dose of perspective

Share Your Story Series: Keeping a grip on reality, changing perspective, and prioritizing yourself– getting the help and taking the time that you need.

“I realized that losing yourself because of “losing” your sport isn’t real. There’s always more to lose, and there’s always more to life. One day, you’re frustrated because you can’t nail a pirouette, and one day, you’re frustrated because you need help putting on socks. And one day, you’re ecstatic because you made the dance team, and one day, you’re on top of the world because you can walk again."

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My name is Frida Dornier & This is my story

Munich, Germany | Former Professional Dancer

A moment I’ll never forget: around the age of 7 or 8, at my friend Niusha’s house– that’s when I saw the movie Step Up for the very first time. I think every dancer knows and loves that movie. Funny enough, that was what inspired me to start dancing. Only a week after watching that film I enrolled in my first hip-hop class, and I loved every second of it.

By ninth grade, I started taking dance more seriously and dreamed of making it my career. People told me it was impossible—that I had the wrong body type and had started too late. But for once, I didn’t care what others thought. I auditioned for a show group, got accepted, and spent some of the best years of my life dancing.

I made incredible friends, discovered my passion for different dance styles, and progressed to a level I never thought possible. But when high school ended, I started questioning my future. I had a small interest in medicine, but my grades weren’t good enough for med school, and honestly, I lacked the confidence to even try. In dance, I was cocky—maybe even arrogant—but outside of it, I had no confidence at all. I saw myself as nothing but an athlete, so I shut out everything else.

After graduation, my coach asked if I wanted to work for the dance company and teach classes. I was excited at first, but soon, I was teaching two to three classes a day and attending three more of my own, every single day. I was exhausted and no longer progressing. Instead of slowing down, I pushed myself harder. Soon, I had shin splints, tendonitis in my knees and ankles, and a nagging pain in my hip that wouldn’t go away. I was constantly sick—something I had rarely experienced before.

Taking a break wasn’t an option. I had signed a contract, and if I stopped, I would have lost my job and my spot in the show group. But even if I could have taken time off, I probably wouldn’t have. The injuries seemed minor. It was just a sore hip, right? Turns out, it wasn’t—and I regret my choices more than ever.

I started to hate dance. Anxiety and fear replaced passion, yet the fear of quitting was greater than the fear of staying in my uncomfortable “comfort zone.” I think a lot of athletes know what I mean by that.

Then, during a video shoot, I pushed myself too far. I danced for hours on an empty stomach, and as soon as I got home, I was violently sick. My dad saw me and started yelling, asking what the hell I was doing to my body. That’s when I knew something had to change.

I called my dance school and told them I was done. What followed were weeks of depression and self-doubt. People who used to ask about my latest dance projects now asked, “What?! How could you quit? Dance was all you ever did. What are you going to do now?” And when I didn’t have the answer, that’s when I realized my passion had become my whole identity. When you start losing your passion, you start losing yourself.

I knew I had dug myself into a hole, but I couldn’t stay there—especially not in my 20s. These are supposed to be the best years of my life. I was lucky to find a new job I truly enjoy. One of my dad’s best friends is a surgeon, and since that 1% of me still cared about medicine, I asked if I could intern at his practice. Turns out, I love every second of it. Now, I work there as an assistant. Shoutout to him and the whole team!

Everything improved—my mental health, my energy levels—everything except my hip. What I thought was overworked muscles turned out to be a hip impingement, cartilage and labrum damage, and borderline dysplasia. I tried conservative treatments for a long time, but they weren’t enough.

Six weeks ago, I had surgery to repair the damage. Recovery has been anything but easy. My biggest support has been my mom, who has endured worse injuries and is one of the few people in my family who truly understands. She’s been honest with me, as have my doctors and PT.

I may never dance again, at least not without a high risk of re-injury. While I’ve said goodbye to a professional career, it still stings to think that the door to dance may be permanently closed. I hate the thought of leaving my sport on bad terms—hating it instead of cherishing it. But my PT reminded me, “It’s not worth overthinking things that don’t matter at this moment. You’re months away from a short run, and you’re thinking about dance. Focus on recovery. The time to decide if you want to dance again isn’t now.”

My mom put it even more bluntly: “What is dance worth if you can’t walk? I can’t walk for more than 20 minutes because of my hip, and mine can’t be fixed. But yours is young and healing. Focus on what your body can do, not what it can’t.”

Today, for the first time, I walked outside without crutches and even did my own grocery shopping. I was so grateful to do it with minimal pain.

I realized that losing yourself because of “losing” your sport isn’t real. There’s always more to lose, and there’s always more to life. One day, you’re frustrated because you can’t nail a pirouette, and one day, you’re frustrated because you need help putting on socks. And one day, you’re ecstatic because you made the dance team, and one day, you’re on top of the world because you can walk again.

It’s all about perspective. That doesn’t mean I don’t struggle—I do. But the struggle has to be worth it.

To every athlete, amateur or professional: If you’re struggling, speak up. If you’re tired, take a break. If you’re injured, take time to heal. I regret not doing so sooner. 

P.S. if you are down, pick one songs that lifts you up and turn that sh*t up! I wrote this listening to Heroes by David Bowie: “I will be king“