(I have to double-up today…I missed Day 4 yesterday…dange it.)
Dancing used to make me sweaty and happy at least four nights a week.
Dancing used to provide a much-needed release to what I thought were monumental woes, jam-packed into what truly was a worry-free life.
Dancing stopped when I became an emotionally, verbally abused wife and mother.
Among the ruins of my first marriage, dancing was dying too.
Somehow, my insides have always known how integral dancing is to my happiness.
Now the dancing I do is in my kitchen while four little ones bounce around me, giggling and more excited as the song plays on….
Now the dancing I do is in secret, in my bathroom when my outfit is especially cute and my lipstick is right.
Now the dancing I do is out of freedom and love, out of rebirth and redemption.