It's been a while. I have been focused on such mundane things as car repairs and my child's acclimation to second grade, so writing has been on the back burner for the last few weeks. But I'm ready to get back to it.
I got back to something else tonight. I went to a Zumba class. Not too long ago, I was going regularly, but this went by the wayside recently, too.
The class was pretty good (though I felt the missing weeks in my muscles, my lungs, and my coordination). It was a new instructor tonight. I've had a handful of them, and their styles have varied considerably-- one had a kind of ballet-on-steroids presentation, another was very muscular and looked like she was dancing with invisible barbels, and a third had a take on the standard Zumba moves that looked more cheerleading than dance. But those three, along with tonight's teacher, had one thing in common. They were super cheerful.
Maybe this is a requirement for being a good Zumba teacher.
I like Zumba. I'll never be skilled enough to teach it, but there have been times when I've imagined a Zumba class I'd like to teach. It would be Zumba for Depressed People.
I would start the class with the question, "How many found it a Herculean task to get here?"
I would say that they should do what they can, take breaks if they need to. I would say they should not berate themselves if they make a mistake.
I wouldn't coddle them. I wouldn't push them. I would be friendly, but not exuberant. I would let them know that wherever they were physically, emotionally, was okay.
And in my fantasy about this, they would know that I am no stranger to depression and anxiety. That some days are harder than others. But that you don't have to be super-enthusiastic to go to a Zumba class. You just have to take that leap of faith that the music, the moves, the process of doing this one act of self-care can leave you feeling better at the end of the hour. Not ecstatic, mind you. But better.
This society tends to stigmatize depression and anxiety. It's supposed to be our dirty secret, something that keeps us skulking around our homes, away from Zumba classes and well-adjusted people.
Some of the best people I know have survived bouts of depression and/or anxiety. It is not who we are, but it is part of who we are. And we shouldn't hide or be embarrassed and ashamed. Depressed and anxious do not equal weak, flawed, or damaged.
I'd like to have us all in a big room doing Zumba in a very low-key, accepting, courageous way.
