Sometimes people lose their rhythm in times of stress or injury. They are unsure how to find the rhythm again, fearful it is gone, unsure how to listen to the music of their heart and learn to dance again. This is my story, of finding my way back one step at a time.
photo by Josh Lieberman
Once upon a time I was a dancer, my heart, body and soul moving as one in a Lindy circle on the floor. Following or leading, I knew what life had for me for 2-3 minute musical intervals were in a series of 6-8 count steps: rock step-triple step-step-step-triple step. The soothing familiarity of that rhythm was taken out of my life over a year ago once the pain in my hips and legs started to be much more than I could handle.
I am unsure what had caused the injury. I had several dance incidents where the damage could have occurred: bad spotters at a workshop dropped me on my tailbone, my foot was stomped at Frankie Manning‘s birthday bash in NYC, and I had broken my arm in 2007 that had never healed properly. All I knew a year ago was that if I didn’t stop dancing life was only going to get worse.
Now a year later, I find the pain is gone and structurally I am more sound. Physically at least.
My hip had been locked and pinched off the nerves in my left leg. As the hip unlocked, I began to feel and to cry at the intensity of the pain now radiating from my body. During that opening process the pain overwhelmed my system and I fell into a mild situational depression. The electrical system blew a fuse and I was left feeling very unlike the energetic dancing, mischief maker my friends rely upon.
I knew something was wrong. I love life. I mean LOVE life, the world, even you and I probably don’t even know who YOU are. I love the aliveness of everything around me and how I am honored at being able to interact and explore this weird place called life. Yet after I had been on over-the-counter painkillers for a month and seeing a chiropractor, I felt listless, dull and the world seemed to be distant from me, like a long lost fairy land where I had once danced.
WARNING BELLS rang in my head, I was losing board games to my friends left and right- an unusual occurrence that persisted for about three months. Somewhere in the second month I realized, “My brain feels wrong,” as I told my sweetie. I went to my therapist who I hadn’t seen in forever. She agreed that I did not seem myself and made some natural remedy suggestions knowing that I dislike drugs and the pill popping fad.
I did the research, found the supplements and began to reclaim my brain from the overloaded system. My sweetie would say, in computer terms, that I started to reboot.
Pain still kept me from the dance floors, yet slowly, I started to win board games again. My sweetie and I had a habit of playing at least one game of Dominion a night for awhile. What was an easy game for me to win before the pain, was now clouded and unclear. Strategy eluded me and I would get my butt whooped night after night to see, would today be different? Today I might feel a bit like my old self, today I might win a game, or focus on my life or feel like getting out of bed.
Slowly and surely, with diet, chiropractic care and gentle exercise, my brain function started to feel like a well oiled machine instead of a rusted out junker. I am able to focus and have felt the return of ambition as I am able to focus on goals, on my writing, on anything outside the pain that had crippled me, body mind and soul. While I was in utter agony I found it comforting that the two things I most wanted to do were to write and to dance. I guess pain does help cut through different clouds we have in our minds so we can see the heart of some matters.
Last week, I tried dancing. I tracked down and old friend Chris Chapman, a Lindy hop guru, after a class he was teaching (where my sweetie is taking classes! In his words “This way I will be ready to dance when you are feeling able to dance again”) Chris had noticed I was gone from the scene and was excited I wasn’t gone for good. I asked shyly, “Will you help me see where I am, help me see if I can dance yet?”
With no music, just the rhythms of life, we started. He started with some Charleston and than moved on from there. I was hyper aware of my body. It was afraid. It remembered how painful it had been to dance the last time I had danced. How the pain shot from foot to leg to hip to everywhere in life. Chris sends me into a swing out, no pain. We do hand to hand Charleston, no pain. We do some Lindy circles, no pain. The only thing wrong was my stamina, I was so winded and it hadn’t even been 2 minutes yet. I stopped Chris and thanked him.
Later that night at home, icing my back from the delayed pain (which was gone 24 hours later), my sweetie told me how everyone in the beginners class had stopped getting their stuff and just stared as Chris and I when we started dancing. How they looked on as I was oblivious. I chuckled, how far I had been into my own head, I hadn’t noticed anyone or anything other than the sensations in my body.
I still have a ways to go until I am dancing again, until I feel my brain will be as sunny as it once was. The fear of pain is still stuck in my body and mind. I am aware of the fear though and I am actively seeking ways to help myself through it. My soul wants to dance!
I have always liked the idea that have to go through things to get out, I think it is Frank Herbert’s fault and his Bene Gesseritt litany against fear:
“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.
Only I will remain.”
Until I am able to turn my inner eye to see the things this fear has wrought, I will seek to study the rhythm of my body’s fear. See if I can get the fear to dance with me in a 6 or 8 count pattern. I’ll turn on some Basie and ask fear to dance to my favorite song “Jumping at the Woodside.” Maybe after that dance it will go look for another partner? Or maybe I’ll just say ‘No Thank You’ if fear asks for another dance?
Have you ever experienced an injury that took time and mental power to heal from? What did you do to stay healthy for yourself? What kept you going?
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Peacefulldawn, thank you for writing about this topic. Like Cheryl above, I could go on about this topic but I will try to keep it brief. I was born with congetial heart disease and in result have had to have four major heart surgeries, the most recent one was in high school.
Recovering from my last surgery when I had part of one of my arteries that was already synthetic replaced, I was bed ridden for a long period of time. In result the muscles in my legs atrophied. Due to I was stubborn, or according to my mother reckless, I had them take me off of the cocktail of morphine and codeine as soon as it was legally possible and had a nurse assist me walking at night to slowly regain my strength.
This continued for several months, I remember my first month home I was so angry that I ran out of stamina to walk that I literally crawled up the stairs to my room to spite my body that was saying no. This stubbornness earned me an emergency surgery at the UCLA medical center when one of the titanium wires lining my rib-cage punctured the skin of my chest after I pushed my body too hard one day.
I know it was illogical but after all of this learning to dance was a terrifying experience for me at first. I was exempt from physical education most of my life so I had little background in moving my own body in an athletic manner. (I remember Jeremy Otth asking once during a lesson if I played any sports growing up and I had to awkwardly answer no.) In addition all this learning movement which felt awkward to me at first brought back memories of shambling around in a hospital, using a nurse as a crutch with an iv attached to my arm, trying to learn how to walk again.
All I can say is kudos and keep doing what you are doing. Due to my past involvement with the American Heart Association, I’ve known a lot of friends and other people who let their personal injuries weaken their personal lives. I sometimes think why I work so hard at swing dancing is because its a constant reminder to myself that I am saying no to going down that path of fear and insecurities my past experiences try to lull me into. Sometimes you just have to accept the fear, look in its eye and laugh in its face.
What a story of strength and power. Thank you so much for sharing and for taking care of yourself as well. I am finding that strength and stamina are slow to return – YET THEY DO RETURN if you remain friendly towards them and treat them as long time friends. When I was so angry at my body no true healing could happen. Now healing is feeling more playful and dare I say it FUN (even if it’s not dancing….YET).
I am grateful that you stopped and shared this story with me and my readers. May both of our journeys find some ease in new found internet friends who understand what we have been through.
love
dawn
Wow, thank you for writing this.
I had a very similar experience with my low back last year. Out of “nowhere,” tension escalated, and one day I was unable to get out of bed without excruciating pain.
Immediately before, I’d been this really good dancer! It was a part of my identity.
Then the very next day, all of it was in the toilet. I could stand and lay down. No sitting, walking, and DEFINITELY no dancing.
Seeing the chiro 3x a week, PT, and constant icing helped me get back to about 75% in 3 months. During those 3 months, I danced a little, in very small ways, very aware of the pain. At dances, I endured the embarrassment of turning lots of people down for fear they would hurt me or just not have a good time.
It was very mentally challenging to have my greatest skill taken away. There very thing that helped me gain so much self confidence.
Anyhow, it’s a long story, but I’m glad to know I’m not the only one.
THANK YOU for sharing. It was hard to bare these details but it felt right somehow. I am happy you are working consciously on dancing and caring for yourself as a follow. Hope to see you at an event some day!
I’m in Seattle. Perhaps I’ll see you at Savoy Swing Jam? :-)
I am going to try and stop by to see some friends compete around 3pm. (I have to work earlier in the day) See you Saturday!
Hi. I just found this blog very randomly in my searches for Lindy related material. I just want to say this is a very powerful post. I don’t run into very many of these when reading about Lindy Hop. It’s quite a story, and I appreciate you sharing it like this.
If it’s alright with you, I’d like to share this through my blog’s Facebook page where I’ve been sharing lindy related links and videos.
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Wandering-Pondering-JSAlmonte/174327752611976
I just want o make sure it’s ok, since this seems very personal. If you don’t want me to, I’d totally understand.
Please share! I am honored that you found my experience useful. I have a couple other posts about lindy as well. I am slowing converting my writing onto this blog. I am still in recovery phase but be assured dancing related writing is still in my future!
Thanks for stopping by- hope to see you out on the floor someday!
love
dawn
I have so much to say but I will try to keep it brief…thank you so much for opening up and exploring publicly how this pain has transformed aspects of your life. Here’s an alternate take on it: your fear is actually borne from your love of life, rather than being in opposition to it (although it can oppose your ability to live your life fully if you let it). Essentially, if I’m interpreting your experience accurately, your fear leads to decisions which limit your participation in activities that are meaningful to you, such as dancing and board games…the fear is a logical response to the fact that your pain has taken one of those activities away. Let’s consider an alternate world where you became in pain, couldn’t dance, lost your love of board games, and DIDN’T experience a state of fear due to this situation, that would mean you had TRULY lost your love for life, right? In other words, I would not see this fear as something that you necessarily need to conquer or let go away, but something you can see as a natural byproduct of an experience which severely limited your ability to do stuff you love, which sucks because…you LOVE doing stuff you love, and you love life!! So, in my opinion, the pain is the problem, not the fear of the pain – the fear of the pain is a truly understandable response to the fact that pain sucks. I hope this makes sense. Often people who have to live through pain put so much pressure on themselves to get past it, but it might be helpful to maybe see the fear as a sort of protective armor which might help you make different decisions later – for example, maybe now if you start feeling some hip pain, you will see a doctor more quickly rather than waiting, as you did before….
I have had some experiences like this, and I too had to do what you did, which is to make yourself do the thing you love every day until you feel “yourself” again – I love your persistence and your poetic reflection (especially the concept of “dancing with” your pain). Sending BIG HUGS to you from California!
CHERYL! I miss you! Going to a CLUB ORANGE event tonight. Wish you were here! Thanks for reading and sharing your experience. I really appreciate your input and insight.
Aww thanks dear, miss you too and so glad you’re feeling more life-full lately! (yes, I made that word up, hehe) I heard about the Valentine making party, so so glad the tradition lives on…hugs!!!
We are planning a trip down your way at some point this year. I will keep you posted as I’d love to see your new scene!
Dawn, my dear friend, I am in awe of your writing. You spoke of what runs through my heart & soul each time I step upon the dance floor. Fear has a voice that echos in my head: “will my leg work this time; you will look like a fool for you are not healthy yet; they are all better than you; you can’t do this; you are too old to re-learn.”
Fear and pain are often partners who marry. They then join forces to rob of us of the enjoyment of the seasons of our life. It is good to write of your fear. I wrote a poem to pain once in an attempt to make friends and bargain with it.
It took me 14 years physically recover and then to banish that fear and pain.
What did I do to stay healthy within myself and keep going? Go look into your mirror my friend for what worked best for me was finding loving, kind, encouraging people like YOU!
Thanks MB! Friends are wonderful. Thanks for reading and sharing!
Your heart speaks …beautifully!
Thank you for sharing such a moving and personal story. I look forward to meeting you even more now. :)
Aw shucks, thanks! Hope to see you out dancing when I am able to go again. You can keep track here/twitter/fb about when I am likely to be going.
Rock on lady, cant wait to see you out on the dance floor again :)