I took a dance class at Bodyvox. It terrified me. It was not really a dance class. It was a stretch class in the form of dance. It was fun. It was scary. I felt awkward. I enjoyed it. I hated it. I wanted to hide. The mirrors made me very uncomfortable. I cried at the end when the instructor was kind to me. I'm trying to give myself permission to never go back. I'm also knowing that I need to go back.
What's making me so bunched up and creepy-weepy is the fact that I'm the New Girl. And not in a cute Zoey Deschanel sort of way. I'm almost 57. (Sheesh, how did that happen?) I've been in full stress mode for several months. I've gained weight. I feel lethargic and achy. Some days I sleep until almost 10:00! OH. MY. GOD. I am so not myself. And then, why would I be? I'm in a new city, where I know only a couple of people. I have no idea where my place is, where I fit in, what I'm supposed to do, or how I'm supposed to find it. I do not always like being the New Girl. I do not like all this not-knowing.
And then... I also know that this stop on Earth is brief and temporary and not all that important in the Big Picture. I know there's so much more than what we're living here. I know that if I let myself just relax a little bit I'll remember that this is all supposed to be fun. And it can be. I mean really, what's the worst than can happen? I do some clunky dance moves in the process of working a whole lot of crappy mental junk out of my physical body? Or I embarrass myself by crying in the face of kindness? Or I quit the class and move on to something else? It doesn't matter! What matters is that I keep going, keep trying, keep opening the doors to What Might Be Waiting For Me. How can I know if I don't give everything a chance?
I feel like I'm too old to be the New Girl. But here I am. New everywhere I go, with everyone I talk to. It's exhausting. So what? I'll sleep. A lot. And I'll go out there again, and I'll find where I belong, and who I belong with. A Movement Class forced me to moved my body in fun ways I haven't moved since I was 12 years old. Of course I sucked at it! And also, of course there has to be some muscle memory in here, waking up, smiling, and thanking me for the chance to move in old-new ways.
I could play it safe and sit in a chair, or I could dance. Dance with Portland, dance with Life, dance in a class... I think there's only one good option.