It is a life-long journey that we are on to find our identity. We are looking for those things that make us unique, that bring us success, and that hold us back, and these things define our personality. We set standards for ourselves and observe our boundaries. We take so many extraordinary measures, but when are we supposed to discover who we are? Is there a specific moment; is there an initiation age; is it ever certain? What happens if what defines us must suddenly be let go? How do we find new purpose with what is left?

I have always identified myself with being a dancer. Since age three I have been in dance class, but since birth I have danced. It is not a path for the faint of heart, and seldom are dancers taken seriously. Few understand the commitment, the scrutiny, the self-sacrifice, the physical and emotional pain- and the unspeakable joy- that dance affords its chosen ones. It truly is an unspeakable joy that is found in the classroom, in rehearsal, or on stage. It becomes more than a hobby. It is defining.

My dance teacher was the first to notice the curve, and I was diagnosed with scoliosis at the age of ten. Scoliosis is a lateral curvature of the spine ranging from slight to severe. It often gets worse during adolescent growth and stops worsening when growth stops. It affects girls and boys, but it is not life threatening. At eleven I was wearing a back brace at night, and at twelve, both day and night. Adolescence is a difficult time to deal with this anomaly. During a time when everyone was trying to fit the norm, it made me feel different. This caused me much anxiety and depression. Dance class was my only time of liberation, which made my desire to dance even stronger.

I stopped wearing the brace once I got to high school because I had stopped growing; but during my second semester of college I received troubling news. My curve had worsened by fifteen degrees in four years, and it was time to consider surgery. The doctor informed me from the start that, with the surgery, dancing professionally would not be likely though I would be able to dance recreationally. He also advised that without the surgery, my spine would continue to curve, leaving me with life-long discomfort and misshapenness. I went through with the surgery in July of 2007. They placed two titanium rods on either side of my spine, held in place by hooks. Two months later, I am still recovering and have little pain.

I am thankful for my overall health, for the success of the surgery, that one day soon I will dance again, and that amongst all this emotional turmoil, I have found a new passion. This art is expressed in the kitchen, not in the dance studio, and my training begins here at Johnson and Wales University. Cooking and dancing require many of the same skills: discipline, artistry, technique. However, knowledge of food can also provide me with endless career opportunities, where as a dancer I might never have worked steadily. This transition of redefining myself has been a difficult one, and I have learned that it is actually an ongoing one. Being in touch with oneself requires constant learning, redefining, and reapplying, not just a single static interest. This lifelong journey I am on? I know now that this is just the beginning of finding my own identity.