I’m a dancer. For the past 20+ years I would have added to that statement “…at heart.” I told myself that I hadn’t danced in years (wedding and kitchen dancing excluded), that my body no longer moved like it used to, and that I never was good enough to call myself a dancer, anyway.
The thing is, dancing is in my soul. It flows through me like the blood in my veins. I dance in my head when a good song comes on. Sometimes freestyle, doing flips and tricks that I never could physically do. Other times with a whole ensemble, choreography, costumes, and audience included.
When I’m excited or happy I break into a little wiggle. In fact, I’m known for my celebratory shimmies when the waiter brings out our meal. At home, in the environment where I’m most comfortable, I bust into spontaneous, uncontrollable fits of pumping, shaking, and the Roger Rabbit whenever I’m feeling good.
For years, I denied this part of my identity. I was so wrapped up in trying to meet unspoken expectations of what an adult/teacher/leader looked like that I lost touch with what it meant to just be me. Dancing was a huge part of that.
I recently had the opportunity to dance with 50+ other women at a soccer game for the Blast, Baltimore’s professional indoor soccer team. I used to cheer for them back in the 90’s, or the 1900’s as I liked to tell the young women currently on their cheerleading team. (Man, did their eyes get wide!)
This was my second time participating in this event, where the current cheerleaders teach choreography to any woman who wants to perform that same evening. Last year, I remember feeling really odd, like I was moving in a body that wasn’t mine. It had been so long that I had performed choreography alongside other people and in front of so many eyes. I was grateful for the experience, but I was also grateful when it was over.
As the date of this year’s rehearsal and game approached, a memory popped into my head from when I danced for the team all those years ago. We were rehearsing for an upcoming game when my coach pulled me in front of my teammates. She turned me around to face them and, shaking my shoulders vigorously said “I want you all to dance like this! Like you are having the time of your life!” I hadn’t realized until that moment how much joy exuded from me when I moved in this way. It was the music, the camaraderie, the expression, and the celebration of moving my body that made me come to life.
That one little memory flooded me with so much emotion, that I decided to take a more joyful approach to this year’s experience. Every time we rehearsed to the music this year, I gave it my all – the movements, my energy, smiling up at the empty seats, adding in my own little bits of style. And each time, I felt more energized and alive. I felt more like myself; the energetic, expressive, and happy soul that I had locked away for so long.
It helped that I was doing this with a former teammate, someone who had been one of my closest friends back in the day. She and I have spent the past year getting reacquainted. As different as both our lives are now, there is still a spirit and connection between us that fills my heart. Dancing with her again took all those good vibes and amplified them 20 times!
There was a piece of me that hesitated before signing up for this event. The part of me that says I’m too old, that I’m not a good dancer, that I’m not even as good as I used to be. It’s the same part of me that worries people will laugh if I fall on my ass, or that will judge the whole thing as silly and see me as a fool. I’m glad I didn’t listen to that voice. Otherwise, I would have once again denied myself many moments of joy that will continue to fuel me whenever I look back.
What joy are you denying yourself because of that annoying inner voice? Whatever it is, I hope you can shut that voice down and have yourself a blast!
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