Facing my nightmare
I'm putting myself out there this weekend.
A few weeks ago, I shared that one of my recurring nightmares is being on stage and not knowing the choreography in the school musical.
In real life, the moment I hear the catchy rhythm and that first “Ohhhh!” of The Wobble, I vacate the dance floor.
One of my closest mom friends joined a high energy dance troupe called The Bad Mom Krewe and suggested we do it together. I lovingly declined without hesitation, thinking “over my dead body.”
And yet, when a beloved friend from grad school told me he wanted me to be in the 10-person bhangra dance at his 350-person wedding, I initially said yes.
I seriously reconsidered when I dreamt of being back in my high school’s production of Guys and Dolls and flubbing the footwork. I journaled about telling my friend no, debating whether it was just too much pressure, too big of an ask in a season of life that can already feel overwhelming. I talked about it in therapy.
Ultimately, my desire to show up for my friend, to celebrate him and his marriage in this culturally significant way overshadowed my insecurities.
Now I’ve been practicing for weeks, watching and rewatching the helpful tutorial videos the groom’s sister created and uploaded into Dropbox.
I began committing them to memory only to realize I’d learned the moves backward, mirroring her like in a yoga class instead of realizing that as she lifted her right leg, I was supposed to do the same with mine.
I flipped the tutorial videos on the horizontal axis and shared them with the other dancers. A diligent student, I took the assignment seriously, coming up with a numbered list of questions for our Zoom meeting.
Here’s what delights and surprises me: I’ve thoroughly enjoyed practicing.
Ever since Ms. Dorner taught us the Anything Goes choreography freshman year, I fumbled through learning any new dance steps, worried I wouldn’t be able to commit the moves to memory. I feared messing up, making a fool of myself, failing the group and ruining the dance.
Choreography doesn’t come naturally to me, and I suspect I have to practice more than most to feel competent. But even once I learned the moves in the high school shows, I never let myself just enjoy dancing. I was always in my thinking brain, meticulously remembering the next step rather than being present in my body.
I’d operated from insecurity instead of delight.
As I’ve practiced this time, I’ve gotten so into it that the elaborate moves get me overheated, even when I’m in a sports bra and gym shorts. I will be sweating in my choli and lehenga. I was so concerned about pit stains, I went back to the tailor a second time, asking her to widen the armpits even more.
When I went to pick up the clothes today, I locked myself out of my car while checking my tire pressure. As I waited for Xiaobs to pick me up, I casually practiced my moves in a parking lot on a bustling corner of Carrollton Avenue, using my tire pressure gauge as a makeshift lightsaber (the groom is a Star Wars nerd).
A man at a red light rolled down the window and yelled across the intersection, “You’re looking good! Keep it up!” Instead of feeling self-conscious at having been seen, I was utterly charmed.
This time, the delight has seeped in. Maybe it’s because I’m older. Maybe because the dance is in service of someone I love. Maybe it’s because it’s a part of a culture that isn’t my own and I get to enjoy this journey of discovery. It’s probably a combination of all three. Whatever the reason, I find myself smiling as I think about it.
I’ve probably watched the (flipped) tutorial video 75 times at this point. I’ve got the moves down. I might mess up at the wedding this weekend, but I’m thrilled to be putting myself out there, and I’m going to keep smiling.
Much love,
Lelia
Today’s Get Sh*t Done Day
in Partnership with Salon22
Join me today at 9am CT for a virtual co-working date!
Today! Thursday, September 11
9am-10am
Zoom
Tuesday, September 16
10-12:30
Salon22: 2407 Bienville St.
A Final Note
Have you ever loved something you thought you’d hate or used to be scared of? I’d be delighted to hear about it in the comments!
Also, each time you “like” an essay, it lets me and other readers know that we’re not alone in our experience and fosters a sense of community.
Please “like” the post below if you relate or enjoyed reading it. :)



I LOVE THIS <3 IN ALL THE WAYS
so well written!
So pretty