I remember myself as a child, glued to the TV whenever ballroom dance competitions came on. Back then, there was no internet and no YouTube. We had one television at home, and those moments when dance competitions were broadcast weren’t frequent. Still, I remember watching them.

To me, female competitive dancers were the embodiment of the ideal woman. I was captivated by their physical form, their strength, and at the same time their femininity.

Of all the dances, I always waited for pasodoble the most. For me, it was the high point. A pasodoble danced to “España Cañí” became my dream — that one day I would be able to dance it myself. Last summer, I made that dream real. The feeling that came over me when I danced it is impossible to put into words. It was one of the high points of my life. Moving. Powerful.

 

 

 

 

 

Why it speaks to me so deeply

I am a huge sports fan, even a bit of a sports addict. And yet, many sports don’t speak to me at all. I am someone who appreciates aesthetic beauty, and beauty inspires me. Competitive dancers, in my eyes, are incredibly beautiful women — strong enough, yet still feminine.

What also draws me in is the fact that mastering proper technique is an enormous challenge. You could call it a masterclass in body control. I had no idea how difficult it can be to execute even one or two steps correctly until I began training under Martin Parmas.

A spectator may not understand just how many fine details make up every step. Different parts of the body move in different directions. Martin often tells me that I have to be like a Rubik’s Cube — the upper body and the lower body turning in different directions at the same time. Add to that the positions of the arms and legs, turnout, posture, turns on straight knees. At times, the challenge feels wild.

It’s not about being able to “dance and enjoy it.” It’s about doing it the way professionals do.

Honestly, I would have never believed it could be this hard. But that difficulty has motivated me more than anything. I don’t plan to give up.

 

 

 

 

 

What dance does to me

Dance is therapy for me. When I dance, I forget even the biggest worries. The times we live in are demanding, and sometimes pressure wants to break you — but during dance training, my mind rests.

The combinations are so complex that my brain sometimes feels like it’s literally burning. In the beginning, I couldn’t even do turns. Watching it, it looks simple — but when you try, you can’t even understand where to step.

For me, dance training is like an antidepressant is for some people. After class, I’m in a completely different mental state. I feel the tension dissolve. I can dream again, set goals, create. Some of my best ideas come right after dance practice. That’s when I feel capable of anything — as if nothing can break me.

Music plays a massive role in all of this. I grew up surrounded by music — there are several classical musicians in my family, and I studied piano myself for ten years. I love different genres, but classical music has a special place in my heart. Sometimes I disappear into my favorite operas or listen to piano concertos.

In dance, I perform so much better when the music supports me. If the background track doesn’t speak to me, my cha-cha-cha will be worse too. Music has power for me. Good music is pure pleasure.

 

 

 

 

 

What it means to train under Martin Parmas

I always want to work with the best people in their field — and the most demanding ones. I set very high standards for myself, and I need a coach who believes in my ability and trains me like a professional, not someone who simply wants to “spin around” with a partner.

Sometimes our sessions are like this: we don’t even get to play the music. We work purely on technique. To some, that might seem boring, but I know that without a foundation, there is no result.

I am a complete beginner. I don’t know how to step correctly or turn correctly. There is a lot of work to do with posture too. But this process is exactly what matters to me.

 

What motivates me

I am motivated by progress — by becoming better, more capable, learning something new.

But my deepest motivation comes from that childhood dream. I have decided to bring my dreams to life now, not “someday.” I don’t leave what matters to me for another life.

Something has to truly pull me. The fact that something is new isn’t enough. But if I feel that inner pull, I go all the way.

If you want results, you have to write the activity into your schedule. I practice steps even in the living room, while cooking. You have to be smart about it.

We all have wasted time in our days too — endless scrolling on the phone, for example. If you truly want something, you have to invest. Manifesting alone is not enough. Thoughts have power, but execution has to follow.

 

What’s next

I would love to test my skills in a competition or in front of an audience. That would add real adrenaline. Performing in a field that is new and unfamiliar is a huge challenge — but overcoming that fear is personal growth.

“I have decided to bring my dreams to life now, not “someday.” I
don’t leave what matters to me for another life.”