Sunday 17 December 2017

Signs from loved ones from heaven?

Yesterday saw the end of Strictly come dancing 2017. It was amazing.  I could not take my eyes off the screen.

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.  


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 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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