Dance, when you’re broken open. Dance, if you’ve torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you’re perfectly free.
Today emptied my emotional and physical stores repeatedly. I have nothing left to give tonight, although I tried many times to work on several posts.
So, instead of choosing to succumb to the tiredness, physical pain, and self-loathing for not living up to my expectations for how I treated myself and others today, I’m choosing to dance.
I have no reason to dance, if I listen to my inner critic. In fact, I have every reason not to dance, which is exactly why the music is so loud and my feet are about to jump around so infectiously that everyone here will be pulled in with me.
This is healing.
Post for NaBloPoMo
(Since I’m writing most of these late at night, in bed, while tandem nursing twins, I’m choosing to concentrate on writing rather than proof-reading or editing. Please forgive the extra typos and non-nonsensical grammar. Thank you.)