The Space In Between

There’s a space I’m learning to name.

It’s the space in between.

Between two surgeries.

Between recovery and readiness.

Between the body I’ve known and the one that is still forming.

Between what I need to feel and what I long to create.

Right now, I live in that space.

This summer, I find myself suspended between a mastectomy and upcoming autologous reconstruction surgery. It’s a time defined by waiting, healing, recalibrating. But just as I began to settle into this holding pattern, the rhythm shifts: the deadline is approaching for an opportunity to present work in an exhibition alongside my husband, Frank.

This is the first time I’m sharing a piece that I’ve written, choreographed, and directed. It’s more than a highlight. It’s a lifeline. A pulse. A gentle anchor in a moment when everything else feels untethered.

But this dual reality of needing to heal and needing to express—isn’t easy. My body requires rest. My spirit demands expression. The tension between those truths is real.

I often ask myself:

Can I be present in both experiences?

What does creative output look like when my physical capacity is reduced?

How do I honour this transformation, not just physically, but emotionally, artistically, and spiritually?

In the past, my creativity was about output. Now, it’s about slowing down. Letting stories emerge at their own pace. The exhibition is not just a distraction, it’s a companion on the road to healing. 

There is grief in the space in between. There is beauty. There is truth.

And I’m learning to hold all of it.