I believe that in order to fly, we must first fall flat on our faces and get back up again.

To jeté through the choppy ocean waves known as life with my head held high. This is a mantra that I live by every day. When my parents got divorced five years ago, the process was brutal on all of us, but mostly me, because I was the oldest child and therefore the only one who actually understood what was happening. “I’m moving to California” my father said. I was sitting in the car with my siblings, on the way to spend a weekend in the city with my father. He took a deep breath and said, “I’m moving for three months to look for a job.” My heart sank, because I knew from his facial expression that it wasn't just for three months, it was forever. I knew I’d only be seeing my father few times a year, but I put on a facade for my two younger siblings as if it were okay and said, “That’s so cool, dad!”

To jeté through the choppy ocean waves known as life with my head held high. I ran into my room and slammed the door shut behind me. It felt like the air was escaping from my lungs. All I wanted to do was crawl under my bed and never be found. All I wanted to do was be anyone but me. I cried, saying the same things to myself, over and over again, but saying these things didn't change the fact that it was reality. There was no escaping the reality of what was going on in my life, but I did have a way to cope with it. Theater and dance allowed me to be someone else than Maya. I could be someone who had a normal family, and a normal life; one that was nothing like mine.

To jeté through the choppy ocean waves known as life with my head held high. I looked at the clock and realized it was almost time for acting class, and I still didn’t have a solo song. I went into the basement and started belting “In My Own Little Corner” from Cinderella and “Defying Gravity” from Wicked. In class later, my teacher said they were the best songs I’d ever sung. Maybe it was because I could really relate to the songs, maybe it was because I wasn't going out of my range. To be honest, I never really figured it out. What I did figure out was that for one to be able to “Defy Gravity” we must first defy our inner demons. That voice in the back of our heads telling us that we aren’t good enough. To do a perfect pirouette, we must first succumb to the gravity that can bring us crashing down to earth.

To jeté through the choppy ocean waves known as life with my head held high. I believe that in order to fly, we must first fall flat on our faces and get back up again.