Let me tell you a story. My story. It’s not too long and not too uncommon but it’s mine and I love it and I wouldn’t change it at all.

I came from an academic family, specifically engineers. We live in Haifa in Israel. My father pushed me and my older brother into a career path like his own. So when I went to engineering school it was no more than expected.

But if you had looked closely at me, even from the age of 4, you would have also expected what happened next. My parents didn’t.

What happened is I left engineering school. To become a dancer.

My first dance class was somewhat traumatic. One Tuesday when I was 4 my mother dressed me in a freezing cold spandex leotard, took mee to some weird place full of mirrors, left me with absolute strangers and said “have fun, pick you up in an hour”. I refused to “have fun”, I refused to dance. For many classes I sat in the corner and watched and my mother told the perplexed teacher “just wait”. One day the class started and instead of taking my usual place I joined the class. I fell in love.

I never missed a class. Always front and center at every end of year show. Passed all my exams. But when I finished elementary school I had the choice between the science program and art school. Can you guess which one my parents pushed for? How much of a choice did I really have then?

I wasn’t that unhappy with that choice. I actually really liked the school and I was good at the STEM subjects without much of an effort. I continued taking dance classes after school and it seemed like a good compromise.

At 18 I joined the army (as Israeli citizens are required by law) and became seriously depressed. I realized the main reason was I couldn’t dance. I missed it like a piece of me was torn out. As my depression worsened I was discharged early and immediately started dancing again. Even though I was entirely out of shape, even after just a year, I felt like I was home again.

This is when I enrolled in the Technion Institute in Haifa, Israel. My father went there, and my brother too. My mother worked there. Everything was planned since before I was born that I would be an engineer. But at least l had the choice of what kind. I chose mechanical engineering. And I actually loved it.

But…

Near the middle of my second term I had the Realization. I realized that for the rest of my life this is what I am going to do. I am going to sit in an office in front of a computer and work on things I couldn’t care less about. Which is fine for some people. For me it sounded like torture.

So I did what I always feared - disappointed my parents. They yelled at me and threatened to cut me off. I showed them I don’t care about money and stayed half the night in the street the other half at a friend’s house. And they gave in. Even agreed to finance my dance studies. They also had the Realization that this is what makes me happy.

The thing is I never had much of a training, only some classes a week, nothing compared to those who’s parents let them go to art school. For lack of better words, I sucked. Wasn’t accepted to any serious program. I was accepted to The Contemporary Dance Workshop in Haifa, but to be honest it’s harder to not be accepted. Doesn’t mean they don’t have excellent teachers who worked hard to make me a real dancer on a professional level.

Now I am in my second and final year and I am so much better than I was in the beginning of last. And happier. Much happier. I worked hard to pursue this dream and will keep working no matter what.

I don’t know what will happen next but I’m so excited to never do something because it is expected.