I feel like I've changed a lot since the beginning of the year. Maybe "a lot" is the wrong way to describe it; the fundamentals are still similar. But, around March, I noticed that I started doing something that I'd never willingly done before.
I danced in public. And enjoyed it.
I am (was?) painfully self-conscious, almost to the point where I'm sometimes convinced that I have avoidant personality disorder (mostly kidding, folks). I've been this way for years; probably since the end of high school. In general, I don't like doing things that bring attention my way. The vulnerability of simply dancing at a wedding really freaked me out because I didn't want to give anyone fodder to make fun of my arrhythmic rump-shaking. Perpetuating this pattern of thought was that I knew it wasn't healthy. I wanted to come across as confident... 'cause confidence is sexy, right? Tight control of my immediate surroundings became compensatory.
Recently, someone compared my actions to that of a benevolent dictator. It hurt because it was true. My version of compromise was a short list of acceptable options handed down when I was scared that my life wasn't going exactly the way I envisioned it. Things that I desperately wanted to work fell apart because of the underlying worry-rumblings. The harder I tried, the more out of control things became. It's like my life was a Gusher, and I was slowly squeezing it until the oozy high-fructose corn syrup mix finally erupted.
Anyway! One spring night I seemed to forget that I was too embarrassed to dance. I had fun. So much fun that I've since danced many more times in many public places. I've even started singing! To me this is a big fucking deal; it's a tangible way that I'm starting to let go and breathe already.
I can't change the fact that I like structure. It lets my never-calm brain run smoothly - trust me on that one. But I can't do the Gnome Jong Il thing anymore 'cause the mental rigidity gets in the way of my sweet moves.
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