Taken from Issue 001 of The Irish Dance Globe. Purchase any remaining copies here while stocks last.
This article contains references to mental health issues, eating disorders, and suicidal ideation which some readers may find upsetting.
I found my passion for life in Irish dancing when I was 10 years old. I was in love from day one — dancing in the grocery store aisles and showcasing my steps to just about anyone who would watch.
It became an obsession that quickly took over my life. My home life was a bit rocky growing up, so I found refuge in going to dance class every week to escape the real world. On top of what was going on at home, I struggled in school and maintaining friendships, so I was constantly looking outward for something to fill the void that I felt was missing in my everyday life.
This ended up in an adult diagnosis of ADHD in 2023. With ADHD comes hyperfixation tendencies, so dance was my main focus for the majority of my life. It was something I could control at first, but as I started to compete more and progress into the bigger competitions, I realised how taxing the daily effort was to maintain the level I was at. I started to control my food intake which resulted in orthorexic eating — an obsession with eating “pure” foods. I was also working out two to three times a day, dancing in the studio all hours of the night, and spending hours crying about how I still wasn’t good enough. This extreme mindset went on for a couple of years leading up to 2019, where I hit my breaking point.
Off the back of one of my most successful competitive dancing years, the realisation hit me after the high wore off that I would have to maintain this status and possibly do even more than I was already doing. Frankly, I was exhausted, and I couldn’t fathom continuing on this way. So I took a step back and lightened my training load by going to fewer classes, eating whatever I wanted, and not continuing in the gym anymore.
Fast forward a couple months later to the 2019 Greensboro Worlds — where CLRG implemented the new two-day format — I didn’t recall to day two after being sixth overall the year before in Glasgow. I was devastated. At the time, it felt like proof that I wasn’t good enough unless I was pushing myself to exhaustion every single day.
So much was going on behind the scenes in my personal life that it felt like if I wasn’t perfect at dance, then I had nothing to live for. I was so worried about how I was going to be perceived that I couldn’t focus on anything else.
“I was constantly looking outward for something to fill the void that I felt was missing”
Megan Daly
Looking back now, I realise just how toxic my mindset was regarding the situation. But when you’re so deep in it and have lost yourself, it feels as if nothing else matters. When you have a chemical imbalance in your brain your mind can tell you things that aren’t true, but it happens so often that you start to believe it. I was drowning. So I quit dance, isolated myself completely, and planned to take my life.
It’s scary to think I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for a dear friend of mine who reached out randomly one day to ask how I was doing. It was like she snapped her fingers in front of me and woke me up from the trance I was in. The realisation hit me and I burst into tears. I didn’t want to die. I just needed help, and I couldn’t do it all alone.
I am currently working through everything in therapy, and considering pursuing medication to increase my quality of life. Every day is a journey to be my best self and I am so grateful that I am choosing to work at it day by day and have immense support from those around me.
Taking a step back from competitions made me realise how much more life had to offer — how dancing could be more than a placement number, and rather a freedom of creative expression and pure love. I understood that I could find joy in other aspects of my life, too. I just had to look.
The enormous pressure to be successful coming from no one other than myself was an attempt to try and make up for my lack of confidence in other aspects of my life, but I just needed to understand that not everyone’s path is the same, and that’s okay. It’s okay to ask for help and confide in others, and that doesn’t make you weak.
“Taking a step back from competitions made me realise how much more life had to offer”
Megan Daly
Through this experience I have become more cognisant of just how important mental training is alongside the physical aspect. For many years in my Irish dance career, mental health was something people mostly kept quiet about. But now, as our society has worked to destigmatise mental health, our sport has also grasped its importance. Fortunately, there’s now many more resources out there that help dancers to focus on their mental training and wellbeing — from mindset coaches to therapeutic exercises to wellness apps.
Despite the challenges I faced, I wouldn’t change my story in any way, because I am now, at 31 years old, aware of the struggle firsthand, which means I’m better equipped to support those I meet along the way. Irish dancing is a hobby, and should be fun first and foremost. But the competitive nature of our sport means it is easy to lose sight of that. Try not to sweat the small things, and remember to strive to love every second of this amazing sport you have dedicated your life to.
If you’re struggling, please reach out to the Samaritans on 116 123 or find support at Befrienders Worldwide.
