The 6-Month Check-In: What Progress Really Looks Like

Reflecting back on this year's solo dance practice.

There’s something quietly game-changing I'm doing for myself lately — not once in a while, but week after week.

Six months ago, I started carving out time to revisit the most basic elements of my dancing.

Not in some dramatic “back to square one” kind of way — more like a quiet return.

A daily practice.

A soft commitment.

I started blocking off small pockets of time in my calendar. It didn’t seem like much — 30 minutes here, an hour there.

But it was time I had to really fight to keep locked.

On days when I was tired. When other commitments were piling up.

Even when I didn’t feel like I had anything new to give.

At first, it felt... ordinary. Unremarkable, even.

But looking back now? That small shift changed everything.

Making Room for the Basics

In a dance world that often celebrates complexity — patterns, tricks, styling — there’s something humbling about returning back to the basics.

In fact I think to truly progress, returning back to that should be a cyclic part of your journey.

For me, it was a handful of movements I’d done hundreds of times before: my side basic, my forward and back, mixed some foundational moves of a new style that I never previously had the chance to clean up. But all in all, the kind of steps you could do in your sleep.

However this time, I wasn’t dancing them for performance.

I was dancing them to listen.

To refine and gain a deeper understanding.

And over time, they stopped being “just the basics.”

They became my laboratory. My place to explore and rewire.

Creating that space — and putting it on my calendar like any other priority — was my first real challenge.

Not because I didn’t want to dance, but because life pulls at your time. It’s easy to treat personal practice like something you’ll “get around to.” But what I’ve learned is: unless you block time for it, it doesn’t happen.

So I made it non-negotiable. A promise to myself.

When Progress Feels Invisible

I can't tell you how many weeks I have walked into the studio, just to press record. To just dance through the movements and somehow still wonder why there's no flow from one to another.

The self-criticism crept in quietly: Why does this still feel awkward? Why can’t I see any change?

But here’s the gift I didn’t expect: the camera remembers what your self-doubt forgets.

This week as I looked back through the videos I saved, and started compiling a little recap, I was stunned.

Not by perfection — but by evolution.

Each week, something small had shifted. A more grounded step, the alignment from my hips. My posture standing taller. And my hands looking less stiff.

Things I hadn’t felt in the moment were clearly visible across time.

It reminded me that growth can be so very silent — happening underneath the surface, in the background, while you’re busy thinking nothing’s changing.

A Healthier Body, A Calmer Mind

Beyond the mechanics, I’ve noticed changes in how I feel in my body.

Especially in these last couple months, I'm valuing and prioritising regular stretching time. And being rewarded for it with the ability to breathe a little deeper as I dance. But beyond that, a lot of my shoulder and hip pain has been reduced.

My joints feel more supported.

My balance feels less effortful.

My overall cardio has improved without any fanfare — just from dancing more regularly, more intentionally.

But maybe the biggest shift is internal. I’m less frantic. Less obsessed with “fixing” things. There’s more curiosity now, more patience.

Beyond that, I'm a little bit more sure of myself. Not the kind you scream at the top of your lungs - but the kind that makes your eyes steady, and stand just a little taller than before.

We all have to realise, repetition isn’t punishment, but an invitation.

A chance to understand ourselves, and our steps more deeply.

Every familiar drill is an opportunity to notice something new.

And over time, those small touches of awareness stack up.

Reflecting, Even If You’re Not “There Yet”

We often wait to reflect until we feel like we’ve arrived — hit a goal, nailed a move, reached a level.

But I'm glad I took a second to reflect on my changes now, even if it feels half-cooked, incomplete. I feel like I can accept that there is work to be done, while simultaneously taking pride in myself for the work that has been done.

Looking back at my own journey, I see someone who kept showing up.

Who trusted that the slow work mattered.

Who didn’t wait to feel ready or inspired. Just consistent.

And because of that? The movement feels more like it's my own. Not borrowed. Not imitated. Integrated.

Where Are You Now?

If you’re in that stage where things feel messy or slow — maybe you’re drilling the same step for the 50th time, or wondering why your body still fights a move — I invite you to pause.

Not to stop practicing. But to reflect.

Pull out your old videos. Reread your notes. Listen to how your body feels today compared to a few months ago.

Because odds are, something has shifted — even if you haven’t noticed it yet.

Small, steady effort stacks up.

Even when it feels invisible.

Even when you doubt it.

Keep going.

You're already further than you think.

But if you're looking to keep going further, or need a helping hand along the way, that's okay too.

Let's talk about how I can help you do that.