Yesterday I woke up with a headache, and it never really went away. Like, it would get better for an hour or two then resurge, especially if I were dancing with much energy. (I’m at a Lindy Hop weekend, and it’s a lot of bouncing up and down, which apparently is better at creating tension in the body than relieving it.) Anyway, that’s sort of how the day went–there’d be this build-up of internal pressure, and then it’d let off a little.

A little.

When I first started attending dance workshops, I went to every class that was offered, rotated around to a hundreds of strangers and said, “Hi. What’s your name? Where are YOU from?”, and tried to learn as much as I could about everything and everyone. Now, I hate doing that. I adore learning, but the whole meet-and-greet and be patient with a million strangers who are all struggling to do something new, frankly, is exhausting. All this to say that yesterday I skipped my classes (that I paid for) except one (which went well, and I enjoyed meeting and dancing with A FEW new people). The rest of the time I either observed or talked to friends.

Here’s the deal. I really don’t know many people out here. Like, I know the main organizer and my host, and they are both darling people, but they are also new relationships. I have close friends and people in my life with whom I can breathe deep and feel “completely at home,” but they simply don’t happen to be with me. So there’s this feeling of I’m-all-by-myself that keeps coming and going this weekend like my tension headache. I wouldn’t say that it’s “a ton” of internal pressure, but it does build up off-and-on throughout the day.

For example, yesterday I walked to lunch with a friend, but ended up eating alone. I eat alone all the time and am rarely bothered by it, but yesterday’s situation was magnified as a big deal in my head because “everybody else” was sitting at a table with their friends–laughing, carrying on, loving life–they basically looked like an iced-tea commercial. And there I was alone at the bar, looking like the first part of an anti-depressant ad. BUT THEN a girl from overseas whom I’d met in the buffet line came over and asked me if I wanted to walk back together and chat. (I’d asked her opinion about a specific dance event.) Well, get this shit–we ended up skipping the two classes after lunch and talking instead–getting to know each other, chatting about dance—like friends would. Halfway through the conversation, my friend the organizer joined in. All of a sudden, the iced-tea tables were turned. Had someone else been walking by alone, they might have seen us there on the sidewalk, basking in the sun, eating gluten-free snickerdoodles, and thought, Life sucks. I wish I had friends like that.

When classes were over, my host and I came back to his place, and I walked up the street to make sure my car was still there. (Parking here is a mess, and I wanted to make sure I didn’t do something wrong.) As it turns out, I did do something wrong. I parked on a hill, going down, and didn’t turn my wheels toward the curb. So I got a fucking ticket for $69. And whereas I didn’t immediately overreact or freak out or really feel bad about it at all in the moment, my mind kept coming back to it throughout the night. This blows. Why does life hate me?

But honestly, how was I supposed to know? I never park on hills.

But then my host and another new friend and all went to dinner, and it was fabulous. But then, after having been in a dance contest between classes and coming back to the house, I found out I didn’t make it to the next round. (What a bummer.) But then I got to the dance and my host said, “Let’s take a picture together by the sign [like friends would],” and then I had some delightful dances with people who were smiling and kind and fun to be around. But then I did that I-should-be-better-than-I-am thing. But then one dancer said, “I enjoy dancing with you so much. You’re clear without being forceful, and you have a lot of interesting shapes.” (So that felt good.) A couple hours later when the dance was winding down, I was in the middle of a good conversation AND a headache.

So it was a mixed bag.

Waking up this morning, I’m more centered. My body is sore, but I got good sleep, and that always helps. Plus, I’m more focused on the positives and am reminding myself that EVERYONE does that comparison bullshit, especially at dance weekends. We see others laughing and having a good time, but we simply have no idea what their internal dialogue and experience is. Mostly like, we are all too hard on ourselves and ask too much from life, demanding that every experience be pleasant, every dance fabulous. But what’s the truth? Some dances, some days, suck or are mediocre. Some are both great and not-so-great at the same time. These are the ones I don’t know what to do with, the days when the tension comes and goes, the days when I stumble along. Emotionally, these days are exhausting. A little up, a little down, over and over, can take its toll.

Still.

I keep dancing.