The dark side of the gold medal - what we don't talk about in recordings
Standing on the podium with the world champion title, I felt immense pride, but few people know what was going on in my head just a few weeks earlier. My daily life isn't just the spectacular shows you see on the internet or four "yes" votes from judges on a popular TV show. It's primarily hours spent in the studio, liters of sweat poured, and moments when the only thing I dream of is taking off my dance shoes and never putting them on again. As a sixteen-year-old, I have to combine school studies with professional sports, which can be exhausting beyond my strength. A crisis in dance is a taboo subject that is rarely mentioned, because after all, I should always be smiling and ready to fight.
The truth is that every athlete, even at the highest level, has days when dance stops bringing joy. It's that feeling when music that used to give you chills suddenly becomes just a background for mechanical repetition of movements. You feel then that your body is heavy and your head is full of doubts. Does what I'm doing make sense? Can I meet the expectations of my coach, parents, and thousands of people following me? The pressure of results can be paralyzing, especially when every time you step on stage, you are judged and compared to previous successes. In such moments, it's easy to forget why you even started dancing as a three-year-old.
For me, dance is my whole life, but life is not just a series of successes. It's also learning how to deal with failures and one's own weaknesses. When burnout hits me, I try to remember that little girl whose grandmother took her to ballet. She didn't think about trophies or how many people would like her video online. She just loved to move. Finding that primal joy in the thick of duties and ambitions is the greatest challenge a professional dancer of my age faces. I want to show you that being a champion is also the ability to admit that sometimes it's just hard.
When the body says stop - a lesson in humility and fighting pain
One of the most difficult moments in my career was preparing for European competitions while struggling with a strained Achilles tendon. Every step was a challenge, and every attempt to perform a stronger hit in my dance style caused me physical pain. This was a time when my psyche was put to the ultimate test. I knew I had to train to maintain my level, but my body was screaming that it needed rest. That's when I realized how thin the line is between determination and self-destruction. The injury forced me to stop and re-evaluate everything I knew about sports until then.
Instead of giving in to despair, I decided to focus on what I could do despite the limitations. I started analyzing others' dancing, learning the theoretical aspects of rhythmics, and working on muscle control in a way that didn't strain my leg. This time showed me that dance is primarily mental work. When I couldn't jump, I learned how to convey energy with just a look and precise hand movements. This experience built my mental resilience, which proved crucial during later world championship battles. I understood that obstacles are not there to stop us, but to strengthen us and teach us to look for new solutions.
You often ask me how I manage to maintain such discipline. The answer is simple - I don't always manage. There are mornings when I cry from helplessness because the pain returns, or when I simply run out of breath. The key, however, is not to let those moments take control of our dreams. Fighting an injury taught me to listen to my own body. Today I know that sometimes one day off for recovery is worth more than ten hours of grueling, forced training. Self-care is not a sign of weakness, but of maturity that every young dancer must learn if they want to stay in this sport for years.
Peer pressure vs. the pure joy of improvised dance
TV appearances and international successes meant that suddenly many people's eyes were on me. I heard many compliments - that what I do is unreal, that I have incredible control and energy. While very nice, it carries a huge weight of responsibility. You start to feel that you cannot fail. Every subsequent video must be better than the last, every battle won, and every training session perfect. This constant pursuit of perfection can kill creativity and make dance a mechanical reproduction of learned patterns rather than a form of self-expression.
To regain my passion, I had to go back to my roots, which is improvised dance. In my dance studio, Soulab, I found a space where I can just be Wiktoria, not just a double world champion. There, among stronger dancers, I learn humility and draw inspiration from their energy. When I feel the pressure overwhelming me, I turn off my phone, play my favorite music, and just move. Without any plan, without thinking about technique, without recording. This is the moment when I regain my power. Free dance allows me to release all my emotions - anger, sadness, but also immense joy that cannot be scripted.
The modern world requires us to be products that always look good on social media. But we, dancers, are primarily artists. Our art is born inside, in the heart, not in the statistics of likes under a post. If you feel you are losing joy, try dancing in the dark, just for yourself. Remember what it's like not to be judged. It is in those moments, when no one is watching, that the most magical things happen. Finding your own rhythm outside the spotlight is the best remedy for burnout and competition-related stress.
How to regain the desire to train? My proven methods
When a crisis hits me, I use several proven methods that help me get back on track. First, I change my environment. Sometimes going to a workshop in another city or simply training in a different place than usual can work wonders. The new energy of other people and a different perspective on movement open my mind to new ideas. Second, I give myself the right to be weak. Accepting that not every day has to be a victory takes a huge weight off me. I tell myself: today I'll just do a warm-up and see what happens. Often after ten minutes, the desire to dance returns on its own, but if not - I don't beat myself up over it.
Another important step is returning to music that I don't associate with competitions. I listen to various genres, from old jazz to modern electronics, and look for new sounds in them that I haven't heard before. This develops my musicality and makes me want to interpret sounds with my body again. Teaching classes to others also helps me a lot. When I see the sparkle in my students' eyes when they manage to master a new element, I remember why all this is so important. Their enthusiasm is contagious, and often they are the ones who give me the strength to continue working on myself.
It's also worth finding a hobby completely unrelated to dance. For me, it's moments spent with family and friends when we don't talk about scores or upcoming trips. Allowing myself to be an ordinary teenager is key to maintaining mental balance. Dance should be a part of life, not the whole life that overwhelms us. If you have a passion, nurture it, but don't let it become your prison. Breath and distance are the best allies on the road to mastery, which we often forget in the pursuit of more trophies.
Support from loved ones and the role of community in difficult times
I wouldn't have achieved anything without the people who stand firmly behind me. My family, and especially my grandmother, who was the first to notice my potential, are my greatest support. They are there for me when I come back from training tired and discouraged. Support from loved ones isn't just congratulations after a win, but primarily being present on those days when nothing goes right. Knowing that I am loved regardless of whether I take first or last place gives me a huge sense of security. It is the foundation on which I build my self-confidence on stage and in everyday life.
The dance community is equally important. At Soulab, we create a family that supports each other. When I see that other dancers also have bad days, I feel that I'm not alone in this. Talking about our fears and problems helps us all grow. Together we look for solutions, exchange experiences, and motivate each other to act. Dance is an individual sport, but success is built as a team. Surrounding yourself with people who have similar goals and values makes even the hardest training bearable. Don't be afraid to ask for help and share your doubts - it builds real bonds.
Finally, I want to tell you one thing - don't give up when it's hard. A crisis is just a stop, not the end of the road. Every moment of doubt is an opportunity to get to know yourself better and come back stronger. Remember that even the greatest champions had moments when they wanted to quit. What sets them apart is the fact that despite fear and fatigue, they decided to take one more step. Your path is unique and only you have the right to decide its pace. Enjoy the process, look for inspiration in small things, and never lose faith in your own abilities. Dance is always waiting for you, with all its magic and energy.
Frequently Asked Questions
How to deal with a lack of progress in dance?
A lack of visible progress, or a so-called plateau, is a natural stage in every dancer's development. In such a situation, it's worth changing your training routine, trying a different dance style, or focusing on the basics that we often neglect. Remember that development often happens in leaps - after a period of stagnation, a sudden breakthrough usually comes, so the key is patience and regularity.
What to do when I feel immense stress before a competition?
Performance stress is a sign that you care about what you do. To manage it, use breathing techniques and visualization of your successful performance. Focus on the music and what you want to convey with your dance, instead of thinking about the judges' scores. Remember that the stage is a place for your expression, not just a field for competition.
Can a break from training help in regaining passion?
Yes, a short recovery break can be beneficial for both the body and the mind. Rest allows muscles to regenerate and clears the head of excessive expectations. Often after a few days away from dance, the longing for movement returns on its own, and you return to the studio with fresh ideas and a new supply of energy to act.
How to deal with criticism from other dancers or judges?
Treat constructive criticism as a free lesson and a guide for further work, not as a personal attack. Draw conclusions from comments that can help you grow, but distance yourself from hate that brings nothing of value. The most important thing is how you evaluate your own progress and whether you feel satisfaction with the work you've put in.