Dancing Through the Darkness: A Somatic Healing Journey

Brandi Osborne  Sometimes the Universe gives us exactly what we need before we even know that we need it.  For me, that gift was dance.  I always thought that a gift from the Universe was a special talent you were given at birth.  But now I think it's more like a dream whispered to your spirit just when you need it the most. 

2018 was when I needed it the most. I was in the depths of denial about our impending empty nest. I'd been blessed and honored to homeschool our two sons through their high school graduations. Now I was being forced into early retirement as they were both discussing plans for being adults out in the world on their own. They were my identity for so long, now I was going to be forced to turn the focus back on myself, and I was scared. 

As if that weren't enough change, 2018 was also the year I was first diagnosed with ADHD. It felt like my entire world had shifted. I had spent my whole life feeling like I was somehow ‘too much’ and ‘not enough’ all at once.  My mind had always been a pinball machine- thoughts bouncing from one thing to the next, never quite settling. The idea of sitting still with myself, without the constant purpose of caring for my children, was overwhelming. 

My husband happened to see an ad for a free New Year's couples foxtrot class. He knew that I had always wanted to try dancing, so we made a date. Bless his intuitive soul for it, too. We attended and were treated to a belly dance demonstration. And I felt it in my marrow. I wanted to do that. I needed to do that. 

I had fallen in love before, of course. With my husband. And my sons. But this was different. Belly dancing was my path to finally falling in love with myself. The rhythm and movement provided my busy mind with an anchor. When I danced, my thoughts slowed down. It was the only time I felt truly present- my body and mind in sync, a rare and precious gift for an ADHD brain. I was there before the teacher on Monday morning, and I haven't stopped dancing since. Just in time. 

Because shortly after that class, I lost a beloved and precious friend to her battle with depression. A few weeks later, our oldest son left the nest. Just a couple of months after that, I lost my sweet fur buddy and constant companion of 11 years. And just a few short months later, our youngest son left the nest too. 

They say it's always darkest before the dawn. Dawn is finally arriving again in my soul after a long, hard grief. And I am grateful from my toes to my nose for that, every day. During that darkness, I read that grief will change you, and that you should let it. So, I have tried to embrace that to the very best of my ability. Certainly, much has changed since the great grief. 

What remains, though- that's the golden stuff, you know. And what remains for me now, as I look back over the mountains and valleys we've travelled through since then, is love. The solid and unyielding love of my husband, children, and fur buddies- and dance. 

Science has proven the many benefits of exercise for mental health. You hear it over and over, but you never truly understand it until you experience it for yourself. My husband and I had suffered through or avoided Melba toast flavored exercise routines for years until we stumbled into dance. It really has been its own special kind of magic and healing for us. 

My husband has ADHD as well, and he described it beautifully. He said, “I thought that when you dance your mind for some reason would focus on one thing and one thing alone. Because when we dance that's all I think about. Not the five things that are playing in my mind the rest of the time. But I realized that I was wrong. Dance doesn't let your mind focus on just one thing; It only seems like that. Because in that moment, you're thinking about where to put your arms, feet, your whole body. You have to watch what's going on around you, focus on the music, even your partner. So, I was wrong. It doesn't focus your mind on just one thing. Now I know that there are still at least five different things going on, but they all come together to focus on one pinpoint moment. Yes, you still have 5 things going on, but when they all do come together like that for one purpose and one purpose only, that is why dance is magic, in my mind.’ 

That magic isn't just about focus- it's about integration. The chaos of ADHD often feels like living with 10 radio stations playing at once all tuned to different stations. Dance doesn't quiet the noise so much as conduct it, creating harmony from discord. The steps, the music, the movement- all the elements align to create a singular, vivid moment of clarity. 

There were a lot of painfully silent moments when my house went still after the busyness of family and friendship. In those moments, all I could do was dance. One step at a time, letting the music carry me forward when I was too hurt, too exhausted to go further. It was more than healing my grief- it was giving my mind the focus and structure it craved. The repetition of movement, the grounding feeling of my feet on the floor, and the freedom to express without words brought a calm to my nervous system that nothing else could. 

Comedian Josh Johnson likes to remind people that art can save lives. Dance, to me, is the purest essence of art. It has saved my life, and my husband’s also. It gave us not just an outlet but a lifeline. When everything felt too heavy, dance helped us float. 

If you find yourself in a season of sickness or grief and in need of healing, whether your mind is racing or you feel stuck in stillness, dance offers a bridge back to yourself. So I'd offer you the healing power of dance. And we'll be here too- dancing through the hard days, quieting the noise in our ADHD minds, and finding focus and freedom one step at a time. We hope you dance.