I am not a good dancer, at all. In fact I used to hate dancing in front of people. I have found however, that if I have a bad day, turning on my favorite music when I come home and “bustin’ a move” right in the living room is a form of therapy that may be overlooked by many and realized or appreciated by few. I dance when I get out of the shower, I dance when I’m heating up my nasty ramen noodle soup, and I dance alone in my room. Dancing is a form of artistic expression that, like most finished paintings or sculptures never look the same every time.
When I was little my mom used to put on “Kids Sing Along” and my sister and I would dance in our pajamas before school. I remember my sister would always watch television in the comfort of a laundry basket. Her form of dancing was rocking back and forth in her hamper and smiling at the television, while I would spin around in circles and attempt to sing, out of breath.
As I grew up so did my choice of music. I went from Led Zeppelin and AC/DC to Nirvana then Dave Matthews Band and some Yeah Yeah Yeah’s. All of these different types of music shaped what my dance looked like. I would stand all alone with my arms up in the air and my eyes closed and pound my head back and forth to the beat of the music. Thank goodness I was alone for this because people may have taken me as a crazy person. But that’s how I liberated myself. That’s how I still liberate myself.
Every time you get in a rut, dance a little. Every time you don’t feel beautiful or sexy, do a little seductive number in the mirror. Whenever you get lonely call up your best friend and dance while you are on the phone with them. Whatever you can do to make yourself smile. If you can’t smile, cry. Cry until you can’t keep your puffy eyes open anymore, but make sure that you are at least tapping your feet.
Sometimes the best way to proving to yourself that you can do something is just to drop everything and do a quick little jig in the grocery store, or in your car at the banks drive through turn up the radio and make damn sure that the teller through the glass can see you. Don’t stop your dance until someone around you smiles. Because you’re not only helping out yourself, your making others remember that their day just got a little bit happier knowing that someone was willing to not give a shit, and just be happy about life.
The beauty of this marvelous form of therapy is that there are no rules. You can dance wherever you prefer, whenever you prefer. You don’t need any prescription drugs, or an instruction manual, you don’t even need to put shoes on, or clothes for that matter.
Dance to a deceased loved one, dance in hopes of making a sick one well again. Dance to the night time, dance to rising in the morning. You can dance drunk or with a half lit cigarette hanging out of your mouth. You can dance wearing that cute little skirt you have, your business tie and white button-up. Whatever your choice of attire may be or the kind of music you are focusing on. Focus on smiling. Close your eyes and make it your own little world. Liberate yourself and remind yourself that I don’t care what you look like. I Believe in the power of dance as therapy and liberation.
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