Dad and I used to dance. I feel he sent me some vibes and a very big clue from heaven.
At the age of 12 I began the typical 'modern dance' that young girls do. A year later it was ballroom and latin. I loved it. Scoring high in the 90s for my medal tests, I just felt dance was a part of me, a part of life. Without it I simply wouldn't feel my heart beating.
As a family we would head off on dance weekends and I just couldn't get enough of it.
Beginning my career at 18 I had to pull away from the dance school and all my friends which was a really hard thing. I felt sure they would always be there for me though and the bond we had created would not be broken. I was sure they would understand just how hard my job was.
Even so, still I would bop while working, constantly.
The career had to take a detour when I became a mum, also becoming single at the same time.
Adorable twins kept me super busy for a year. Then I realised I needed to get a life back. Once a week I used to get mum and dad to babysit and I would go to a new type of dance I had never tried before, Ceroc. I LOVED IT.
Shortly after this, my aunt fell so unwell and I knew that all the while I had the physical ability to dance, I should. The same year I ran my first race for life with an ambition of running the total 5k regardless of how long it took. I also became a Ceroc finalist at the National competition in London. I was blown away. Coming 5th out of 160 couples. My partner and I had the best time and we became unbreakable, or so I thought. Dance made me feel alive. So alive. Keeping my mental health in check and I hadn't realised at the time but my physical health too.
Ten years ago I fell in love. My new man was keen to come dancing with me too. He could move pretty good. I loved dancing with him and didn't mind at all that I was back to basics again. We even headed to the competition floor after my previous partner told me he wasn't competing that year (but then did compete, with a much better dancer than me). My new husband and I were knocked straight out. Then a decline began.
"I'm not sure I will come tonight, might get an early night. You go though..." of course I didn't go. Well, you don't, do you.
Dancing Queen is on my funeral song list. Which surely shows I feel I'm still that girl.
Having not danced now for at least 8 years, my mental, physical health and wellbeing is just in ruins. Yet I refuse to believe it's done for. It will come back. Dance may help.
Having been thinking this for a couple of months since I became single, it was on my mind every episode of Strictly.
Glued.
Last night, the final...each time someone walked into the living room I paused the TV, not wanting to miss a second of it. The dance, the sequins, the hair and make up. All so amazing.
My competition days are over. I know this. My back crumbling and my muscles wasting. Yet I have to try. My eyes on stalks. I loved it. The music. There she was. There was me. I could have cried.
Then I realised.....as the winner was about to be announced, right in front of them was the trophy. A glitter ball. I gasped.
The night before I was at the university christmas ball. We pulled crackers.
My prize was a glitter ball.
Thank you for the message Dad xxx
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