I grew up with a schizophrenic mother and a father who suffered depression. I often was the sidekick to my mother delusions. That said, school was not easy for me. Let alone outside activity. I was locked in my house for a full year. After that only able to get out for school hours. When I turned 18 I left. When I was 22 I started dancing. It has been a long emotional journey for me. When I was 21 I lost my father. When I was 33 my mother passed away. It was when she passed away that I finally started to see a therapist. My world has been changing.

I am not as technically trained of a dancer as I would dream of being. But am I a dancer? Can I express? FUCK YES. 

I will continue to work and define what it means for me, in this world to be a dancer. I will continue to grow and shape my expression, making it readable, shareable and relatable.