Going Back to the Dance

Dear Chelsea, 

So, due to a host of reasons, but let's just mainly chalk it up to "health" and "work" and "personal," I've taken a hiatus from dancing, for what, about a year now? Yes, that sounds about right. So then, this begs the question: how to dance again? It seems like such a simple question, but it's fraught with many complex feelings. First, I've never been the "best" dancer (snort) even when at my peak. Now, after a year off, will I be hideously terrible? WHAT IF NO ONE WANTS TO DANCE WITH ME? WHAT IF I HAVE FORGOTTEN EVERYTHING? 

Second, I'm out of the habit now. How do I rebuild the habit? I don't have a partner who dances regularly, and my life shifted in that year off. I'm not as young as I was, and it's easy to get lazy, and well, the venues closer to me are waning in popularity, so that's a challenge as well.

Third, while I don't owe anyone an explanation, I've been missing from the dance floor, the internet, and the scene for about a year, with very little word, and there will be questions, most likely. How to handle? For all that I appear to be an open book, I'm often not—I'm good at deflecting, so I don't have to discuss things with everyone, but people do not like being put off. Additionally, I gained 40+ pounds, and I don't look the same. I can't very well expect to show up after disappearing for year without a trace, and not to have to answer to someone, I suppose, but the IDEA of it has kept me away more than once. What do I even say? I don't want to be the sad trombone ruining the music for everyone. And moreover, sometimes once I start talking it's word vomit everywhere and I can't stop myself. What do I do? 

Dear reader,

Let me address your concerns one by one, since you so kindly laid them out for me.

What If No One Wants to Dance With Me

Ah, the fear that no one wants to dance with you is shared by dancers everywhere of all skill levels. And yet because you used to be in the dance scene you know several truths universally acknowledged about why a person isn't dancing at any given moment:

• The lead–follow ratio is off and it is hard for dancers of the other role to have a chance to ask you because other more aggressive dancers are asking them first. 
• You are hiding in a corner far from the floor looking like you do not want to dance (e.g., nose in phone). 
• You have gained a reputation as a creepy dancer or a dancer who is so rough they hurt other dancers (or both).  

These reasons are either not personal (a numbers game, or about where you are standing) or are about gargantuan excesses of personal offence that I, from knowing you personally, know you do not begin to approach. So if you go to a dance and stand near the dance floor and no one dances with you, it's not you; it's the numbers game. 

Your friends don't care how bad your dancing is, and strangers don't know how bad your dancing is, so your fears that your bad dancing will keep people away are in your head.

What If I Have Forgotten Everything

I doubt you've forgotten everything, but if you have, they have classes for that. I also hear that those classes are a great way to meet dancers and make new friends who don't need to ask you about where you've been for the last year. There is no shame in brushing up on your skills! Or, you could take a private lesson to brush up on your own. But you knew this already.

Habits

There is a wealth of literature about how to build a habit, and I will assume that you are perfectly capable of googling "how to build a habit," so instead I'll address what I think is the real issue when you bring up habits and concerns about age, laziness, venue proximity, etc.: that you are using "I'm out of the habit" as an excuse not to go dancing. Why does dancing have to be a habit? Can't you, on any given night, decide that you want to go dancing or that you want to stay home and play video games or that you want to do any number of other things? If you want to go, go. It doesn't have to be a lifestyle choice. 

It's clear to me that, despite your fears, you miss something about dancing, whether that's the people or the activity or both. So why not look at dancing as an opportunity to reconnect with friends during which you might dance? Message a friend to see whether they will agree to show up to the same dance as you. The friend will serve as an anchor to help you feel more comfortable coming to a dance, because you won't be going back cold. Or invite a dance friend to do another activity to strengthen those bonds before you try to go back to a dance. 

For the dancing itself, set a nice low bar. Perhaps you might ask one person to dance the first time you go back. And you will have your conversation with your friend. If after that you feel uncomfortable, you can go home, and you can try again another time if you want. There are no dance police who evaluate each attendee on how much they danced and with whom, what time they went home, etc. Compared to never going dancing again, showing up, one dance, and one conversation would be quite an accomplishment! Start simple. 

Explaining Yourself

I agree that you don't owe anyone an explanation, but I disagree with your phrasing that you should have to "expect to answer to someone" because of the length of your absence and your changes in physical appearance. 

People ask questions as a way to start a conversation. People follow predictable scripts. If they have just met you, they will ask, "What's your name?" and "What do you do?" and maybe "How long have you been dancing?" If they haven't seen you in a long time, they will ask "What have you been up to?" or "Where have you been?" 

So I absolutely do think you will encounter these questions, but only because people feel compelled by social scripts to ask them. Mostly, they are trying to make you feel good by asking after you instead of rudely ignoring your long time away. They also (gasp) are probably genuinely interested in your well-being. 

Here are some thoughts on how you can answer these questions succinctly and without getting too personal for your comfort: 

• Question: "I haven't seen you out dancing in forever! Where have you been?"
• Answer: "I took some time away from dancing for health reasons and because I was really busy at work. Tonight is my first night back and I'm excited but a little nervous. What have you been up to lately?"

• Question: "Oh my god, why did you gain 40 pounds? I'm definitely not dancing with you now."
• Answer: Wait, this question is a joke. No one with a shred of social decorum would ever ask you about your weight gain. They might notice if they know you well (and the ones who don't know you won't know the difference), but they won't ask (or, if they do, brush them off and tell them its personal and to mind their own business).
• Answer part 2: Whether you talk about the weight gain is up to you. If you want to bring it up, you could say, "I took some time away from dancing for health reasons and because I was really busy at work. Tonight is my first night back and I'm excited but a little nervous, especially because I gained some weight [and I'm not sure how my body dances anymore]." Then the person will most likely make a sympathetic remark and you can say, "Well, enough about me—what have you been up to lately?"

If people ever press, all you have to say is, "I'd rather not talk about it, but thank you for asking. How are you?"

Getting Over the Hurdles

All of the reasons you identified in your letter are hurdles you're setting up for yourself because you're nervous and scared. It's alright to be nervous and scared, and there are things you can do to manage those emotions. Connect with friends ahead of time, be nice to yourself about your expectations for how often you will go out and where and how much you will dance while there, and come armed with a few sentences to answer the social script questions when they come up. You might even practice the social script questions with your friend ahead of time. 

You're not going to be a sad trombone and ruin the music for everyone. For one, it would take superhuman effort on your part to be such a sad trombone that you ruined the night of everyone at the dance venue. You'd probably have to commandeer the microphone and overthrow the DJ. You didn't mention planning a dance coup in your letter, so I can only assume you plan to interact on a human scale.

To a degree I think if you practice the social script you can prevent word vomit from running amok. However, if you find that once you start talking, you keep talking, this might just be the way you are. I guarantee that if it is the way you are, your friends already know this about you and they still like you. If you can't keep yourself from talking even though you want to, the thing you should do is to work to accept yourself and love yourself the way your friends already do. And people you are just meeting may think the word vomit is a little odd or a little much, but it will not ruin their night. You are a piece of the puzzle, just as important—and unimportant—as anyone else.   

Above all, take it one day at a time. The first time back is the hardest and then it gets better from there. I hope to see you out dancing. 

New Year's Agreements

Something about the new year inspires people. Less than a week ago many people seemed despondent at the state of the world (or, more specifically, by political prognostications and an accumulating death toll of beloved celebrities); with the dawn of 2017, optimism creeps in as it always does. I don't mind whether you're resolving to dance more, to eat better, to exercise more, to accept yourself as you are, or to finally be consistent about flossing your teeth and not just flossing them for two days before you go to the dentist in the hope the dentist won't notice (they will), or whether you eschew resolutions and trundle on as usual despite the need to buy a new calendar.

Instead, I wanted to share with you all something called The Four Agreements, which I think will help either way. The Four Agreements are principles for how to respond to the world and conduct your life, and in the last three years since I first heard about them shortly following the death of my mother, they have changed mine. The principles are thus:

1. Be impeccable with your word. 
2. Don't take anything personally. 
3. Don't make assumptions.
4. Always do your best. 

They were developed by don Miguel Ruiz, and you can read about them more fully at his website or in his book, and I will do my best to explain my experience with them here. In a nutshell, the premise is that in childhood we learn certain "rules" about the way the world works and how we are supposed to behave in it in order to receive love and attention and avoid punishment. But in most people, this striving (and failing) to live up to what other people want for you results in a continual feeling of not being good enough, which leads to negative beliefs about the self such as...

• I'm not smart.
• I'm not beautiful.
• I should be ashamed of my true wants and desires because they aren't right.
• I'm not good enough at my job/school/hobby for people to like and respect me.
• I deserve pain and suffering because deep down I am a bad person.
• I can't do any better so I had best settle for what I have now. 

There are pithy quotes about how you should always shoot for the moon because even if you miss, you'll land among the stars, etc., but I like this one from Ruiz's book for its rejection of comfortable metaphor:

To be alive is the biggest fear humans have. Death is not the biggest fear we have; our biggest fear is taking the risk to be alive — the risk to be alive and express what we really are. Just being ourself is the biggest fear of humans. We have learned to live our life trying to satisfy other people's demands. We have learned to live by other people's points of view because of the fear of not being accepted and of not being good enough for someone else. 

The thing is, these are learned beliefs. They can be changed. You can change them. You can be yourself and still be loved. And The Four Agreements are principles to help you get there. Here are my thoughts on each.

1. Be impeccable with your word.

To be impeccable with your word is to speak from a generous heart. And in so speaking, firstly and most importantly, mind how you speak to yourself. Tell yourself you're worthy. Tell yourself it's okay to be the way you are. My therapist tells me, "Your feelings aren't your problem. Your anxiety about your feelings is your problem." When she said this, I stopped and wrote it down because it's so true. You can write it down too if you want.

Once you begin to speak to yourself in this way, you begin to speak this way to and about others: That is the second part of being impeccable with your word. Even when you find other people's behavior infuriating, disgusting, and despicable (even if this person is a politician or celebrity), you will be able to speak against the infuriating, disgusting, and despicable behavior and bypass the minefield of character attacks, which tend to reinforce existing sentiment rather than change hearts. But moreover, you will find yourself much more interested in spreading the good in the world than paying heed to the bad.

2. Don't take anything personally. 

"It's not you, it's me" is a cliché but also true. The agreement to not take things personally means to know that whatever a person does is because of them and never because of you. If your loved one yells at you, it's because they are taking out their pain on you. If someone has hurt you or assaulted you or harassed you, it was never your fault. Even if someone tells you to your face that you are ugly, stupid, bad at dancing, mean, unlovable, and the cause of all the wrong in the world, they do this because of their beliefs, not because you are necessarily any of these things. Now, I am not yet such an evolved human that I don't feel upset or hurt anymore because of the actions of other people, but I have found that this agreement helps me respond with a cool head in fiery situations, so I think not taking it personally is helping. Ruiz writes,

But it is not what I am saying that is hurting you; it is that you have wounds that I touch by what I have said. 

Likewise, if someone has told you that you are beautiful, smart, an excellent dancer, nice, lovable, and the bearer of all good tidings, they do this because of their beliefs, not because you are necessarily any of these things. I'm not suggesting that it's not nice to be loved. I am saying that your worth does not come from other people; it comes from you.

3. Don't make assumptions.

People aren't mind readers. Even the people who know us well aren't mind readers—but it's easy to assume that they are, because humans spend their entire lives trying to answer the question of "why," and in the absence (or even presence) of reasons, we make assumptions. Chiefly, Ruiz writes,

We make the assumption that everyone sees life the way we do. We assume that others think the way we think, feel the way we feel, judge the way we judge, and abuse the way we abuse.... And this is why we have a fear of being ourselves around others. Because we think everyone else will judge us, victimize us, abuse us, and blame us as we do ourselves. So even before others have a chance to reject us, we have already rejected ourselves. 

It takes courage to ask questions. Do you want to go out on a date? Who will do which chores in our relationship? Would you like to dance? Can I kiss you? And in the absence (or even presence) of definitive answers, leave the question open rather than make assumptions.

4. Always do your best.

Doing your best isn't about perfection—screw perfectionism (if you have trouble with perfectionism, I highly recommend Brené Brown's book The Gifts of Imperfection). Your best is the best you can do, and no more and no less. This changes from hour to hour and day to day and year to year. Sometimes you are sick, or tired, or hungry, or your heart isn't in it, and you will mess up and speak ill of others, take things personally, and make assumptions. But that doesn't mean that you should quit trying. It also doesn't mean that you should double down and kill yourself in pursuit of happiness. (The high achievers reading this should be mindful of that last sentence.) Be kind to yourself. Over time, with practice, your best gets better.

I hope that my being inspired by the new year to share this part of my life has helped you, but either way, it's okay. (Or at least, I am trying my best for it to be okay—I am worried someone will not like this and will get upset by what I say, but then again I know that that would be about them, not me. Nevertheless, I'm still dealing with the nerves. Just so you know I'm not some sort of super-person.)

Thank you for reading this very long post, and I hope that your new year brings love and light.