“I’m Retired”: Two Words That Changed Everything

“So what do you do?”

Ever since COVID hit, this question has thrown my brain into a tizzy and stomach into knots.

My inner dialogue goes something like this: “Say professional dancer!! No no no… freelance SEO expert, writer, and content creator. Nah come on. Don’t fluff yourself up…. Oh I got it I got it! TRANSITIONAL PHASE! Yeah! That’s respectable. Just getting by while dance is on pause. Year of the pivot. You’ll get a sympathetic nod with no more questions!”

The brain to mouth final product depends on the day.

Last week something popped out of my mouth that sparked a revolution in my brain. I was outside of Eataly in Flatiron grooving on the sidewalk with coworkers for an app promotion. An impossibly small, frail man was curled up in the middle of the sidewalk with a sign that read, “I might as well not exist.” I commiserated with him as New Yorkers shoved on by without sparing a glance.

The air smelled like rain and the sky was dark. I could have laughed or cried, so I opted to laugh.

In a down moment, the ever dreaded question was asked, “So what do you do?”

“I’m retired” spewed out my mouth before my brain had time to kick into action.

It felt like I dropped a backpack full of bricks off my shoulders and all across 5^th avenue.

When COVID hit, my paused dance career left a gaping hole in my life. I furiously tried to fill it by reshaping my odd jobs and lifestyle into something “meaningful” and “fulfilling.”  It was like I was trying to cram a square peg into a round hole. I’ll teach people about the gig economy. Write a book. Become a freelance travel writer. Food influencer. Personal trainer. But no matter how much brute force I used, the peg just didn’t fit. I didn’t feel fulfilled, and all the half finished projects strewn across my desktop made me feel inept, lazy, and frustrated. Why couldn’t I finish what I started?

I wasn’t ready to end my dance career.

It’s not because I wanted to reenter the grind-audition-contract cycle again— before COVID hit I was beginning to feel ready to move on. It’s because letting go of dance would be like letting go of “Katie.”  

Dance has been my sole driver and motivator since I declared it as my major 11 years ago. It hasn’t just been a passion; it’s been my whole identity. Performers have a unique relationship with our career. Suzie who works in accounting is just Suzie when she clocks out. Performers, on the other hand, have their craft pulsing through their blood well after the curtain closes. It’s not merely a job. It’s an essence of our being.

During a time when it felt like the whole world was crumbling, saying goodbye to the thing that made me “me” didn’t seem like an option.

Dance was like one of those, “it’s complicated” relationships. I was dating around with other career suitors, but I couldn’t fully commit. If dance came knocking at 2am, there’s no question that I would answer. How could I fully dive into the next phase when I hadn’t put a period on the last?

Back to the Streets of New York…

“I’m retired.”

Anxiety, frustration, and tension melted out of my body as those two words left my lips. I had finally given myself permission to close the door and move on. The cathartic release was overwhelming.

Here’s what my retirement looks like.

 I’m still working, I’m only 29 years old after all. But for the first time in my life, I’m not pursuing a career. I’m not trying to devise some complex equation that forces all of my odd jobs to add up to something “meaningful” and “important” simply for the sake of “doing something” that I think will make people see me as “successful.”

There’s a tremendous pressure from society to have a career and make a difference. Yet, our current model doesn’t allow us the time to actually figure out what we like—go to college, declare a major, immediately get a job, work your way up in said job, retire, die. Sprinkle in house, family, car, occasional trip to Europe in there.

Where’s the time for exploration and discovery?

Gap years before college are common in Europe and Australia, and they can be incredibly beneficial. Not only is the idea of taking a year off less accepted in the United States, but careers like dance require rigorous training and have a time limit. Taking a year off at 18 years old would likely be a death sentence to any future career.   

I’m finally giving myself space and time to figure out what makes me happy and what I actually want to do rather than I think I should do. I plan on traveling, exploring, writing, dancing, and creating with the intention of pleasure, joy, and discovery, not a paycheck or approval from my peers or social media. From there, I can start building my next career from an authentic place.

I have retired from dance on my own terms, and I feel completely at peace with it.

Dance will always be a part of me, but now I am allowing myself the time and space to discover and cultivate other passions. “I” am no longer my career. And it feels amazing.