I have discovered a magic pill… flamenco dancing. Well, the Zumba version because I am pretty sure I am not coordinated enough for the real deal.
Lots has been happening in our foster home over the past couple of weeks. There has been devastating grief as the very real possibility of our two littlest babies reuniting with their mama has become apparent. As much as that is the goal of fostering, we love each child in our home as if they are ours so of course it hurts… a lot.
And so, what is a girl to do? I dance. I hold those babies tight and shake what my mama gave me.
I am no scientist but chemically speaking, dopamine is released during exercise. My mental acuity improves as my brain signals my body to move at a certain pace with specific moves. As I learn to move, I am also learning to instruct which means that my brain and body are working even harder still. All of which distracts me from a broken heart.
I need all the help I can get otherwise I am very sad. The last thing a girl with depression needs is something to push her equilibrium over in the wrong direction. I guess you could call this self medicating?
So, flamenco I shall.
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