From Here to Better

I had the time of my life. My smile was ear to ear.

It’s been years since I stepped onto a dance floor with any real intention. The last time I attempted country line dancing, I was mostly a wallflower, throwing myself into a song here and there but never feeling fully confident. That night, I met Jeremy, a line dance instructor who was patient enough to help a beginner. We stayed connected on Instagram, and through him, I found out about the dance lessons I went to tonight.

And honestly? Dancing was liberating. Two-plus hours of trying. Of stepping, misstepping, laughing, figuring it out, and completely losing my place again. And yet, it felt good. It made me smile. Like, a lot. Even though I had no idea what I was doing more than half the time, I spent the majority of the night on the dance floor, just going for it.

At one point, an elderly gentleman came up to me mid-dance for a pep talk. He told me he drives all the way from Yardley just to dance and goes all over just to dance with his clique. That’s how much he loves it. He saw my struggle (it was pretty obvious, I’m sure) and gave me some solid advice—embrace the suck. Because the thing with country line dancing, he explained, is that everyone helps everyone else. Throughout the night, seasoned dancers called out steps, made sure we newbies stood in the middle so we always had someone to watch. Talk about people helping people. That made all the difference—even if I still had no idea what was happening most of the time.

He also told me something that stuck: There are only 47 steps. It’s just the sequence that’s confusing. Keep after it.

That hit me in a way I wasn’t expecting. Because isn’t that just life? We overcomplicate things, get overwhelmed by the whole picture, when really, it’s just a series of steps—steps we’ll eventually learn if we just keep going.

And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

Turns out, there’s a place closer to my house that has line dancing lessons every Thursday. And on the second Saturday of every month? A full-on dance night. Who knew? And how cool?

So here’s my commitment for the year: screw men—I want to learn how to dance.

I want to throw myself into something, not because I have to, not because it’s part of some grand plan, but because it makes me happy. Because I want to prove to myself that I can stick with something new, even when I feel completely lost in it. Because I deserve to do things that make me light up.

So if you need me, I’ll be on the dance floor. Probably still messing up the steps, but having the absolute best time doing it.