I first recognized that I was an anxious person when I was in college, but my relationship with anxiety began at a much younger age than that.

Growing up, my life at home was complicated, so school became my safe place. I was a passionate little girl with a strong sense of my own beliefs and values. I would fight for whatever I thought was right, regardless if I was alone or not. My teachers and peers seemed to like that quality in me, and I felt comfortable with them. I liked who I was at school, and so I began to attach myself to that image. 

As time past, my mind slowly started to build that image up of how I thought others perceived me. I felt like I had to hold myself to those standards or else. Acting should have been my major because I was playing whatever role I needed to make sure others would accept me. I became pretty good at it; it almost felt natural. 

You see, when I was young, I was able to combat the anxiety I felt at home with the freedom I felt at school. It made it manageable at first. The older I got, the more the anxiety started to creep into the image I had of myself and take control over me.

It was my 4th year in college when my anxiety drove me into a state of depression. I was playing too many roles and could no longer keep up with each one. Every little mistake invoked so much fear within me. Those moments would replay in my head over and over again to the point that my body would naturally go into fight or flight mode just from thinking about them.

I finally reached a point where I was ready to ask for help, but when I did, the support wasn’t available to me. I felt numb. Unconsciously, as a coping mechanism, I turned to shut out everything so I couldn’t feel anything. The anxiety I had around being disconnected from others ended up pushing me further away from those connections. Without having others to tell me who I am, I didn’t know who I was. 

I became fearful of exploring new interests, because somehow I always felt behind compared to others. I stopped allowing myself to even try. I lived my life like this for quite some time. Those closest to me knew something was up, but I had a hard time accepting everything. I tried to hide it all as much as possible.

It wasn’t until I discovered yoga and meditation that things started to change. Together they taught me how to get comfortable with being uncomfortable, how to recognize emotions that came up, and how to acknowledge them instead of shutting them out. I may not have control over how others perceive me, but ultimately I’m the one who has control over how I feel, and it was time to take that control back. 

To say my anxiety is gone would be a lie. It’s still there, but the difference now is my awareness of it. I’ve been able to reflect on my past and understand when anxiety was lying to me. Now, when I recognize it is showing up, I’m able to separate myself from it. Although there is still much work to be done, I’m celebrating the growth that’s already occurred.

Dancing, for me, is one of my favorite kinds of celebration. Throughout my life, music has always been my escape from reality. I used it to help me tune into sensations and experiences I wanted to feel. When I listen to music it takes me out of whatever headspace I’m in and into each song's story.

I feel each song so deeply, sometimes it causes me to over identify with the emotions, and it can be hard to let those feelings go. Dancing helps me release, bring me back to the present moment, and get me out of my head. It makes me curious, too, about the different ways I can move my body. 

Similar to others, I danced only in the privacy of my room. It was a safe place for me to explore new movements. The thought of showing that side of me in front of others was terrifying. At school dances, I would sit and watch others because I cared too much about how my teachers would perceive my style of dancing. It wasn’t until college that I would openly dance. Still, I had to be at a bar with a group of close friends so I wouldn’t receive unwanted attention. Some people would sexualize my dancing, and sure it can be considered sexy, but to me, it’s a way to honor myself and all that I am. Dancing is a way to empower my femininity. 

Dork Dancing was something new to me. I first learned about Dork Dancing when Ethan shared with me his creative idea to start this community in Da Nang. The idea seemed very ambitious, and I was intrigued by it. Excited and curious, I was ready to see how the events at the beach would turn out. Then the reality of Dork Dancing sunk in. The events were hosted during broad daylight, in a popular location… 

I could feel a wave of anxiety flowing through my body just thinking about it. I wasn’t sure how I would feel secure enough to allow myself to freely dance with nowhere to hide. My style of dancing isn’t considered dorky, and I was scared of how others might judge that. Still, I decided to just show up and give it a shot. 

I felt uncomfortable at the beginning, during the start of my first DD event. But another dork dancer named Thai encouraged me to let loose and just have fun with it. The more DD events I showed up to, the more I felt connected and comfortable with the community that was being built. Now, when I go to DD, it energizes me, and I can feel more of a lightness being present, knowing I have a safe place to connect with myself and others. 

My dork dancing story is still being written, but I’ve seen tremendous growth in my comfort in the idea of freely dancing in public. Every event gives me a space to challenge negative thoughts, but not alone, with a community of others who are going through the same process. I will continue to show up at dork dancing for the joy, people, and presence it brings me. I encourage others, who may be interested, to give it a try. Ultimately, only you are holding yourself back from the person you want to be. I learned about that, because of my anxiety, slowly over time. Meditation, yoga and dork dancing helps. 

Much love to Ethan and the community of Dork Dancers for making all of this possible.