue as to what really goes on backstage and on the sidelines.

Come to think of it, they never saw all my bruises from practicing complicated routines for days on end. They never saw all the blisters underneath my shiny pointe shoes. They also never saw through my fake smile every time I stepped out into the spotlight.

Somehow, as I was perusing through these photos, I saw things in a very different light. I became a lot more curious about what really happened behind the scenes versus what the show and our finest ballerina selves appeared to be.

It’s quite coincidental that I grew up a performer, always showing my best and most polished self onstage, because truthfully, that’s exactly how I also lived my life offstage.

I worked so hard to nail my routines to perfection and to only show my best appearances to everyone around me. Mistakes were unacceptable and failure was my worst enemy. I felt the need to uphold a certain image and did everything in my power to live up to it.

This was when it dawned on me that my whole life has merely been a performance.

When I started questioning my world-view, I found that it’s all of these ridiculous societal standards that heavily influenced my behaviour and decision-making. I questioned why I had a strong desire to meet those standards and realized that it’s essentially because of fear. Beneath the seemingly perfect façade, I feared not having to belong. I feared judgement. I feared rejection.

On the surface, I wanted to achieve success and “make it” in the world, but my underlying desire was to simply feel seen. I tried so hard to compensate for this deep longing in my soul by performing—chasing goal after goal, controlling every aspect of my life, and achieving perfection.

Will you only ever find true happiness after getting good grades, graduating with honors, joining the workforce, being in a relationship, getting married, and starting a family like what society prescribes?

My whole life, I worked so hard to tick off all of these “requirements” that it seemed like everything was actually going pretty well for me. I grew up an achiever, got into a prestigious university, landed my dream job, and was in a long-term relationship. Everything seemed perfect, but I was exhausted, anxious, and worse, completely unaware that my underlying fears and unresolved traumas were destructing my most valued relationships. What people saw was my best, most refined version after years and years of practice, but they had no clue that I was just a broken and fragmented little girl who never grew up and has become numb to what was really going on at her core.

This is how I embarked on my journey of self-discovery. Awareness is only the beginning and it’s an ongoing and probably a never-ending process of acknowledging painful truths, unlearning destructive mindsets, and shedding off parts of my identity that no longer serve me. The possibilities are endless and there’s still so much I have yet to discover, but it feels like this season has already given me a kind of peace and stability I’ve never felt before.

For now, I’ve decided to get to know my truest self, away from what society and the world dictates. After years of mindlessly projecting a false self, it genuinely feels like I don’t know even know who I really am. This encouraged me to start asking questions like, “Who am I without my reputation?, “Who am I without my educational background?”, “Who am I without all my connections?”, “Who am I without all the labels I’ve attached to my name?”.

I’ve become so curious about myself and what truly gives me life—like having a new friend and getting to know them on a deeper level. I stopped projecting outward and instead looked inward to understand my deepest needs, this time addressing them on my own and not letting the world and my relationships fill the void. I learned that no one can ever do this for me but my own self.

Consider this a declaration of freedom. I’ve quit performing. I’m done trying to put on a show. I may have exposed my vulnerability to each one of you witnessing my journey on this blog, but it feels so much more liberating and meaningful, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

This is who I am offstage.