Dance like everyone is watching

This weekend I went dancing. 

Which is odd, because I don't dance. Not anymore. 

When I was 3, I went to see the ballet for the first time. I fell in love. It was the nutcracker and Karen Kain was the principal ballerina. So of course I HAD to take ballet lessons. 

I loved those Saturday mornings so much. Dancing brought me so much joy. I wasn't very good. I had no talent and poor coordination. As my mom often told me. But man did I love dancing. In level one ballet (so I was about 5) I got to do my exam. I passed. Not with "exceptional". But it was a pass. 

After that I wasn't invited to take anymore exams. But I was passionate. I danced my heart out. I was allowed to take level 2 and 3 ballet classes. 

At the end of my level 3 year I was told that I hadn't passed even without the exam. I was devastated. I had to repeat level 3 while all my friends moved on to level 4. The only reason I survived was that I was a younger than my classmates, so repeating level 3 meant being with girls my own age. 

At the end of my second level 3 year I stopped taking ballet lessons. I just wasn't built for that style of dancing. My turnout wasn't wide enough. My point wasn't flexible enough. My achilles tendons weren't stretchy enough. And my ankles weren't strong enough to support myself in pointe shoes. 

Instead of ballet, I joined a jazz class with my best friend. That was mostly fun. It wasn't the same as ballet, but I still got to move to the music, to stretch my muscles, and to dance my heart out. 

When it was time for costumes though, the teacher measured our waists. In front of the class. And called out our measurements. In front of the class. I was an average sized girl. But I was convinced that I was fat because of many comments from family, because of my Mom's constant dieting, because of my Dad oinking at me when I ate. 

I was still 2 years away from developing anorexia, but I was incredibly self-conscious. And I was sure that my measurements were giant. I was so embarrassed. I quit at the end of that term. 

To replace jazz, I started taking tap classes. Tap was awesome. It didn't matter that I wasn't super flexible (even after 6 years of yoga). It didn't matter that I wasn't as graceful as my ballerina friends. In tap it was more about rhythm, technique, and bouncing. And also smiling. I loved loved loved tap dancing. 

In grade 8 I had an enormous crush on a grade 13 boy that I met. I was sure that I was madly in love with him. And that we were destined to be together (Oddly, he ended up marrying one of my good high school friends). 

This boy went to a school of the arts. So obviously I had to go there too. Even though he was graduating. 

I decided to major in Music Theatre. I prepared my audition and arrived at the school ready to sing my heart out. And more importantly, ready to fake my way through the dance portion of the audition. And fake it I did. I forgot the steps. But what I lacked in talent I made up for with enthusiasm and a big smile. 

Somehow I got in. I still don't understand why. 

For the next 5 years of my life, I learned singing and dancing and acting. I performed in several shows a year. And in all that time, I was dancing. Not well. But with gusto. And it brought me joy. Performing in musicals was fun and exciting. 

After graduation I didn't take anymore dance classes. However, I was of age. I discovered bars. Specifically the one gay bar in the town where I went to university. 

This bar was my happy place. 

My friends and I would dance all night on a packed dance floor. And my passion for dancing had found an outlet where remembering steps and performing was no longer necessary. This kind of dancing was better than all my years of lessons and performances. 

There were even nights where the dance floor was empty. And I didn't care. I would dance with abandon. It felt like freedom. Moving around that floor all alone without a care in the world. Pure happiness. 

And then something changed. 

My eating disorder evolved. My binging and purging followed by bouts of starvation caught up with me. I started to gain weight. Over a period of 5 years, I gained 90 pounds. My body was completely different than it had ever been before. 

My body didn't feel the same. It didn't move the same. I didn't recognize myself. I didn't know how to exist in this body. The more weight I gained the more symptomatic I became. My cycle of starve-binge-purge became more intense. Which only made my body worse. 

I stopped dancing. 

Bars became a place of discomfort. I felt like I was being seen and judged. Always. Fat people experience the world differently than thin people. It is assumed that we are lazy. That we only eat junk and fatty greasy foods. That we eat at fast food restaurants every day. We are judged. Commented on. Stared at. And often insulted right to our faces. 

Dancing meant being seen moving a body that I was not comfortable in. It meant people seeing this body moving. I felt like I wasn't allowed to dance. That I didn't have the right to take up space in the world, let alone on the dance floor. It felt as though my mere existence wasn't allowed.

It felt like everyone around me was thin and beautiful and graceful and perfect. 

So I haven't danced for a very long time. Years. Years of lacking the strength to be seen. Years of being self-conscious of this body that I still don't recognize. This body that I mistreat with my eating disorder cycle. 

Being in this body is a challenge. 

Being in a body that I hate makes me feel like it doesn't belong to me. So the idea of getting on a dance floor and moving while people are near me and seeing me causes great anxiety. It sends me into a panic. 

When I go out "dancing" with friends, I stand on the sidelines watching. Or I stand still on the dance floor so that I'm not alone. 

When I dance in front of people in this unrecognizable body, I feel exposed. I feel like I'm naked and fat and ugly. I feel as though everyone is watching me. 

So I don't dance. 

But ... I came up with a plan: I spent a few days painting about dancing, all leading up to Saturday night. 

I promised myself that I would dance. 

I had so much anxiety about it. So much panic. It meant having a few (or more) drinks. But I did it. I went out onto that dance floor and I danced. I mean I really danced. Like I did in my 20s. Like I did when I was thin. Like I did when my body was my body. Like I did when I wasn't afraid to take up space in the world.

I danced as if I deserved to be there. 

And it felt good. 

Be kind to yourself.

xoxo

...

friendship and support

i was never the kind of person who reached out for support. i was the kind of person who tucked away my troubles and pretended to the world that everything was fine. 

i was too busy taking care of everyone else and didn't have the time or energy to take care of myself. so i let my health go. i let my body go. i pushed all my emotions down inside of me and buried them tightly in the bottom of my heart, so that my heart became filled with hairline fractures. which are harder to mend than a deep single crack. 

but over the past few years i have been seeking support and finding true friendships. and discovered that, as nosy nora says, we all need each other. 

“A fine glass vase goes from treasure to trash, the moment it is broken. Fortunately, something else happens to you and me. Pick up your pieces. Then, help me gather mine.” 
― Vera Nazarian

being able to reach out for support hasn't been easy for me. it made (makes) me feel weak, and needy, and clingy. it makes me feel like i am not strong enough to face up to the world. but i am discovering that people are there to pick up your pieces and help put you back together. no one is humpty dumpty. it doesn't take all the king's horses or all the king's men to mend a broken heart, or to support a friend. (on a side note, do you realize that there is nothing in the humpty dumpty poem that says he is an egg? where did that image come from? i looked it up and wikipedia has several theories but nothing proven. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Humpty_Dumpty) picking up the pieces isn't something that you need to do on your own. the world is full of supportive people who are there to help with the shards of your life. 

“Support and encouragement are found in the most unlikely places.” 
― Raquel Cepeda

what i have discovered through this process is that support can come from places you never expected. an online support group, for example, has been a place for me to share my stories with people who understand. and these strangers offer me strength and guidance in ways i never thought possible. 

my emotional growth through this experience of writing a blog has been tantamount to a miracle. in a million years i never would have thought that his little blog would reach 25,000 page views. that strangers would email me to thank me for my writing. that friends would read my posts and tell me that they connect to my stories. being able to write about my life, my struggles, my heart ache, my successes, my happiness, my sadness, my weaknesses and my strengths ... being able to write about my life gives me strength. it makes me stronger to know that i am putting myself out there. even if it is anonymously published for my own protection - i'm not impervious to pain or embarrassment you know. 

“Friendship is born at that moment when one man says to another: "What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . ."” 
― C.S. Lewis

i have also discovered that people have way more in common with each other than we first believe. we live with such shame and secrecy and privacy and the inability to share our stories. and it turns out that there are people in my life who have been on similar paths. and we can connect with each other and support each other in ways that no one else can. 

“You can't stay in your corner of the Forest waiting for others to come to you. You have to go to them sometimes.” 
― A.A. Milne, Winnie-the-Pooh

i learned through this process of wanting to take care of myself, that you have to ask for help. and when you do, you actually get it. 

what what? 

no, really. when you ask someone to help you, they actually do. when you reach out for support you actually get support. ok, not from everyone. some people are selfish assholes and you can't change that. they aren't worth your emotional energy. but most people? most people will give you the support that you need. 

“There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.” 
― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone


there are some stories that no one else can understand unless they have lived that truth. and those are the people whose support can surprise you. unless you share your stories, you'll never know that there are people out there who can relate ... who can commiserate ... who truly understand. knocking out a mountain troll doesn't have to be the only way that you make friendships. but sharing your truth is one way to be sure that those friendships are genuine and are built on truth and understanding. 

i am so very lucky to have a fabulous partner who loves me, adores me, and supports me. i am appreciative and grateful for the people in my life who offer me friendship and support.  i am fortunate to have a fantastic therapist with whom i can share my stories and my emotional tornadoes. i would list the people that i have gratitude for ... but i know that i would forget someone. so if you are someone that i have turned to for emotional support, or for a listening ear, or a shoulder to cry on, or advice, or just a helping hand ... i thank you for being there. you know who you are. 

and in closing ...

“There is nothing better than a friend, unless it is a friend with chocolate.” 
― Linda Grayson

be kind to yourself, 

xoxo
...

unexpected

things don't always go as planned. 

i am a planner. i think things through. i am prepared. i am organized. 

yesterday i was supposed to see a movie and instead ended up with a flat tire. 

today i imagined (worried and stressed about) that i planned to spend the entire day waiting for my tire to get fixed and the mechanic ended up fixing it within an hour. 

nosy nora suggested that i spend my time worrying about things in place of other things. as in, i worry about my car getting a flat tire instead of worrying about important and reasonable things. instead of admitting to myself what i am actually worrying about. i fill my brain with worries that are slightly ridiculous, or at least unimportant. 

today, for example, while talking to nosy nora i was completely distracted thinking about where i parked my car. why? because i had to go in a different entrance and parked in a different spot and was completely convinced that i wasn't going to be able to find my way back and if and when i did find my way back to the car i wasn't going to be able to find my way out of the parking lot. so as we were talking, i kept picturing myself driving around the underground garage in circles for an hour trying to find the exit. 

dude. there are signs that say "exit" and have arrows. and the lot isn't that big. 

but i was totally distracted and my heart was racing. 

so back to my flat tire. i lost it and had a total and complete meltdown over the tire. it was ridiculous. i couldn't stop crying. over a tire. nosy nora says, "it's just a car." and intellectually i know that. but one of my biggest anxieties is about something happening to my car. so getting a flat tire did me in. i just stood there on the side of the road crying and couldn't stop.

it was so embarrassing. 

so the question becomes, what was i really crying about? was it my car? was it my tire? or was that just the tipping point in my stressful life? 

what does my anxiety cover up? what space does it replace in my brain. 

in case you're wondering, my uncle came and changed my tire to the spare. my aunt made me sugary tea and gave me a long hug. we drove home on the highway very slowly and then i took the car in this morning to the mechanic. the rim was bent and apparently that makes the tire leak. totally don't get it. but i don't need to. that's what mechanics and uncles are for. 

another major anxiety of mine is the dentist. i'm terrified that i will go to the dentist, and s/he will clean my teeth and my front tooth will fall out. 

crazy. 

i know i'm crazy. 

i think about it all the time. i am completely convinced that my front tooth is going to fall out. which if i don't get myself to a dentist could actually happen. but i'm too scared to go to the dentist. 

PP says that if my tooth falls out at the dentist i would have all sorts of blog stories to tell ... 

... 

things don't always go the way you expect them to. you can't plan for everything. you can't always be prepared. 

my car has a spare tire, jack, and wrench. i worry about flat tires all the time. i was completely prepared to have a flat and had a way to deal with it. i also have CAA (that's like AAA if you're reading this from the states. it's a car service if you're reading this from another country). but i wasn't emotionally prepared for the flat tire. it was completely unexpected. 

if we spend our time preparing for the worst, we won't be able to enjoy our lives. you can't plan life. life unfolds. you can't control anything that happens to you or what other people do, think, or feel. the only thing you can control is your reaction to the unexpected. or in my case, the reaction to the reaction. 

i need to forgive myself for sobbing about a flat tire. i need to forgive myself for needing my uncle to fix the problem instead of dealing with it myself. and i need to forgive myself for struggling to face the unexpected. 

be kind to yourself, 

xoxo

...

changes

so i was beginning to think that over the last 2 years i haven't really made any changes. that i trudge along throughout my day and do the same things, behave the same way, react the same way ... i felt like i was a caterpillar stuck at that stage of my life, in a cocoon unable to grow wings. 

... nosy nora asked me if i noticed any changes and i said not really. then she listed the changes ...

... i am no longer addicted to nortriptyline or what nosy nora and i call "the yellow pills." i don't take them. i don't obsess over them. 

... i no longer abuse sedatives. i don't crave them. i don't think about them and long for them. 

... i say "no" more often. and i am aware of doing things that i don't want to do, and at times i don't do them. AG reminds me that i am an adult and i don't have to do anything i don't want to do. 

... i no longer binge. if i start to binge, i am able to stop myself in the moment and question why i am bingeing. and i am able to stop the cycle. 

... i no longer purge. even when i really, really have the urge to throw up, i have strategies and coping skills that i didn't have before. 

... i am able to feel my feelings and am no longer numb to my emotions. 

those are some pretty major changes. and here i thought i wasn't doing the work to change my life. i still have many more things that i want to work on. i am still struggling with depression and anxiety. but in the grand scheme of things, i am doing pretty damn well. so maybe i am a butterfly now. 

think about your life over the last few years. what changes have you made?

be kind to yourself, 

xoxo

...

a conversation with martha

“Worrying is carrying tomorrow's load with today's strength- carrying two days at once. It is moving into tomorrow ahead of time. Worrying doesn't empty tomorrow of its sorrow, it empties today of its strength.” 
― Corrie ten Boom

in my last post, i shared that i have named my anxiety martha. i imagine her as a 75 year old plump and grumpy woman. she likes to knit and nag. and nag and nag and nag. she sits in her rocking chair and tells me all the bad things that are going to happen to me. 

here is what a conversation with martha would sound like:

Me: i have to drive home from the cottage. look, someone has a flat tire.

Martha: you're going to have a flat tire. watch out for that bump. 

Me: it's just a bump.

Martha: nope, it's a bump that is going to pop your tire. and then you'll have to call a tow truck and ride in with with SC and the dog for 2 1/2 hours.

Me: it's just a bump.

Martha: nope.

Me: okay, we passed the bump and no flat tire.

Martha: your tire is going to explode. at some point on this drive. 

Me: really?

Martha: really. it's going to explode and you'll have to sit on the side of the road for hours waiting for CAA to come with a tow truck. 

Me: it's not going to explode.

Martha: what's that sound?

Me: what sound?

Martha: the rattling squeaking sound.

Me: i don't know.

Martha: the car is going to spontaneously burst into flames. 

Me: really?

Martha: yes, i told you that you should have taken the car in for a check-up. and you should have gotten an oil change. and you really should pull over the car right now. right, right NOW. because the car is going to burst into flames with you in it. seriously, pull over.

Me: i can't pull over. i want to pull over. because i know you're right. but i can't pull over here. 

Martha: you should have pulled over while you had the chance. you're an idiot. and now you're going to be an idiot with a flat tire, and a car in flames. 

Me: i'm an idiot. 

what would a conversation with your anxiety sound like? who wins, you or your anxiety? lots of times my anxiety wins. lots and lots of times. the trick is to find a way to tell your martha that she isn't wanted, that she isn't invited, and that you don't want her around. sending away your anxiety and telling it that it doesn't run your life is one way to deal with anxiety. 

“Life is ten percent what you experience and ninety percent how you respond to it.” 
― Dorothy M. Neddermeyer

naming your anxiety is another way to separate it from yourself. you are not your anxiety, you are having anxiety. by naming it, you are giving it a separate identity and putting distance between you and your anxiety. 

“Man is not worried by real problems so much as by his imagined anxieties about real problems” 
― Epictetus

martha and i are safely home from the cottage now. no flat tire, and no flames. in case you were worried like i was. 

in the meanwhile ...

be kind to yourself, 

xoxo

...