To Whom It May Concern

I'm nearing the end of another improv dance challenge, and this song has been in my rotation for the past 90 days or so.  I dread it.  Not because it's a bad song -- I did like it well enough to purchase it, after all.  But because for me this has been a wallowing song.

A wallowing song is a song I put on when I am feeling depressed or overwhelmed and I would like to wallow in it a little bit before I go out into the world as if nothing has happened.  This particular song featured heavily in the Year of Wallowing, right after the divorce.  Because music is a powerful emotional trigger, every time I hear it I am taken back to that year.

The rules of the challenge dictated that once a song was selected for me, I was stuck with it for the entire challenge.  So every time this song came up on my rotation,  I tried to dance but ended up doing more wallowing.  I think I described the quality of my dance as "trying not to cry" every time.

This week, though, I think I finally shed the last edges of wallowing.  The day I danced this song, I was rushed, not thinking much, and I put it on and just started moving.  About halfway through I realized that I felt different.  I finally got to that other quality of the song -- the hopefulness and the optimism.   I relaxed with it because that is really my nature -- hopeful and optimistic.  It has been a weird, ridiculous, bad time in dating world lately, but that is only one part of life.  And eventually, I am sure, it will come around to the rest of my life, which is pretty good right now.

Meanwhile, why not sing about it ---

Bellydance Changes Lives

I love this picture.  This is me just about to do my first solo performance, clowning around with my travel mates who were all ready to go and support me.  The dance technique in this photo is questionable, but the joy is real.

Before bellydance, this picture would not have been possible.  To appear in front of camera-wielding people with nothing covering my abdomen or my upper arms?  And to spin around in front of them while laughing my face off? Unfathomable.

This is just one of the many ways bellydance has changed my life.  I've written about it before in this blog -- how it launched me into a freer exploration of the world around me, how it showed me the way to letting go, how it reopened the door to my other creative loves.

Later this week, troupe and I will be dancing at a festival in fabulous Las Vegas.  Dancing.  In public. For an audience.  In frickin' Vegas.  The me of 5 years ago would not recognize this woman, but she would want to know her.  Thanks to bellydance, I not only know this woman, I am her.

It's not been all flickery sunshine and dancing on rainbows, to be sure.  I've been clawing my way out of a pretty difficult dance rut lately, trying to find more moments of fun than frustration.  Even in the rut, though, I look at this picture and know that my life has changed.

And I have a short number of days and hours to drill some choreography and pack my bag.  Viva Las Vegas.

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Should you be so inclined to support your local blogger and her dance sisters, here's a message from the troupe:

Help Send Zahara Fusion to VEGAS, Baby!

Zahara Fusion, the student troupe out of Hip Circle Studio, is headed out on their first out-of-state performance adventure to the Las Vegas Bellydance Intensive - a festival that pulls dancers in from all over the country! Taking advantage of this great opportunity requires airfare, lodging, costuming, and more. Get in on the action by participating in our fundraiser! Here's the deal...

Donate $10 or more and receive a limited-edition "Bellydance Changes Lives" magnetic bumper "sticker" designed by our very own Desiree!

Donate $50 or more and receive, in addition to the bumper "sticker", an invite to our After-Vegas Bash, scheduled for Sunday, 9/20 from 7:30-9:30 pm featuring nibbles, sips, and a display of our set from Vegas (live or via video, TBD).

Donations can be made in cash in-studio, or via credit card here. (you'll specify the amount)

Thanks so much for helping this Vegas magic happen!

Pictures of You

I am at my mother's house, and on the walk down the hall to retrieve my book, I saw it.  A last remaining picture of myself and the Ex together.  It's a small picture, tucked up on a top shelf of a tall bookcase, and shows the two of us standing together outside the door of the first home we purchased together.  The door is heavy, dark and old.  The place was a vintage condo in a beautifully maintained building and it was on the very edge of what we could afford.  I remember a brief panic when we made the decision to buy it -- I was freaked out by the absolute permanence of ownership and mortgages and all that.

In the picture, I am dressed in the way I dressed for much of my life -- to hide.  A long skirt just a smidgen too big for me, and over it a man's shirt that was so large the fabric only touched my body at the shoulders and from there hung in billows over me.  I am holding a man's suit coat in my hand -- of a similar size to the shirt.  I have one hand on the door, my body is angled toward the Ex and I am smiling freely.  I know why -- because I felt utterly safe.  The frightening permanence of home ownership very quickly got rolled up into the absolute comfort of stability.  A place to live, a stable job at a large company, a partner to share this life with, clothes that covered me absolutely -- it was all part of my need to be and feel protected.

The moment that picture was taken, I thought I couldn't be any happier.  When I saw that picture today, I paused to take it in and remember myself as I was then.  I have a deep affection for that young woman, but I am so glad that I am miles away from her now.  Not only have I (mostly) gotten rid of the ill-fitting sacks I used to wear, but I am decidedly not safe in the way I used to define it.  Renting a place, working for myself, with no partner (yet) to help me with any of it.  In my life now I am more open to being hurt (emotionally, financially, mentally) than I ever have been.  But I am so much happier than that young woman.

At least I am today. Sitting on my mother's back porch watching butterflies and bumble bees cavort in her unbelievable garden, I am happier.  And, unlike the young woman in that picture, today I know that this moment is enough.  So I will celebrate it.

Episode 4 -- Mercury in Retrograde

Let me be clear -- I do not believe my fortunes are governed by the relative position of a planet in space.  But, all the social media chatter about Mercury in retrograde brought me strange comfort when I found out I had to move.  After only 2 months.

It started with a health setback, and ended with a bloodless coup.  His parent had a massive heart attack*, and his other parent (the one with a progressive, debilitating illness) started to decline rapidly.  The family all came together, as families do.  Finances were examined, old hurts reopened, drama ensued.  I sent some concerned messages,  and went on with my plans to build a trellis for tomatoes on the balcony.

Somewhere in the family drama and financial reviews it was discovered that my friend didn't actually own the condo on paper.  It was owned by his parents.  And it was underwater.  Financial powers of attorney were signed and the place was put on the market.

I had to move.  Soon.

Anxious phone conversations happened.  What if.  Maybe.  Could be.  Possibly. None of it was true.  And I realize now, none of it had to do with the very real burden that was being placed on my life.  I asked for radio silence.  I turtled up and tried to think of what to do.  And inside my shell, I came to a realization:

It's over.

And I wrapped myself inside my shell and I wept like I hadn't done for a long time.  Exhausting, ugly, loud, wracking sobs.  Because in that moment the thing I knew I had lost was a true friend.  A person who, with all his faults, cared deeply for me at one time and helped me emerge into the person I am now.  I couldn't see a way to maintain a friendship when such a big part of it was this strange situation with the condo.

Mercury was in retrograde, and this part of my life was falling apart.  Even though I know that the planets had nothing to do with any of it, somehow there was comfort in knowing that just like this unique astrological positioning, this situation was temporary and would change.

*-- identifying details have been changed

Episode 3 -- Move In Day Premonition

My moving day started with a friend bringing me coffee and talking bellydance while I tried not to panic about the movers being late.  It ended with the guy I just started dating coming over with a bottle of wine and taking me out to dinner.  In between, other than the movers, I was on my own.

Once they got to my old place and started carrying everything out, everything collapsed into a blurry montage.  (Theme song, "Titanium.")  After the movers left and before the new guy came over, I had a few hours to myself.  I used up all my remaining adrenaline unpacking a few boxes, then finally paused to lean against my new kitchen counter and drink a glass of water.

I have made a huge mistake.

I shook my head and took a few deep breaths.  I looked out the window at the trees in the courtyard.  I walked out onto my balcony and thought about drinking coffee there in the morning.  But, when I walked back into the unit --

This is a mistake.  This will not end well.

I'm Supposed to Be Done with All This

Before I drove to my hometown for the weekend, I have a text message exchange with a dear friend. We were talking about visiting the places where we grew up, the oddness of it.  I talked about that parallel worlds feeling I always get when I go back to the hometown.  The feeling of --what would have happened if I had never left?   When everything was new and broken, I went back to that parallel worlds place with extreme longing, wanting to find a way to launch myself into that world where I never would have taken the path that ultimately led to this hurt. 

Eventually, though, happiness emerged and I became more and more grateful for the world I am in.  Hurt and all, it has led to some significant changes and cherished friendships.  So I drove home, still peeking at that parallel world, no desire to dive into it.  

For the holiday, we went to see an outdoor symphony concert.  Beautiful music, beautiful setting, and time with family.  I looked forward to it.  Why then, somewhere between the concertmaster walking out and the beginning of the first piece, did I find it so hard to breathe?  Why was I on the verge of tears for most of the concert?  And what was up with the long moment in the bathroom at intermission, breathing deeply into my hands to calm down?  

Radiation recall.  That's what was up.  Symphonies, operas, all things classical music -- that is the Ex's world.  I hadn't been to anything like that since we split up.  And there I was, looking into another parallel world -- the one where nothing changed, and I still listened to backstage symphony stories and scheduled life around the concert season.  Radiation recall made me vulnerable, wanting again to sink into the comfort of an imaginary parallel world.  

Fortunately, although time doesn't completely remove the weakened places, it does teach you how to heal faster.  A little breathing, a little music, a little grounding in the present moment -- and I was able to let the parallel world go and appreciate my fortunate now.  I'm back again to the place where my friend and I left our text message conversation:  

Me: Amazing, isn't it? I always get that parallel worlds feeling when I go back. Like -- what would I be like if I had stayed? I'm glad I didn't.

Friend: Yah me too. Glad I did not and glad you did not too.

Episode 2 -- Know Your Motivation

"What do you mean?" he said, "You dither back and forth more than anyone I know."
"Maybe," I responded, "But once I've made a decision I move quickly to make it happen."
He made that hrmph noise in the back of his throat that I think means, "You're right but I don't want to actually say you're right."

I had decided to move.  I was in the process of moving, and all those things you have to do to relocate yourself.  Selling a place, purging old items, sorting out mail forwarding, trying to figure out where stuff is in the new neighborhood.  I think I had been complaining about my real estate agent not being aggressive enough, which led to a conversation about the relative ease with which I make a decision.

I had decided to move -- to his condo.  He didn't live there.  He lived in a beautiful house with his partner and her child, somewhere in the same suburb.  (To this day, I have no idea where exactly.)  The reasons I gave were mostly convenience and financial.  He was charging me a way-below-market rent. The place was smaller, easier to maintain.  I wouldn't have to pay the crazy property taxes of my current town.  I could save money, build my practice and travel.

That's not why I did it, though.  Those were the surface reasons, and they all worked in favor of the undertow reason:  I loved him, and I wanted to be closer to him in whatever way I could.

Another conversation, from when I was still dithering about the move:
"I'm just not sure it's the right decision."
"Why not?" he said. "You'll save money, you'll have a secure place to live, you can do all your dance things . . ."
"That's not what I'm worried about," I said.  "I'm worried that if I move there -- into your space -- that I'll just stay hung up on you."
"Well, that would be alright with me."

And it must have been alright with me, too, because I went ahead and moved.  Surface, undertow, and everything in between.