I had just finished my opening week of my West End debut and I felt exhilarated.
This was short-lived.
I remember exiting the stage after the most difficult dance number and thinking, “I have to do this eight times a week for an entire year.” Exhilaration quickly gave way to panic as I realised how unprepared I was for what I had signed myself up for.
I knew all the numbers; I knew my costume changes, and all the logistics of the job. But I had no idea where I would find the energy, stamina, and mental toughness necessary to make this contract healthy and sustainable.
A few months into my contract, my unpreparedness caught up with me when I started having acute pain in my lower back. I saw the physiotherapist provided by the company, but after several sessions they still couldn’t figure out the root of the pain, and referred me for an MRI scan to get a better understanding of what might be going on.
While I waited for my scan, I continued to struggle through my shows, not knowing whether I was making my injury worse. I did everything I could to keep going–making sure to warm up properly before my performances, applying ice and heat, stretching and tiger balm. The pain wasn’t getting better–in fact, it seemed to be getting worse.
On one particular two-show day, I had finished the first show and was in absolute agony. My back was visibly crooked, but I refused to call off from the second show. At the half, I went down to the stage to warm up with the rest of my cast and had every intention of continuing to push through, when one principal cast member noticed I was in pain, and came up to me. I will never forget what he said:
No one is going to give you a prize for continuing to injure yourself to get through another show. You only have one body and you need to take care of it.
The amount of relief I felt surprised me. He gave me the permission I didn’t know I needed at the time–permission to take care of myself and to put my needs above the show.
I went to the company manager and explained that I couldn’t do the show because I was in so much pain and apologised for waiting so late to sign myself off. I didn’t return to the show until two months later–after having an MRI scanned that confirmed an inflamed, bulging disc, and steroid injections to reduce the resulting inflammation that had been causing me so much pain.
I am so grateful for the lesson I learned at that moment. This show had been my dream for so long that I was willing to hold on to it no matter the cost. I had been so focused on not letting my company down that I let myself down. I mistreated my body in order to appear “disciplined” and “strong,” not realising that I was being the opposite.
What I learned from this injury is that mistreating your body and sacrificing your health are not signs of strength, they are signs that you have lost sight of your humanity for the sake of your craft. This is a dangerous place to be in, as you quickly find yourself feeling resentful, unhappy, and unfulfilled, not knowing that you unconsciously put yourself in this position by neglecting your human needs.
This is why I encourage my clients to stop romanticising their dream roles. Sometimes, looking at your dreams through rose-tinted glasses puts them on too high a pedestal. You fall into the trap of making those “I will be happy when____” goals, which unconsciously make you unhappy with where you are now, and feeds into the illusion that all your problems will go away once you book this role.
Please know this isn’t true. This kind of thinking stops you from preparing yourself for the reality you face once you book these roles and realise that the work doesn’t stop after opening night.
We often overlook the things that are not quite right about our dream job, because we’ve wanted this for so long and put so much time and effort into achieving it.
If you are finding yourself in this position, I know it is difficult to be honest with yourself and acknowledge that what you are currently doing isn’t sustainable or healthy.
So I am giving you the gift that my cast member once gave to me:
No one will give you a prize if you push yourself to the point of injury. You have one body, and is time to take care of it.