Shake That Ass
I’m standing in my kitchen, wearing yoga pants, and a baggy sweatshirt. The sun is extremely friendly this afternoon, and the breeze outside is forcing the fallen leaves to dance.
Oh yes, and I'm peeling carrots.
As I reach for the knife, Michael Jackson starts pouring out of my Bose speaker. Taking the first chop, the head of the carrot flies right into the garbage sitting next to the counter.
I subtly grab my crotch and shout, “Owww!”
Twenty minutes later, my hair is in a high pony, my sweatshirt is lifeless on the floor, and my neighbors are probably wondering why they didn’t get an invite to the party.
What do you do when you’re sad? What do you do when you need a pick-me-up?
I don’t know about you, but I like to dance.
Martha Graham said, “Dance is the hidden language of the -soul- of the body.”
I completely agree with Martha. But this took me a very long time to understand.
In 2006, during my junior year in high school, I went on medication for anxiety and depression. I’ll never forget sitting in the doctor's office, telling her how emotionally unstable I was. I was 17. (That is a full sentence in itself). So she prescribed me Zoloft, and that became my “happy pill”.
After my first year of college, I went back and told her it wasn’t working anymore. I was in a serious relationship now, and loving school, but I still felt depressed. So she prescribed me Effexor.
That was a nice upgrade.
Some days, I would take double the recommended dose. 75 mg a day was prescribed; but I’d do 150 if I was unhappy with my boyfriend, who wasn’t giving me enough attention. I was completely numb. And the sad part is, the medication was never actually healing me deep down inside. I didn’t realize my soul was slowly being buried - one pill at a time.
Pills were the answer to anything and everything uncomfortable for me. Most of my family was taking them, so it felt normal to own my own bottle of synthetics. I was also 50 pounds heavier, which literally added a weight to my self-esteem.
Fast forward to 2018. I’m standing in my kitchen, peeling these delicious carrots, and my “happy pill” is now aromatherapy, and shaking my ass to Michael Jackson 1-3 times daily.
One of the many ways dancing affects mood is by stimulating the formation of certain brain chemicals. Yes, you guessed it, dancing increases dopamine!
Google defines dopamine as: A compound present in the body as a neurotransmitter and a precursor of other substances including epinephrine.
How many nights have you been home and enjoyed a mini jam-sesh to your favorite song? One of those songs when you’re vacuuming your living room, you can’t help but use the Kirby as your dance partner.
Bob Seger’s Old Time Rock & Roll - gets me every time.
Frank Sinatra can also help lift your spirits, in a more sophisticated way. Frank is an absolute delight and can literally melt your anxiousness like butter on toast. 'I’ve Got You Under My Skin' is a personal favorite. That song makes me want to slip into a red cocktail dress, put on black lace gloves, and slowly sip on a martini.
I don’t even drink martinis.
When I'm not craving Frank, I'll pick up the beat a bit; especially when doing day-to-day, mundane things around the house. Laundry - lately not a huge fan. But when Justin Timberlake joins me as I dance in front of the dryer, I've never felt sexier folding towels and old dish rags. Be playful. Spice it up. Try sliding into the kitchen like Tom Cruise in Risky Business, the next time you want to complain about doing dishes.
The change in your physiology by moving your body is literally breaking up your unproductive thought patterns. This is not a theory, it’s science.
(Pushes glasses up over brim of nose).
It took 3 months to ween off of the medication I had been taking for 6 years. 2012 was the year my health, and my family’s health went in a completely different direction. I’m doing the happy dance just thinking about it.
So if you're looking to spice things up with your own “happy pill" - turn on your diffuser, turn up the tunes, and shake that ass.
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I'm wearing a pair of old joggers, a tight long sleeve, and a new zip-up. "Think the tag might still be on here." She says while looking down at her boob.
If you're a single, dating mama and you're reading this, please know I see you; and you're doing a fantastic job. Really wish they taught a class on this path of life in high school, but thank God they offered algebra.