What Are We Even Doing Here If We Aren't Dancing?
a serious question from a deeply unserious person
Welcome to this tiny corner of the internet where an off-duty psychotherapist keeps the conversation going on how to make sense of this life thing we’re all doing. If you ever wondered what your therapist does off the clock—which, who among us hasn’t?—this is like that. Think of it as the adult equivalent of seeing your elementary school teacher at the grocery store picking out lemons. 🍋 (If that imagery alone, feels sticky for you, this would be the time to jump on that off-ramp) I typically oscillate between long-form psychoeducation pieces and narrative essays—sometimes I smush them together. I also do a biweekly podcast with my husband, roundups and a segment of brisk thoughts on music, TV, and film.
One thing before we jump in, I show up very much as myself here. Myself first, and all my other labels are secondary. If a therapist speaking candidly feels like too much to your system, that is absolutely is OK and this may not be the best particular newsletter for you.
I’ve written before about my absolute number one mental health strategy, my catchall: walking. And I love her. She’s a balm for all sorts of maladies. But, there is nothing like what we are exploring today. She’s fun, flirty, and always down to hang. Without a doubt, one of my favorite tools in my toolbox of life is and always will be dancing.
If walking bring regulation, dancing brings release.
I’ve come in and out of embracing this throughout my life. Times where I didn’t understand it’s power or thought it’s powers were reserved for special occasions, like weddings. I’ve come a long way since then. I’m almost at the point where I can dance at the drop of a hat to almost any song.
For instance, this Tuesday after finishing my weekly yoga practice, still sitting in Sukhasana on a block, I flip on my new the only way I voluntarily use AI, the DJ feature on Spotify.
“What’s good, Kaitlyn?”
And then this one:
Not only is this a totally bop for my ears, it has this line, “We’re too busy dancing to get knocked off our feet.”
Zen state to dancing on a yoga block in less than 60 seconds…way less.
When I became sober, I was worried I may lose access to my dancing self. The only time I can remember dancing stone cold sober as an adult was at a wedding while I was pregnant. Sad, but ultimately true.
Would I be able to really let go and feel what I used to feel in the sober light of day?
Early on in my sober curious days, I spent the weekend with a friend who had just moved to a town new to us both. One night, as things were drawing toward a close, we walked by a bustling bar with a dance floor—very 70’s vibes in music and decor. Couches flanked the technicolor lit up floor. I had been surprised how great I’d felt all night. So content drinking my NA’s at dinner and while playing ping-pong with new friends, but dancing felt like a new level of vulnerability to embark on while teetotalin’.
Even if I wanted to bail, which I didn’t entirely, I would have been outvoted by the rest of the people in our group. We walked in, I grabbed a soda water with lime, and took my body out to the dance floor. Slowly, but surely it came back to me. What’s always been in me.
I had a similar experience a few weeks later at a silent disco on a trip to Mexico, on a day that would later become my sober date. This may sound strange to hear, but knowing I could dance without drinking alcohol was probably a bigger part of my surrender into sobriety than I was willing to admit until just now in this very moment.
I should probably state explicitly that I’m not a “dancer.” No formal training or education in it. Just someone who loves how it makes them feel.
When I look back, I notice where it’s been a friend to me all my life. It’s presence, or lack thereof, was associated to something. Marking moments in time.
In high school, I would have friends over and we’d spend all night dancing and lip syncing to music in my basement.1
I have a good friend from growing up who is an incredible dancer. I’d watch her dance any chance I could and inevitably I would go into a trance. Mesmerized. Moved to tears and buzzing with life each time I saw what she could do.
Knowing what I know now about the body and feelings, it makes more sense to me why I would be so deeply affected by dance. I was watching expression communicated through bodies. Words only go so far, after all.
This is cringe-adjacent to admit, which means I must, but as I didn’t really date until college, school dances were the first place I experienced any physical closeness with boys. A slow dance, invariably to All My Life by K-Ci & Jojo, being the first time I felt a pitter-patter in my heart that wasn’t delivered via Kevin Costner.2 Accessing a slightly less contained, less Sunday school version of myself during any 50 Cent song. Now that I’ve written this out, maybe that was a wonderful way to first experience that type of intimacy.
As I grew up, it became less about who I was dancing with and more about the physical release of everything I hold in my body.
When it came time to throw the most expensive party of my life, aka our wedding, I knew dancing would be the focal point for me. I told our wedding photographer I didn’t really want to pose for many pictures so as to maximize dancing time. He looked at me like I was nuts. We got married at Camp Wandawega—if you’re insta hasn’t been spammed yet by this place, it probably will be now—and let’s just say this place is a photographer’s dream.
Ultimately, I lost that battle. Even though we didn’t make it through the entire playlist I had planned when the time ordinance hit, he was probably right. Not a picture in the bunch I regret having…and in the end we met in the middle and we just danced while he took pictures.
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F14242315-e441-45f1-8dd3-85562b57fdfd_750x526.jpeg)
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fa765f574-af7a-4f90-8f0a-23a323c343f4_1242x822.jpeg)
Then a few years later, when Archie was an infant and I was struggling with postpartum anxiety, I’d set a timer for 3p every day to put on a song and dance with him. It was a life saver during a dark time for me.
(you may be thinking, “I love this gal’s writing, but her ability to get a video in frame is quite poor.” First of all, thank you! Secondly, nope. Just trying to minimize exposure of our little one’s image to interwebs for now, but I can assure you, he is just as cute as you are imagining multiplied by infinity…and then some.)3
I have, with a very straight face, asked my clients in all states of emotional disrepair, any chance you could find a way to dance today?
This is not just me going rogue, there are some real mental health benies to dancing: improved mood, increased confidence, decreased rumination on distressing thoughts, feeling more capable of coping with chronic health conditions, and help decrease dissociation from one’s own body4; a worthy alternative to other physical activity for children and adolescents5; and studies suggest maybe even a superior one for us all6.
If the thing being felt in any one moment is depressive—for me, this shows up as heaviness, sluggishness, and hopelessness; basically, let’s nap indefinitely type energy—and I mention something like dancing as an intervention, even to myself, the response tends to be, “Didn’t you just hear what I said? I want to do literally nothing lady, and you want me to dance? Have you lost your mind?”
If this is your barrier of entry7 for introducing more dance into your toolkit of daily life, I have something you may (and may not) want to hear. It’s a tool utilized in a type of therapy, Dialetical Behavior Thearpy (DBT). It’s called opposite action—in recovery circles, you may be familiar with a similar approach called contrary action.
Fellow mental health professional here on Substack,
, mentioned this in her recent newsletter When Bad Things Happen, I Cope Like a Child.8 Designed by psychologist Dr. Marsha Linehan, DBT can be utilized by anyone, but is aimed at managing the more intense emotional dysregulation and relational issues one can face.I found a description of DBT that is too perfect, leaving no reason for me to try to summarize it, “DBT assumes that clients are doing the best they can and they want to get better. Clients learn that emotions are normal and natural. They learn new skills and learn to apply them in all contexts of their lives. Clients may not have caused all their problems, but they learn to solve all of them anyway. Clients cannot fail in DBT.”9
I don’t know if I’m hormonal or if that just really hits, but I’m teary-eyed.
The premise of opposite action begins with the assertion that each emotion is connected with a behavior/impulse/action.
Anger tells us to get our body ready to attack/defend.
Fear tells us there may be danger present and to react accordingly (fight, flight, freeze or fawn, perhaps).
Depression tells our body we are about to be idle.
Like a lot of mental health terms, depression has become a pretty loaded term. It’d be easy to forget it’s root isn’t all negatively coded. Depress means to reduce the level or strength of something. One of it’s synonyms is to “slow down.” I would argue this isn’t the worst reminder to have in our current climate.
One huge caveat I like to give when talking about this skill is sometimes the feeling and the resulting impulse are exactly right—no opposite action necessary. Feeling angry and defending yourself when someone is harming you or running when something threatens you can be life saving. Some depressing of a system after running around like a maniac may be the best course of action at times—like maybe we could cool our jets a bit?
When opposite action becomes useful is when we feel stuck. When the associated urge feels less like a response and more like continuing to dig a hole that is plenty deep.
You can read more about different types of opposite action here, but for our purposes we’re talking depression. The opposite action for depression is to get active.
To move. To dance, mayhaps?
Like most strategies, this isn’t a “take my word for it” kind of situation. Some things at certain moments slot into place and voilà. Other times, its Dud City. It helps to go in with willingness and curiosity, but beyond that it’s trial and error, baby. It may not be sexy, but at least it’s true.
Ways to work it (put your thang down, flip it and reverse it) in
Here are some simple ways to find an opening to dance in your life:
Throw on your favorite playlist to help get you through your morning routine
Dance in the car10
After dinner dance parties—good for digestion and just good fun
Swap your workout for a dance session at home. 10 out 10 recommend this one.
If you need more structure then just bopping around, in-person classes or YouTube tutorials all the way!
For my sober friends if going to a dance club or bar where alcohol is served doesn’t serve you, I invite you to get creative. I just googled “Denver+sober+dance” and got a bunch of hits. There was a sober pride dance party just this weekend here and a friend sent me a silent disco hike! There are places out there for you.
Or maybe, we just start by watching dance. Here are some of memorable dance moments from the internet, TV and film for me: snacks and My Sharona at the gas station || Beyoncé, always Beyoncé || more Beyoncé || an unhinged JG || this is me || going to the pool || at first I was afraid... || legends || Goo Goo Muck || cousin || having his baby
So, truly. I ask again, what are we doing here—on this planet, in these bodies—if we aren’t dancing?
Questions for you:
Song that always gets you dancing?
Where do you find dance in your daily life?
What has dancing meant to you throughout your life?
Most vivid dancing memories.
Favorite dance moment from the internet, movies, TV, music?
You can find more info and my full disclaimer on my about page here. Abridged version: I’m a therapist, but not your therapist—even if you are a client of mine ~hi, dear one!~ this isn’t a session. dialoguing is an educational and informational newsletter only, not a substitute for mental health treatment.
Any comments, questions, suggestions, please feel free to email me at dialoguingsubstack@gmail.com—or if you’re reading this via email you can just hit reply and send me a message. Love hearing from you for any and all reasons!
Lastly, the summer tends to be a time where things slow down for my practice. I’m excited to announce at this time I have space on my caseload for 1 or 2 coaching clients. Check out my about page (near the bottom) for more info.
|*|*|*| Catch this one before it goes behind the paywall:
Video of this does exist somewhere. Lord help me if I ever digitize these.
Anyone else first experience love with K Cost?
As always seems to be the case, Archie gave us some lines for this week. I had shared with literally no one what my plan for this week’s newsletter would be and yet I hear that for our daily dose of child directed play before bed he wanted to dance. He even woke up early one morning and said to my husband, “Remember what I said last night? In the morning, we dance.” Apparently he requested after the goodnight kisses were exchanged, a promise to dance first thing in the morning.
‘Free moving’ dance has healing benefits for mental health by UCLA Health
Dancing may be better than other exercise for improving mental health from The University of Sydney
If you feels some other emotional roadblocks to dancing, like fear of embarrassment or lack of confidence, this article has some helpful guidance.
A really sweet, encouraging read and you can see me in the comments talking about how I sleep with a stuffed animal
While being safe, ya turds!
thumbnail image credit: Photo by Fidel Fernando on Unsplash
Oh good lord, this piece hit and now I'm sitting at my desk fighting happy tears over this beautiful video of you dancing with baby Archie. Such a sweet moment that you are very generous to share with us. Totally agree with your dancing philosophy! Last week I made a playlist of songs I always find myself singing to the cat (with improv lyrics about how pretty she is). I had a really horrible morning and put this playlist on... then found myself dancing in the car to Copacabana ("Her name was Gracie, she was a show cat..."). Like, how can you possibly be mad with this idiotic earworm on?
Dancing in my bedroom to N’Sync “tearin up my heart” is a core memory…the first time I felt some sort of obsession/crazy crush (I’d still crush on JT even despite is DWI blunder). Overall, agree though…I can’t imagine my life without music and moving my body! Where we goin’ dancing next?!?!