No, I’m not talking about viewing ladies undergarments; I’m talking about dancing.

I get ‘down days’ where I can’t do anything, I think its called depression but I’m not keen on labels. When I am having a ‘down day’, I have no motivation, I am full of fear, I don’t like myself and all I can do is isolate. I try to pass the time with Netflix but the comedy doesn’t make me laugh and the violence makes me feel worse but I seem to have no power of choice over what I watch. I’m NetVulnarable. I just made that up. Take it, it’s yours.

I think ‘down days’ are common in the recovery community if not all of humanity. I used to self medicate drugs but now that isn’t an option I tend to eat junk food and get NetVulnarable and the result of that is more feelings of worthlessness and even less energy.

I try to be the witness of Lizzie having a ‘down day’ rather than identifying personally with the low vibrations. Acceptance of where I am at is always best but I don’t always manage to practice that, so pulling myself out of one of these days is easier said than done. I know I should reach out but I can’t phone a friend because somehow I’m not good enough and I won’t be any fun and for someone who prides themselves on being fun that’s a hard place to be. Pesky ego!

On a ‘down day’ I had last week, a friend texted me asking me what I was up too. I responded “I’m gonna stay in, feeling a bit rubbish today.” She phones me and offers to pick me up and drive me to a beautiful beach in Vancouver and I feel like I just can’t. That’s because it’s a ‘down day’ and that’s how I get.

A couple of hour’s later she texts me again asking “how goes it., I’m leaving soon” This time I respond “I’m depressed” It’s a bit of a cry for help, I hate doing it, I feel like I’ve taken an overdose and then posted it on Facebook: “Goodbye everyone don’t try and save me, I live at 65 woodland drive (hurry). “ She phones me and offers to take me to ‘Just Dance’. I have no idea what this is but I have just cried for help so I have to accept.

I make a conscious effort to focus on anything other than the list of negative thoughts I have been thinking all day,. Its tempting to tell my friend my woes but the more attention I give them, the more momentum I build. When my friend arrives she asks what’s wrong and I tell her in a blasé way “ahh just stuff” and she says “yeah that’ll do it” and off we go in her little Smart car. On the way I feel like crying, my friend doesn’t know this. She is talking about her day. I focus on her. She has a kind soul, she has been helping a deaf lady for the last couple of hours and suddenly I feel grateful that I am the next on her list to help, although she doesn’t really know that she has just saved me from myself.

My friend takes me to an alcohol free meditation dance event in a community hall of some kind. I pay the cover charge of 12 dollars to a smiley middle-aged woman who holds my hand momentarily as she gives me my change. “Enjoy yourself.” She purrs.

The DJ is playing an upbeat mix of non-descript music that is clearly meant to move the soul. My friend has disappeared, she knows some of the fairy folk here so I find a spot at the edge of the room to watch the laser patterns dancing across the wooden floor and go unnoticed.

My mind tells me, “I wish I wasn’t here, it smells of cats pee and pertulie oil.” Fed up with my negative head I focus on the assortment of wild movements that are unfolding around me. A topless bearded hippy spins past, then a woman dressed like a water nymph prances after him and they disappear into the mix. Everyone is smiling and I notice with a rye smile that every nationality is represented here, Hobbits, Elves, Dwarfs and Pixies, all present.

A beautiful young Asian man in a red bandanna is rolling on the floor (levels) he smiles at a woman and she mirrors him and dances closer to the ground that she previously was. I have been in this environment before when I went to a 5 rhythms dance class in Manchester. If you haven’t been, you really must try it.

I can cope with this. Nobody is judging me, there is a freedom in here you won’t find in a nightclub but I am not quite free from myself yet. My stomach is churning with a sadness of some kind. I can’t bring myself to give anyone eye contact. Some people are skipping around the room darting between each other, others are stomping, and one girl is moving round the room tapping her head like a robot malfunctioning. It’s surreal. I am dancing small, I feel disconnected, I’m trying to be present with the churning, trying to stay with the physical feeling and just watch, its hard. I go and sit down.

I spot my friend, she is dancing with an Indian man in a wheel chair, he has a white tunic top on that is glowing bright under the UV lights, I watch as she grabs the handles of his chair and starts thrusting him into a throng of people from Middle Earth. He is laughing, his arms thrown in the air. I continue to watch the various wonderful displays of creative expression, the energy is magical and for a moment I feel some relief as a wave of serenity passes over me.

Then my friend is in front of me arms outstretched. I take her hands and suddenly we are dancing, skipping around, looping under each other’s arms. Then I am doing some cranky robot movement, my friend laughs and then responds with an equally ridiculous move and suddenly a huge smile comes across my face and I am actually enjoying myself. I concentrate on not concentrating. I just want to stay here in this smile for a bit longer, the music takes hold and I go with it. My smile attracts other smiles and this makes my smile bigger, its like taking smile steroids. Then the Asian floor dweller starts to dance with me, I oblige and incorporate some levels into my merry shindig. Suddenly I can see I have allowed myself to be a part of this world and I love and I am loved. Thank you Great Spirit.

The more of a misfit I am the more I fit in.