We recently connected with Dr. Meghan Gearhart, PT, DPT, MS, CMTPT and have shared our conversation below.
Dr. Meghan, we’re thrilled to have you on our platform and we think there is so much folks can learn from you and your story. Something that matters deeply to us is living a life and leading a career filled with purpose and so let’s start by chatting about how you found your purpose.
When I was younger, I was like most adolescent dancers – I was dedicated. I showed up early, took all the classes offered and assisted others, and said “yes” to every performance, master class, and convention offered. I was also top of my class at school, held office in multiple school clubs, worked a part-time job, and volunteered with several community groups. So, like many mothers of adolescent dancers, my mom was also dedicated – often as my personal Uber driver.
While I prided myself on my dedication to anything I set my mind to, the blind “I will push forward in the face of any challenge” mentality ended up stopping me in my tracks.
Throughout middle school and high school, I was plagued with on-again/off-again hip pain and several foot and ankle injuries. I played the game of pretending the pain wasn’t there because I was scared of what it meant – the biggest looming question being “Will I be replaced?” I became a pro at ignoring yellow – and sometimes red – flags. I bought into phrases like “dancers are tough” and I wore my “Dancing While Injured” badge with honor, but silently. I certainly didn’t want to be the injured dancer that caused group pieces to be re-blocked. My mom was heartbroken watching me walk out of dance frustrated and not knowing how to help me. Even worse were the silent car rides home when I was too discouraged to talk about it. I figured if I let enough time pass, things would magically get better, and I wouldn’t have to admit there was a problem.
Much to my dismay, I found out I was not invincible as a dance major during my sophomore year of college. It was 9pm, and I was in the last half hour of a 3-hour rehearsal. I had danced 3 technique classes earlier that day, and I was exhausted. The Spring performance was 2 weeks away, and we were “cleaning” the piece. My muscles were burning and shaking from fatigue. I was dehydrated and still hadn’t eaten dinner.
I’ll never forget the moment I was upside down pivoting my weight on one hand when my arm gave out and my jaw hit the floor. The music stopped. I slid myself off to the side of the room and everyone rushed over. Crowded around, they kept asking about my face – did I still have all my teeth? My face was fine, but my shoulder was throbbing and it felt like my arm was hanging on by a thread. I blinked away the tears welling in my eyes. My breathing shortened and the pit in my stomach grew. I swallowed it down. I was scared, but I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t want anyone to worry about me or what a potential injury would mean for the upcoming performance. I had to perform – I kept thinking “Your name is in the program. Your family, friends, and entire audience are expecting you in that role. The other dancers and choreographer are counting on you. Don’t let them down.”
So, I ate ibuprofen like candy to get through the next two weeks, but ultimately, the shoulder gave out again… this time on stage, front and center, but thankfully not as dramatically. I hid it well, just like any other mishap on stage, and kept moving. The rest of the performances were a blur and the mantra “you’re a dancer, you can handle this” played on repeat inside my head.
The following week, while studying for an exam, I pushed myself up from the desk chair to take a much-needed bathroom break, and the arm gave out again, effectively dropping me back into the chair. I panicked. This shoulder problem wasn’t just affecting dance – it was now interfering with my daily life. Overwhelm set in as my mind raced with worst-case scenarios – I wouldn’t be able to dance, so I would have to change my major, which would put me behind 2 years, or maybe I wouldn’t graduate, which means I wouldn’t get a job, and I’d have to move back in with my mom, and she would be so disappointed…. You get the picture.
Sitting alone in my dorm room, tears streamed down my face as I finally acknowledged the signs I chose to ignore over the past decade. The signs that all pointed to the inevitable truth I couldn’t turn away from any longer. Through my puffy eyes and the taste of my salty tears, I processed what had happened and what had been happening. Time and time again, I chose to stay silent about my injuries because I was more concerned about how my pain would affect others. I placed more value on living up to (my perception of) others’ expectations than on living up to my own potential. It was at that moment I knew my dance career was over – at least how I had always envisioned it.
Over the next few weeks and many more tears, I turned my grief over what could have been into hope for how I could use my experience to help other dancers like myself. I knew that I was not alone – I was not the only dancer struggling to get through performances while injured. I was not the only dancer more concerned with others’ expectations than my own health. And I was not the only dancer setting herself up for a laundry list of future issues and pain 5, 10, 20, even 40 years down the road.
So, I pivoted and created independent studies and internships focused on learning about and helping injured dancers in my undergraduate, graduate, and doctoral programs, including creating the first dance medicine internship within the physical therapy department at Emory University, which I am proud to say is still thriving over a decade later. Through that process, I realized that each of my own injuries was a missed opportunity to recover stronger than before and to become more successful as a dancer and more resilient as an adult.
Looking back on my journey, I recognize that I didn’t ask for help, in part because I didn’t know who to ask or what to ask for. My mom would have helped me – she would have done anything – but she too didn’t know who or what to ask. Neither did my dance teachers. At the time, there weren’t many dance-specific healthcare providers who could offer solutions and guidance. So, I became one.
Through my experience as an injured dancer, I have found my life’s purpose of educating the dance community and working with dancers, parents, and teachers to break the cycle of suffering in silence due to fear of the unknown and instead foster self-advocacy, confidence while returning from injury, and healthy habits through adolescence and into adulthood.
Thanks for sharing that. So, before we get any further into our conversation, can you tell our readers a bit about yourself and what you’re working on?
I own Charlotte Dance Medicine and, as a dance physical therapist, I provide rehab, performance, and wellness services throughout Charlotte, NC and beyond. I started as a 4-year-old in a tutu and went on to earn a B.A. in Dance from the University of North Carolina at Charlotte, an M.S. in Health & Rehabilitation Sciences (Sports Medicine concentration) from the University of Pittsburgh, and a Doctor of Physical Therapy degree from Emory University, and I still continue to take adult drop-in dance classes. My passion for helping dancers recover from and prevent injuries stems from my personal experience as an injured dancer with no real guidance or support. I believe that dancers should have access to the same quality of specialized healthcare and education as other athletes, and I am on a mission to provide just that.
I work with dancers one-on-one in locations across the greater Charlotte area and facilitate dancer screenings, small group training, and group injury prevention and performance improvement workshops for dance students, professionals, parents, and teachers. I also provide backstage coverage for touring shows, present at national and international dance medicine conferences, and guest lecture for collegiate dance programs. The best part of my job is watching dancers gain confidence and respect for their bodies at all stages of injury and performance and hearing the pride in a parent’s voice as they describe the journey from overwhelm to joy and how that journey has affected how both they – and their dancer – optimistically approach dance and life.
To reach dancers, parents, and teachers beyond Charlotte, in the near future I will be offering virtual workshops and training programs and other educational opportunities. Updates on this will be included in my monthly newsletter, Raising the Barre, which also shares tips, articles, and resources to keep dancers happy, healthy, and doing what they love most. Readers can sign up for the newsletter by visiting the Charlotte Dance Medicine website.
There is so much advice out there about all the different skills and qualities folks need to develop in order to succeed in today’s highly competitive environment and often it can feel overwhelming. So, if we had to break it down to just the three that matter most, which three skills or qualities would you focus on?
When I first decided to quit my salaried corporate physical therapy job with benefits to pursue my vision for better healthcare and education for dancers through my own company, I was terrified. Quitting my job was like making the decision to skydive, it took a ton of courage. And there was doubt along the way, from others and from myself, just like gripping the plane, not wanting to jump out once you’re already in the air. It takes courage to jump, and the first few moments after jumping may be exhilarating or terrifying, but eventually the parachute opens and there’s a peace as you float down taking in the beautiful surroundings. Creative and entrepreneurial ventures often have moments of fear and peace and require courage to embrace both with gratitude for the purposes they serve.
Remaining curious has also been a linchpin during my journey, with a commitment to learning but also with regard to communication. Things are always changing in the medical world as we learn more and the only way to provide the best care for dancers is to learn and evolve as well. Leading with curiosity when listening to clients allows for a stronger connection and to discover deeper goals beyond the surface level goals. Whenever I hear a dancer say “I can’t do ___,” or “I could never do ___,” I respond with “What if you could?” I sometimes use this with my own thoughts and words. The unbiased questioning of reality and curiosity about other possibilities has helped me, and those I work with, evolve personally and professionally.
Growing up in the dance world and continuing in the healthcare world, I am inclined to give and help others. Because of this, setting boundaries has been extremely important throughout my journey. I have found it’s much harder to set boundaries with myself than with others – stopping work at a certain time, not agreeing to every opportunity, not skipping a workout to fit in another client. I’ve come to realize I can’t keep everyone else warm by setting myself on fire. A mentor once told me, “Every time you say ‘yes’ to something that doesn’t serve your purpose, you’re closing yourself off from something that does. And every time you say ‘no’ to something that doesn’t serve your purpose, you’re opening yourself up to saying ‘yes’ to something else that does.” Keeping this in mind helps me stay focused on my purpose.
One of our goals is to help like-minded folks with similar goals connect and so before we go we want to ask if you are looking to partner or collab with others – and if so, what would make the ideal collaborator or partner?
As part of an educational opportunity for dancers, I will be offering access to recorded calls with professionals in various lines of work – all of which could benefit the health and careers of dancers. I am currently looking to connect with healthcare providers (physicians/physician assistants/nurse practitioners, registered dieticians/nutritionists, chiropractors, athletic trainers, mental health professionals, etc.), massage therapists, Pilates/yoga instructors, personal trainers, collegiate dance educators, and arts administrators for a 20-minute interview-style recorded call. There will also be the opportunity for peer learning, for which I am looking to connect with collegiate and conservatory dancers as well as parents of dancers open to sharing their experiences related to injury and how they may have prepared differently during periods of transition. Anyone interested in collaborating on this project can reach out by emailing: [email protected].
Contact Info:
- Website: www.charlottedancemedicine.com
- Instagram: @charlottedancemed
- Facebook: Charlotte Dance Medicine
Image Credits
Emily Kline
