The Dancing Bug

Posts Tagged ‘mental-health

One of my dearest friends in the whole wide world has an interesting job. She’s an actual, authentic, professional, jet-setting rock-star dance instructor.

This is a woman with whom I’ve shared laughter and tears, good times and bad, and all the ups and downs of being a human being on this planet. She’s the sweetest, dearest person imaginable. I’ve taken dozens of classes with her, and from her, and danced with her hundreds of times.

And still, every time I dance with her, I’m terrified.

Why? I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that no matter how much I think my dancing has improved and how pleased with myself I might be because of this, every time I dance with her I still get incredibly intimidated. As a result I end up dancing like one of Santa’s reindeer with a Duplo block stuck in his hoof.

I admitted as much to her recently. We were out dancing one night, and she was actually getting a little discouraged with me. “Why is your arm so tense?” she asked. “What’s wrong?” I confessed to being intimidated at dancing with her, and she was frankly amazed. “You’re scared of ME?” she asked. “Why??”

Well, let’s see (I think to myself): you’re famous. People pay you to travel all over the world and teach them how to dance. You have more dance expression in your left clavicle than I’ve got in my whole body. No special reason.

So then and there I decided that from now on, when I dance with her, or with any other dancer I’m especially nervous about, I’m going to take a new approach. I’m just going to TRY to dance bad.

See, back when I used to have to work in offices and go to meetings and such, I learned that in the business world, people expect you to be businesslike. Above all, this means that you can’t ever cry at work. And sometimes I’d be at work and I’d start thinking about my kids and how much I missed them while I was at work and they were at daycare, and I’d start to tear up. You know, hormones. It happens.

Anyway, I hit on this strategy. If you ever start crying and really really need to not cry at that exact moment, here’s what you do. You TRY to cry. It will totally derail you and completely confuse your tear ducts and they’ll dry up immediately.

So I figure the same thing might work with dancing. If you’re dancing, and you start to feel like you’re dancing badly just at the exact moment when you really need to be dancing well, like say if you’re dancing with your rock star BFF, then just try to intentionally dance as badly as possible. It very well might trick your body out of being able to dance bad.

It’s actually just a theory. But so far it’s working: I haven’t had a really horrible dance since I started using this system. Of course, that might be a coincidence. I don’t know. What do you think?

You know what’s kinda fun, in a weird way? Going out dancing when you’re the only couple in the place who knows how.

I live in a small town an hour outside Portland. It’s in what they call “Wine Country,” which means up until twenty years ago it was all turkey farmers and hicks. Then the “wine people” moved in, and now along with the hicks, we got a lot of displaced Californians. Both types do an awful lot of drinking, the only difference being that half the population gets wasted on PBR, and the other half on Pinot. But none, I mean none, of these people know how to dance.

So a couple times in the last few months, one of our fancy wine bars in town has inexplicably started hiring small dance bands. I mean proper danceable Django cover bands. Why, I have no idea. It’s kind of surreal. After all, I’ve spent the last ten years of my life driving miles and miles each week to seek out places to dance. All of a sudden, there’s this place two blocks from my house – well, it’s just weird.

Both times it’s happened, my DH and I have shown up and there’s this great jazz happening, nice clear dance floor, and a bunch of people sitting around drinking and watching the band. I mean, just watching them, you know, like it’s a lecture or something. All serious.

So of course the first thing we do is we barge out there and start dancing. I mean, we got the whole floor to ourselves, and we’re not gonna let that band go to waste. Years ago, of course, when I was a kid I never would have done such a thing, but dancing changes you. And I guess maybe getting older changes you too. Because nowadays I’ll dance anywhere, I don’t care who’s looking. (I even danced in Staples one time when a good song came on, and another customer started dancing with me. Surprised both of us!)

Anyway, so naturally, at this bar, as soon as we start dancing, people start watching us. And we’re doing Balboa, so of course everyone is staring down at our feet, which I always find hilarious. They’re all just staring at the floor. But for a while it’s kind of cool; it’s like we’re part of the show.

But what’s really awesome is that after a couple of songs (and admittedly, after a couple of drinks), the other folks in the room start standing up to try it. And you can see that they’re not just dancing any old way, like they would if it was just from the buzz or the way they did at their senior prom. They’re actually trying to do what we’re doing. They’ve observed that we’re in a certain kind of close embrace, and they try that. They see we’re doing this sort of quick stepping business, and they try to make that happen. It’s really pretty adorable.

I mean, they’re awful, of course. They’re all dancing really big and sort of humorous, covering up the fact that they feel kinda foolish out there. But all the same, they’re having a good time. And it’s great because the only reason they have the courage to try it is that we stood up and did it first. They didn’t have to be the first ones. At least, they would have needed to drink a lot more before they would have dared to be the first ones.

Anyway, so now these people are like sheep without a shepherd. I just gotta figure out how to get some more teaching gigs in town so the folks will know how to dance without killing each other.

But it’s definitely a start!

Let’s be realistic; nothing in this life is perfect. No matter how great something seems, there’s always a catch. Even dancing has its downside. Only one, mind you, and it isn’t even all that bad. Still, in order to offer a balanced viewpoint, I feel compelled to point out this one unfortunate thing about dancing:

It ruins you for almost every form of what other people generally think of as “fun.”

I remember going to rock concerts in my younger days. I’d save up my pennies so I could drop a huge bundle on the price of a ticket. I’d get all dressed up, then spend hours standing in line at some crowded stadium getting trompled on by a bunch of drunken fools, just for the privilege of sitting there watching somebody else get paid to sing and dance around. Or I’d spend less money, get all dressed up and go to some seedy dive, just to stand in a crowd of drunken fools and watch someone less talented sing and dance around. I used to think of this as “fun.”

Nowadays, if there’s music playing, I have to be dancing, or there’s no point. To watch someone else having fun is no fun.

I used to go to parties. When I was in college, a party meant a lot of people crammed into a small house, each in some stage of intoxication. At least half the group would be watching something on a large screen. The other half would be trying to negotiate their way into each other’s pants. There was usually music in the background, but no one would be doing much about it. Any dancing would consist of either a drunken sort of jumping up and down, or pants negotiations, or both. I used to find this “fun.”

Later on, after I had kids, parties meant a bunch of wives perched on folding chairs in someone’s living room, eating cake off paper plates and discussing pediatricians, while the husbands were standing around a barbecue grill in the backyard, drinking beer and discussing sports. Usually the only music came from the room where the kids were watching the Disney Channel. And to be fair, I doubt anyone has ever really considered this “fun.”

Nowadays, to call something a “party” that doesn’t include dancing, proper dancing, seems like a cruel joke.

There are outdoor-type activities that people consider “fun.” Camping, boating, skiing, fishing and what-have-you. Now, I’m not immune to the beauty of nature and the salubrious effects of fresh air and wholesome recreation. And I guess you could say I enjoy the outdoors as much as I ever did (interpret that how you will). But nowadays I find that wherever I am, whenever I have a relaxed moment, my mind is soon replaying the latest YouTube video from my favorite dance instructor, or planning my outfit for Thursday night’s dance.

So in other words, I guess the downside of dancing for me is that nowadays, no matter what it is I’m doing, with few exceptions, I’d almost always rather be dancing.

Last night I didn’t feel like going dancing, but I made myself go anyway.

I’d been depressed all day, you see. It was one of those days where I just couldn’t get started at doing anything. Nothing sounded fun or important enough to bother with; consequently, I wasted most of the day lying around fiddling with a Rubik’s cube and eating leftover Halloween candy.

So I felt like a slug. Way too much of a slug to go dancing. Plus my back hurt and I had a weird pain in my foot. All I wanted to do was stay home and watch old Sanford and Son episodes. But I figured staying home would just make me feel worse.

Besides, I was supposed to meet someone there, and I just didn’t feel like yet again, like always, failing to follow through on my commitments. You understand the kind of day I was having?

So I dragged myself to the dance. And I had a terrible night.

Not like the music wasn’t perfect, it totally was. And bunches of my friends were there. It should have been great. And I did have a couple of very pleasant dances with folks.

But I just wasn’t feeling it. Physically, I felt exhausted and huge, like I was this big awkward object lurching around. Mentally, I felt like I was back in middle school, watching the popular kids have fun while I ate my lunch at the dork table.

There was this girl there that I’d been wanting to dance with, a really good follow who I don’t really know, but have been dying to try and lead. The perfect song came on, so I ran to find her. She was talking to a guy, but I had already tapped her on the shoulder before I processed that she was busy. Not like I could just go “oh, never mind.” I’d already interrupted their conversation, I had to follow through, so I asked her to dance, and she agreed.

I was pretty sure she’d said yes just to be polite, so I really wanted to dance well to make up for my having asked her to dance in the first place. You know, make it worth her while. So naturally, I danced terrible.

Then, to make it worse, I apologized for my bad dancing.

Then, to make it even more worse, I tried to explain, and then suddenly I found I couldn’t stop explaining. I kept talking on and on, and she was staring at me like I was a crazy person. Which I basically was.

For the rest of the night I found I had this apologizing complex. I couldn’t stop apologizing, and then apologizing FOR apologizing. Leading, following, didn’t matter. I couldn’t stop telling people how bad a dancer I was. It was like my body had been taken over by some weird apologizing demon, and all I could do was helplessly listen to myself, unable to stop.

I don’t even know if there’s a moral to this story. Sometimes, when you’re having a bad day and don’t feel like going out, the healthiest thing is to make yourself go out anyway, because it will usually make you feel better. But last night I really should have stayed home and watched Sanford and Son. So I guess the moral is that sometimes, if you don’t feel like going out, it’s better to stay home.

Okay, a lot of folks have justifiably called me out on one aspect of my last post that really was unchill. I practically accused people of being homophobic if they don’t want to dance with a same-sex dance partner. And that wasn’t nice of me.

So now, I need to confess something. As much as I’ve been going on and on about how great it is for follows to learn to lead, have I ever mentioned that I don’t really like to dance with other women?

It’s something I’m trying to get over.

Part of the problem is that “real” follows – females, usually – know the difference between a good lead and a bad lead, while most guys don’t. So I feel like I don’t have to be perfect when I lead a guy, we can just goof around and have fun.

But the bigger and far more disturbing problem is that women just feel strange to me. I mean their actual flesh feels strange.

When I dance with men, there’s a solidness about them. Even men who aren’t particularly fit feel muscular and substantial. And they feel warm to the touch.

When I put my hand on a girl’s back or on her upper arm, it doesn’t feel that way to me. It feels cool to the touch, and mooshy. I feel like my hand sinks in too much, more than I expect. It’s a peculiar unsubstantial feeling. And with really skinny girls it’s even worse – they feel so flimsy, like they’re made out of straws.

And I don’t know, maybe there is just a lingering touch of social stigma about it for me.

When it comes to the stigma part, I can only imagine it’s a hundred times worse for men than for women, particularly in some parts of the world. And if girls feel creepily squishy to me, I must assume that men would feel bizarrely brittle to other men who aren’t used to that much physical contact with them.

I’m committed to the idea that this is something we owe it to ourselves to get over if we’re going to progress as dancers, and as human beings. But that doesn’t mean that it isn’t a significant hurdle. At least it has been to me.

What do you all think? Has anyone else experienced what I’m talking about?

I hope you don’t mind if I get a little maudlin all up in this blog, but I just gotta send out a big weepy hug to everyone who commented on my last post. Swing dancers are the sweetest people.

A terribly wise and spiritual-minded type person once told me that if your family of origin doesn’t quite do it for you, when you grow up you gotta go out and find your own tribe.

Part of the reason I never stray long from swing dancing is that for better or worse, you people are my tribe.

So I’ve been going through this phase where I sorta hate dancing. Do you ever feel this way?

I’m not sure what it is.

Part of it is just me. I’ve been feeling old, fat and ugly, and not sure I care one way or another. It seems like a pointless task to try and make myself presentable enough to go out.

Another thing is my dancing. I feel like I take lessons after lessons, but I still dance just as bad as ever. It’s been a long time since I had a really spectacular dance with anyone, and I know it isn’t their fault, it’s mine. Dancing with me must be roughly equivalent to trying to move a grand piano with one broken wheel.

Then when I look around the room, all I see is these kids. Cute young guys dancing with cute young girls, all probably looking to get romantic with someone, and here’s me, this random old married lady. What’s wrong with this picture?

Plus, everybody dances bad. The leads either yank me around all over the place like I’m some kind of sports equipment, or they’re diffident and wimpy, and none of them has any imagination. Then when I try to lead the girls, they’re either as immobile as a tombstone, or they’re leaping around everywhere without waiting for me.

Of course, the DJs are awful. Why can’t they, just once, just for a lark, play a song that actually makes me feel like dancing? It’s always just the same old stuff, over and over.

In other words, I’m depressed.

Well, it happens once in a while. I’ve hated dancing before, and I’ll hate it again. But it never lasts long.

Anybody got any great advice for getting out of dance depression?

It has come to my attention that my advice yesterday about being friendly when you go out dancing may not be particularly helpful for some people.

As someone rightfully pointed out to me, if he knew how to do that he wouldn’t need the advice in the first place!

Many of us get started at dancing for the very reason that, in the course of our normal existence, we don’t get the chance to meet a lot of people. Writers and artists of all kinds, those of us who work from home or in a cubicle, students and other brainiacs who have to do a lot of reading every day – there are lots of occupations where you’re isolated most of the time. Engaged in our important or not-so-important work all day long, we may gradually lose the ability to connect with people. And if we started out shy or isolated as children, we may never have acquired that ability in the first place.

Basically, our culture tends to make everyone more and more socially awkward.

Going out dancing is a great idea for correcting this! There’s no better way to meet lots of nice people. But the problem is that if you don’t know how to meet people in the first place, then you may go home from dancing feeling more isolated than ever.

So if that’s your situation, never fear! I’m going to quickly run through some of my best advice for the ultra-shy.

  • When you go out dancing, always try to get there in time for the drop-in. Even if you already know how to dance. Actually, I think the drop-in is a lousy place to learn to dance anyway. If you want to really learn to dance, take some privates or go to workshops. But always take the drop-in because it’s a great way to meet people. The main benefit of drop-ins is that they’re full of people who all feel super awkward. So if you feel awkward, you’re not alone – everyone else does, too.

(A side note: Instructors, please remember this. Don’t try to stop people from talking in the drop-in. You’re not going to teach them to be excellent dancers in an hour anyway. So leave them alone. And please remember to rotate a lot! Thank you.)

Say you weren’t able to get there in time for the drop-in. Or you’re in the drop-in, but the instructors are being all weird and not letting you talk. All is not lost! People expect to be asked to dance when they go out dancing, so just ask people to dance. There have been a lot of posts in this blog already about asking people to dance, and there will be many more, so I’m not going to go into it here. But the following advice works equally well whether it’s in the drop-in or during the normal part of the dance.

  • Introduce yourself to everyone you dance with. Just say, “Hi, I’m Howard.” Or Dorothy, or Spike or whatever. Normally, the other person will then offer his or her name. Memorize it. This is important, because I want you to thank them by name when you’re done dancing with them. Come on, you’re a brainiac, memorizing things is what you do, right? You can do this! Try to learn at least a couple of names per night.
  • After you’re consistently able to introduce yourself, start trying to follow up the exchange of names by saying just one other thing. That’s all I’m asking you to do, say one thing. If it leads to a conversation, great! If not, you’re off the hook; just smile and know that you did your part. Remember that while you don’t want to ask personal questions right away, it’s easier for the other person to think of something to say back if you leave a question mark at the end of whatever you say.

Here’s some topic ideas:

  1. The crowdedness: “Boy, it’s crowded tonight, isn’t it?” or “Where is everyone tonight?”
  2. The lighting: “I wish they’d turn the lights down a little, you know?” or “Does it seem kind of dark in here to you?”
  3. The temperature: “Why is it so cold in here?” or “It’s like a sauna in here, isn’t it?”
  4. The room: “Aren’t those some crazy light fixtures?” or “Isn’t this floor amazing?”
  5. The building: “Isn’t this a cool old building?” or “Has this always been a dance place, do you think?”
  6. The music: “Is this Louis Prima?” or “I just love Ella Fitzgerald, don’t you?”
  7. The season: “How’s your summer going?” or “Are you all ready for the holidays?”
  8. The band: “Have you heard this band before?” or “Isn’t this band awesome?”
  9. The move: “Am I leading this right?” or “Have you done this move before?”
  10. The instructors: “Those instructors are fun, aren’t they?” or “Did you notice that instructor’s crazy shoes?”

You can use the above steps even when you’re not dancing. If you find yourself standing next to someone in line, or you’re both sitting out the same song, try introducing yourself and saying one other thing. You can think of it as practice, if that helps.

When you’ve done the above, you really don’t need to do anything else. Don’t keep trying to force a conversation if it’s going nowhere. But what I do suggest is listening when the other person answers you. If they’re skilled, they’ll answer you back in such a way that it gives you the chance to say something else, and it can go back and forth. It’s like volleyball; you both keep hitting the ball back and forth until someone drops it.

And someone will drop it. You can’t keep talking forever. If the talking gets too much for you, you can always stop. The other person will just assume you’re listening to the music or thinking about something. Same goes for them if they stop talking. Don’t take it personally. Just smile.

And remember one of the beauties of dancing: at most, you’ve got three minutes of awkwardness with any one person.

Okay, so what can you do?

You’ve been going out dancing for awhile, and you’re seriously bummed out because no one seems to want to dance with you. No one ever asks you to dance, and when you ask them, they take one look at your grotesque self and either dance with you but have a pained look on their face the whole time, or they come up with a lame excuse not to dance with you at all. Either that, or they run screaming for the door. What can you do about this?

There are many voices out there that say you shouldn’t have to do anything at all. It’s those peoples’ fault, not yours. They’re wrong and bad and shallow for not wanting to dance with you, just because you’re the wrong size, shape, color, age, sexual orientation or whatever to fit their ideal. There’s no reason you should have to change anything about yourself in order to get dances.

And there really is something to this. It is just a dance, after all, not a marriage proposal. If people go out dancing it really does seem quite stupid to go around not dancing with folks. Life is short; we all really ought to be dancing with as many people as we can while we have the time left. And the leaders of our dance communities should be modeling and teaching this concept. This is all very true.

But apparently in the real world it doesn’t always work that way. People don’t always dance with folks. There’s probably some of this happening in all dance scenes, and in some scenes it’s apparently quite a problem. So what can you do?

One thing you can do is quit dancing. I hear this one more often than I’d like to. Just  forget about dancing and try something else where people aren’t so mean and shallow. Although I don’t know what that would be. Anything that brings you into contact with other humans, you’re going to run the risk that those humans are going to be idiots. It isn’t just dancers.

Of course, we all know what the number-one, all-time best way of getting dances is. If you can possibly arrange to be born beautiful, that helps a lot. If you look like Liv Tyler or James Franco, most people are going to want to dance with you, no matter what. Even those jerks who won’t dance with anyone else will dance with you. Even if you dance like a wallaby with sciatica, people will be sniffing after you all night long.

Oh, so you tried that? Yeah, me too. Didn’t work so well. I tried so hard to be born with excellent genes. I especially tried to have long, slender legs, a flat stomach, long blonde hair and big boobs. But my parents had other plans, unfortunately, and didn’t cooperate. Dammit!

Okay, so another thing you can do is study for years and years and become a really excellent dancer. Lots of us are practically killing ourselves even now trying to pull this one off. If you’re a famous rock star, no one will particularly notice how funny-looking you are.

After all, think of all the rock stars you know. Funny-looking, right? Every single one of them. Come on, seriously? Has no one noticed this but me?

But getting to rock-star status could take awhile. And although practicing and working on your dancing is a very excellent thing to be doing with your time, you can’t just sit around not dancing with people until that glorious day when you’re famous on YouTube.

So what can you do?

Well, I’ve got some ideas, but this post is already long enough. So I’ll save it for the next couple of days. But in the meantime, it would be nice to hear from some folks. How can you make people want to dance with you? What works?

When I was just starting out dancing, I was terrified to ask guys to dance, and I was terrified if they asked me. I wasn’t so terrified with the guys in my little East Coast Swing class; I knew they didn’t know anything about dancing either, so it was chill. But when I started going out to social dances with people I didn’t know, I was terrified basically the whole time.

Then it started to get easier, and I wasn’t so terrified when a guy would ask me to dance. That got sort of comfortable. But it took me awhile to get over the fear of doing the asking myself.

And this whole time I’m talking about me as a follow.

Well, by now, as a follow, I’ve pretty much conquered my fear of dancing with guys. I’ll basically dance with any lead who asks me.

But now, as I’m trying to focus more on leading, I find that I have to start the whole process over. Now I’m terrified to dance with followers.

Why should this be? It’s like I have two separate brains, a following brain and a leading brain. My following brain knows, for example, that it’s much nicer to be led a million basic steps for the entirety of a song than to be yanked through a bunch of crazy maneuvers by a lead who doesn’t know how to lead them well. But my leading brain is convinced that I need to do a bunch of crazy maneuvers or I’ll be a boring lead. What’s with this dancing schizophrenia?

What’s weird is that I’m actually more comfortable leading guys than leading girls. Even though most of the guys I dance with are really hard to lead, while the girls are nice and comfy. Maybe it’s because if a guy is not a good follower, I figure he’s not going to judge my leading skills; I know the girls know the difference between a good lead and a bad one, and I’m well aware that I’m not a good one. Or maybe it’s just because I’m more used to dancing with men than with women; I’m used to how men feel and how they move, while women feel and move a lot differently. And it could just be because I’m used to dancing with these particular individuals, and not with the others.

But I know that my leading won’t get any better if I don’t try dancing with followers who know what they’re doing. And that’s just a really scary thing for me. Just like when I started out dancing as a follower, when I lead, I’m terrified to ask girls to dance, and I’m terrified when they ask me. There’s maybe two or three girls in my scene with whom I’ve danced enough not to be terrified of them. But going up to some random stranger of a follow and asking her to dance? Terrifying.

Well, I know what I need to do. I just need to make myself do it. I need to make a deal with myself to ask at least one follower I don’t know to dance, at least once during the evening. I need to remind myself constantly that it’s better to be boring than to be rough and awkward. And the other thing I need to do is keep learning new things to lead.

It’s almost like I’m a new dancer. So leads, you can chime in here any time. What’s your best advice for someone who’s just starting out as a leader?


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