A girl with a secret dream.

Hannah was one of the first people I met on the island. It took us a little while to get to know each other (I was still feeling pretty hermit-ey when we first met) but within a couple of months we’d bonded over a shared love of dance and lolcats, and the fact that she is the sweetest, kindest, goofiest, loveliest person ever. (Can you tell I’m a fan?)

When one of my favourite ballet companies came to PEI, she was the first person I thought of to come with me. While sitting in the audience waiting for the show to start, I asked her why she’d stopped dancing. She was so passionate about it, and so excited to see the ballet, I just couldn’t understand why she would have ever stopped. I knew she’d moved here from Arizona, so I wondered if it was the move that had caused it.

What she told me, as tears streamed down her face, shocked me and very nearly broke my heart. (More on that in a bit. Keep reading.) Then she explained that even though she wanted to dance again now, she was a student and definitely didn’t have the extra money for expensive things like ballet classes.

I knew I had to do something to help. Dancing was her dream. I couldn’t just stand there and let it drift away from her, knowing I could do something about it.

So I promised her that if she found dance classes for September, I would raise the money to pay for them.

And that’s what we’re doing here today.

First though, I want to share her story.

Hannah has very courageously written about her story in the hopes that by sharing what happened, she might be able to help someone else. (Didn’t I tell you she was wonderful?):

I started dancing when I was five years old. At first it was something that I shared with my mom. We danced at the same studio and did the Nutcracker together every single year. She did my hair and my stage makeup and reminded me that I was beautiful every chance she got. Even if I fell or forgot my placing, she told me that I danced marvellously.

She stopped dancing when she got sick again. I say “again” because she’s been an on and off drug addict for the majority of her adult life. So then I stopped, too.

When I was ten, I joined a competitive dance team. I asked my parents to sign me up for as many classes as possible – and they did. My skills quickly progressed and I made so many friends with the same passion as mine. I danced all year round and performed in countless recitals.

When I was almost fourteen, my mom accompanied me to a dance tournament/workshop in Las Vegas. On the one hand, I was so excited for my mother to be there with me – to cheer me on and maybe even do my stage makeup like old times – but on the other hand, I was scared and embarrassed of her. She was using again and the whole team knew it.

The first sign of trouble was when my teammates and I were getting ready. They all had their moms with them, crimping their hair and fixing the holes in their tights. But I couldn’t find my mom. I was about to go on stage to perform dances that had been rehearsed meticulously for months – in front of some pretty tough judges – and I couldn’t find my mom.

I don’t really remember what I thought at the time. Maybe I thought that she was just passed out in the hotel room which, in retrospect, would have been worlds better. Regardless of the situation, I danced my heart out and the judges must have noticed. One of our dances got second place and beat out some of the most prestigious schools in the country. I was so happy that I was brought to tears. I couldn’t wait to show my mom my medal. Until I saw her.

After the award ceremony was over, my mom was waiting for me offstage. She grabbed my arm and angrily said, “We’re not doing THIS again. YOU’RE never DANCING again. You’re DONE.”

I tried to hold it together in front of my teammates. “Mom, didn’t you see? We won! We placed second!”

“No you didn’t,” she growled, “Don’t lie to me. You’re finished.”

As she stormed off, a friend of mine grabbed my arm and walked around with me to try and calm me down. She assured me that there was no way my mom was going to make me stop dancing. She’s just tired, she said. But she wasn’t tired. She was drunk and angry as hell. At me. Through my tears, I caught my mom glaring at me from the other side of the room, shaking her head. I could tell she was only getting angrier for the things she must have imagined I was telling my teammates. Soon we were driven home by a teammate and her mother.

At this point, all I can remember is my mother screaming at me and smacking me in front of my friend and her mom. When we were dropped off at our hotel, my friend’s mom hugged my mom and said, “Go easy on her, okay?” That’s it? I thought. Go easy on her? You’re not going to help me? I knew that, that night, I was going to be in a lot of trouble.

When we got back to the hotel room, my mom through me on the bed and started beating me. She screamed that she hated me and how badly she wished she had never come here. When she was finished, she fell asleep for a long time. I don’t remember sleeping. All I remember is wishing someone, anyone, would call the police. My entire dance team knew about the state my mother was in and no one helped me. Nobody saved me from my mom.

I can barely even read that last sentence. It kills me. Nobody saved me from my mom. I wish I could turn back time and change everything for her.

But I can make a difference now. She deserves to start dancing again, and I will raise the money for her to do it—even if I have to hold a bake sale on my front lawn.

All of us have those secret (or not-so-secret) dreams. Some of us act on them, some of us don’t. Some people look back and wish they had. I really believe that all of us have the right to follow our dreams and our passions, but it can be hard, especially when no one believes in us.

I want to show Hannah that someone believes in her, and that someone supports her. I want to show her that life doesn’t have to be this thing where you work at a job you hate, and then you die.

I want to show her that there’s more, and I would really love it if you could help me do that.

Here’s how you can help

Option #1:

Some of you may remember my painting, “Ballet Shoes.” It’s been sold for years, and is no longer on the site, but I can make prints of it. (I know some of you have been wanting that!)

The print will be a signed 11”x14” (with border, size is 13”x16”) archival giclee print on Hahnemeule William Turner watercolor paper (trust me when I say, it’s delicious). It is archival, it is top quality, and if well taken care of, will last up t0 100 years. Yes, it costs more than a poster but that’s because it is so much more than a poster.

The print retails for $120 USD + $20 shipping anywhere in the world.

Buy from Sarah’s art site.

Option #2:

If you want to help, but can’t afford (or for you men out there, don’t want) a print, donations are super welcome. Seriously, even $5 will make a difference.

And if you did want the print, just let me know in the “Special Message to Seller” section of Paypal, and I’ll email you a high resolution PDF so you can print it out at home.

Donate.

Option #3:

Dying to help, but your pockets are lined with love and not money? We will so take your love!

Tweet it up, share it on Facebook, tell your friends, tell your family, whatever you can do, we will love you for it.

Did you really want the print too? Email me telling me how you shared the love, and I’ll email you a high resolution PDF of the print as well, for your viewing pleasure at home.

Thank you.

Thank you even just for giving me your attention this long. I really appreciate it.

Every single cent raised over the cost of print production will go to Hannah to pay for the dance classes, dance clothes & shoes and costumes for the recital.

If you want to get in touch with Hannah, you can email her at klein_hannah [at] hotmail [dot] com.

Thank you so much, everyone. It’s amazing knowing that I have this awesome community of people to turn to when I really want to help out a friend.

You are too awesome for words.

Update: I probably should have posted this before, but completely blanked in my enthusiasm – we need to raise $1000 for Hannah to dance again. Might be a bit less, but I figure if we go over, she can just get super nice pointe shoes, yes?

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