[In case you want to skip this long explanation of my experience, I have written it in italics, so you can just jump into the main topic which is written in normal letters. Still, I ask you to read it because I think that seeing that someone has gone through the same experience as you is comforting.]

I've been dancing ever since I was a little girl. Music has always been a big part of my life. There are tens of home videos of me dancing in my family's living room with my little sister.

Once I got to school, maybe 3rd grade, I started dancing as a hobby. So, I'd have dance lessons a few times a week. Growing up I did street dance, show dance and hip hop. It wasn't anything competitive or very continuous - I went to courses when I had the chance and there could be a year or so that I didn't go and then started again.

But even if I wasn't on courses, I would dance at home and in my free time. My sister had a little dance group with her friends so I used to dance with them and we used to create choreographies together. I used to also spend time looking for tutorials for random things like finger tutting and popping.

As I got to my teenage years I danced less and less. There would be a few times once in a while that I looked up dance tutorials on YouTube and learned a couple choreographies. I stopped doing that as well, but I've never stopped jamming at home and dancing for fun. I've danced to the latest dance crazes and learned to do the happy feet for example.

To say the least, I LOVE dancing and listening to music.

So once I heard of a free dance class at my school, I was interested. I signed up, packed my stuff the next day and headed for an 8pm class with butterflies in my stomach. It had been years since I had last been to a class - what if I don't even remember how to dance?

And that's exactly what happened. I was as lost as one could be. Everyone else followed the instructions and got the moves while I kept stumbling and almost knocked myself over. I was mortified to say the least. I started thinking to myself, "Have I ever even danced? What's wrong with me?" I was so embarrassed and regretted ever thinking I could dance. At one point I was fighting the will to just run to grab my stuff and walk out. I was so disappointed.

To make matters worse, I was so nervous and anxious that I accidentally drank from someone's water bottle and I went to the boys' changing room because I wasn't thinking straight (thankfully my instructor just had his jacket in there and I just grabbed my stuff so nothing truly awkward happened). Needless to say, on the way back home I wanted God to strike me dead right there. Or the earth to open up and swallow me. Why not both, even.

I went through feelings of shame, embarrassment, anxiety of what the others thought of me and I wanted to cry. I felt like a complete idiot. I vowed to never go back to that class.

Mind you, all this happened last night

But yesterday I sat down and thought to myself, what if you just quit every single time you failed? Who would you be?

Now, you think about who you would be if you stopped trying because you didn't get it right on the first try.

Do you remember how you learned to ride a bike? You probably got on, pedaled a few times and lost control and fell off. But you got back up on that saddle and repeated it again and again and again until you finally figured it out and proudly rode around your neighbourhood with a gleaming smile on your face. The feeling of getting it, the speed and the wind on your face was such a happy moment. Do you remember?

Or how about something like solving a problem in math? You write down the formula and start solving. You write and write and the more you write it seems the more distorted the whole problem gets. You get frustrated and furiously erase away your mistakes and go at it again. The page is worn out and almost torn from all the erasing. You sit there with your brows furrowed until a light bulb finally lights up above your head and you write down the answer. Now it seems almost stupid that you got so worked up over a math problem.

I could go on and on with these analogies, but bottom line is, that you did not quit. Was it hard? Yes. Was it frustrating? Even more so. Did it seem easier to just give up and move on? Hell yes. But you didn't. You rode that bike. You solved that problem. You learned those piano notes. You learned to do that handstand or somersault.

When we face challenges, we are put in an integral situation in our lives. We can either choose to take on the task, or we can continue to not progress into anyone or anything. You have the choice.

I've learned that I have a choice too. I can either quit now and keep dancing in my bedroom for my posters, or I could challenge myself and evolve into a great dancer instead of an OK one. And I've promised myself that I won't quit. I believe in myself and I believe in my talents. I know that if I really want it, I'll go and get it.

You should too.

Regardless of whatever is on your mind right now, whatever challenge you are afraid to face, I want you to get up and face it.

Don't run from challenges, run over them. That's the only way you will ever grow.