Maybe it wasn't dance, maybe it was me

Last week when I wrote about being uninspired and slightly depressed about a dance class I took. I don't think I gave proper credit to who I took the class with. Really it wasn't about what movement, or not being excited to be in a cardio class, having some me time. I was feeling down about not having friends in the area, and not being able to make friends. I've been going to this class for months and I'm not even friends with anyone from this school on facebook.
What made me realize that I was more upset about the social aspect, than my skills was taking aclass a few days later with Laura. We've been friends for almost 10 years, and we met in a dance class. I have a very small circle of people that I know I can count on for anything. She's always there for me. From an affirmation that my outfit is cute to flying from far away to be a bridesmaid at my wedding.
The class was so much fun. We didn't talk during the class, but we both enjoyed class, and we could talk endlessly over cupcakes after class. That's a big part of friendship to me. It's sharing experiences. Sharing things about us that make us who we are. And I'm so blessed to have a friend to share dance, among other things, with.

Izzy's First Birthday Celebration - Freak Snow Storm

Well it's a good thing we didnt plan a huge party at our tiny home complete with outdoor activities. Who knew a freak snow storm would assault the northeast the day before Izzy's birthday. The storm that dumped heavy snow onto trees, already battered by a hurricane but still with leaves, that consquently came crashing down on power lines and crippling the northeast. I thank God that we had electricity, it's 10 days later and my sister's power just restored.
Our small gathering of immediate family members and very close friends, (we're talking bridesmaids/groomsmans from our wedding and the grandparents and aunts and uncle) was quiet and just right for our shy little Izzy. I was a little nervous that all eyes on her would lead to a very bashful and self-conscious 1 year old. The familiar atmosphere at home and the friendly faces certainly helped. By naptime she had her fill of food, cake and presents. I'm really glad that I didn't go overboard like I have a tendancy to do. Instead the party was just right for Izzy.

Dance, do you still love me?

I love to dance. I anxiously anticipate weddings because I can break it down in a sea of happy dancers. And I never thought te day would come where I regretted ever proclaiming my love for dance. But it happened. It happened when I was mid-box step in a cardio dance class. I looked around the room, saw how happy everyone was and my heart sank. My feet were still moving, but all the energy had been sucked out of. It's still a mystery why I lost the feeling, and I tried to get back into it, but there I was sashe-ing across the floor with limp noodle arms. I don't normally compare myself, but in that moment, everyone in the room was better than me. Sassy stay at home mom had great tempo, peppy twenty-something had ebullience, too good for everyone blondie tossed her hair like a pro. Here were all these women working it, and there I was, miserable.
I couldn't explain it. I glanced at the door imagining a grand escape, never to return. The instructor would casually remark how weird my exit was and I'd be forgotten. I pushed on, made it to the part where we all clap because it was a "great class". As I changed to street sneakers the pockets of conversations started, and I found myself with no one to talk to. I darted to my car before the tears started. I was embarrassed for not knowing how to make friends, devastated because I felt like dance had deserted me and just overwhelmed that I was about to dive back into a never-ending pile of work.
I'm not sure what all this means. I can only hope it was just one off night. I'll head back to class on Saturday for another round in the battle to meet friends while doing something for me.