Dance Me Free

One of the first questions people ask one another when they meet is “What do you do?” The implication is what to do you do for work or as a job. But what if you don’t have a specific job title or position, or you’re a stay at home parent, or you just got laid off, or your job simply doesn’t define you?

After leaving my job as a teacher, I really had to learn who I was without it. It was scary because I spent so much time defining myself by my career, and feeling as if that was an integral part of “my being”.

I started wondering if I was a nobody without my job. I had worked very hard every day in my teaching career and was very passionate about it. But I didn’t realize how much of myself I had associated with it, as if that was the entirety of who I was. In letting go of it, where did that leave me as a person? It felt like everything I did to get into that line of work and the years of work I put into it was just suddenly erased and that I was also erased with it.

The thing is, I was still working really hard on bettering myself when I wasn’t teaching. I was taking care of my health, my days were filled with appointments, studying about mind body connection, encouraging myself to keep going, to keep believing, when others made me feel like I should give up. I was trying out different healing modalities, committing to regular therapies and rehabilitation, and making crucial decisions on what worked for me, which practitioners were best suited for my needs. This took a different kind of work that I had never experienced before. But it seemed that other people, unless they had gone through it, would never be able to understand. Why did I feel this need to have to explain to them?

It took courage, discipline, faith and patience, especially when you’re a go-getter like me, to do this kind of deep dive into yourself. There was so much I still wanted to do, so much I wanted to achieve. But I felt this need to justify myself to others – where I put my time, how I spent it, and how I was still worthy of being spoken to or valued with or without my job. Instead of healing, I was exhausting myself trying to prove that I was still a somebody, pushing myself to try to catch up for time I thought I was losing. I didn’t have my identity with my job to fall back on, so I was trying to find other ways to feel validated. What I didn’t realize was that the universe didn’t need me, or anyone else, to explain my worth. It actually wanted me to find that value within myself.

Little did I know that dance would be a huge part of that unfolding. I thought I came to dance for strengthening and grounding physically. But it was also going to empower me emotionally and mentally, by giving me a space to learn who I was without my job title. When I came to Dance, it didn’t care what kind of career I had. There was hardly any time for someone to ask me what I did or where I went to school or what kind of degree I had. It was just “Put on your dance shoes, join the circle of dance, and let’s get moving!” And sometimes, that wasn’t even said in English, or in words. Hand gestures, body language, or a simple nod and music guided the lessons.

My academic life or my job title often actually deterred me from feeling into these other ways of communicating. Telling someone about my previous career wasn’t going to help me through a sequence of steps or the connection with my partner. I was thinking so much. I kept hanging on to the idea of being in charge, or having control, rather than letting dance, and the universe, allow me to be a student again, to trust and follow a different kind of lead.

I couldn’t hold up my degree or the accolades I gained to get me through a cross body lead or a turn pattern. Instead, I needed to get out of my head and into my body. It felt very unfamiliar, but exactly what I needed to find out who I was literally from my core. Dance made it so I had to show up embodied, all the clumsy, uncoordinated, shy, parts of me. And no one was going to just give me an A because I had been a teacher or fail me because I no longer had a job.

Instead, I had to surrender to learning to connect to myself, not the teacher self, not the self that worked hard in university, not the one who graded papers and who ran her own classroom, and not the one who just left her job, but the person who showed up anywhere and everywhere in all aspects of her life. Who was she? What did she want and need, and how could she tap into her value no matter what title she had or didn’t have?

I’ll never forget how a tango instructor in Buenos Aires began a workshop by letting us know that when we enter a milonga, we are all equal. You could be a lawyer or an engineer, or a janitor or a carpenter. Dance didn’t judge you according to your degree, or require you to show a resume or your salary in order to be accepted. You loved dance enough to come out and explore this shared pass time, and that was enough to honour that in everyone in that sacred dance space.

We were not to look down on someone or hold them up higher than ourselves because of our titles or careers or status in our outside of dance world. It took me a long time to realize that this took a lot of inner knowing, self honouring first. To honour others, we had to also be very self accepting, and non judgmental about ourselves.

I didn’t feel good about myself when I first started dancing. I thought it was because of my lack of experience with something body centered and athletic. So I saw myself below others, and wrongly put others on a pedestal. But over time, it became apparent to me that it was this inner critic that was putting me down, was scared to show up raw and vulnerable and without the certificates and hard work markers that she was so used to holding her up in other areas of her life. Getting to know who I truly was helped me show up with more presence as a dancer, teacher, and human being.

Dance made it so I had to get into my senses and the present moment, rather than focus on my history, my list of achievements and awards, or who I worked for. It came at a perfect time for me because I no longer was working for anyone. And Dance wanted to show me that there’s no shame in that. That I still had a purpose, no matter how I spent my “working” hours.

It’s not that my achievements didn’t matter. But Dance showed me that they aren’t me. That I can be proud of the work I put in to get them. But that there was a whole other part of me, most of me, the real me, that could walk into a room without those certificates and titles and achievements, and still feel worthy of showing up, of speaking up, of being heard.

I needed to find her. I wanted to connect with her, that part of me that didn’t need a job, title, certificate, fancy university degree title to back me up. I could still have all of those things, but they didn’t define me. And I started becoming aware of people who had already achieved that inner strength, inner confidence. Those who knew their worth didn’t reside on their job titles. I could pick them out in a room, in a conversation, and even in their humility in big crowds, and I so wanted to be one of them.

The more I was learning about who I was as an individual- my dreams, my fears, my perspective on life and relationships, and how I treated other people, the more I was excited to find out more about those aspects of others. I started going out and asking people, “What do you LIKE to do?” rather than “What do you do?” Or “What are you most afraid of?” or “If you knew that you were fully supported, what would you actually do?”

Most people were a bit caught off guard at first, but very quickly seemed relieved to be given a space to share about or even think about real aspects of themselves. It was like I had given them permission to just be, because Dance had given me that space to feel what it felt like to be me. And when jobs came into the conversations, it wasn’t so much about the jobs defining people. Instead, they were able to speak about their jobs as a compliment to their lifestyle choices or serving as inspiration to help inspire others, or to just honestly admit that maybe their job wasn’t fulfilling them as much as they wanted. But that they could still go out in the world and not feel less than because of it.

Because of Dance, I am not only able to show up at various events- whether with family, friends, strangers, or even alone- knowing my worth with or without my career, but I also can empathize with those that aren’t able to do it yet. Those who feel more secure hiding behind their jobs or titles or awards. I get it.

I still have certain situations that can shake my confidence from time to time, and I can feel myself instinctively wanting to bring up my university degree or a past achievement just to protect myself or feel more accomplished. But I also catch myself on it quicker, and know where this comes from. It reminds me that I am still human and have fears and want to belong and can get triggered in moments when I feel like I need to prove something to myself and others.

But so much can change in an instant. People can lose their jobs, get into accidents that don’t allow them to do the job they had, or have to relocate because a company might shut down. Or maybe you have an elderly parent you want to take care of, or there is a loss of a loved one that changes your perspective on where you want to live or what kind of career actually brings you the most joy or peace.

None of these real life changes should make someone feel unworthy of their ability to show up, be respected, and navigate life at their own pace, in their own way, with or without a job or job title. Finding your worth in who you are is so empowering. I am so grateful to Dance for showing me these other parts of me, and reminding me that we all are here for different reasons. Comparing your achievements to someone else’s robs you of seeing and living your sole purpose, the you that you came here to be.

It’s not something that can be captured in a frame on a wall or a medal on a mantelpiece for others to admire. It’s the way we show up in the world, our unique presence and essence. It’s constantly shifting and alive and moving. Dance allows me to feel into that and honour it, to be present to who I am being in each moment.