I Spy

A decade ago I was a dance-obsessed maniac. Every night, every week, all the time. It even got so every few minutes at the temp job I was on I'd take a break because the men's room was enormous and usually empty and there was a looooong mirror I could practice my steps in front of. My bosses must have thought I had the first ever terminal case of IBS. But I was too dance-crazed to care.

That might suprise people who knew me back in school. I was an introvert in school, which conversely might surprise some of my dance friends. I found enough equilibrium in High School to be able to work around it some, but before that, it was almost crippling.

I just exploded when I found Lindy Hop. I was stunned by how good I felt, all the time.

It's not that I'd stopped being shy. I had a hell of a time getting around the shyness at first, going out to dance socially. It took over two years to get to that first crazy flush of euphoria on the dance floor. Starting classes, abandoning them; going out to dances, leaving early and crying in the car. But I kept at it until I broke through despite myself. And after a while I went into a frenzy. I thought I'd finally found my way past the introversion.

I was wrong.

I found a brief reprieve. The momentum I gathered while in that reprieve carried me through 13 years of dance. But eventually the social anxiety came back, stronger, and over time, it shut me down. I'd still force myself to go out, but instead of breaking through, I began to break down.

I got very good at the invisible departure. The more anxious I got, the quieter I got, and smaller. Until I got so small and silent I realized I'd made myself invisible. At which point, I'd slip like a ninja right out the door and no one would realize I'd left.

I started doing it a lot until I got uncannily good at it. It became a very easy, very bad habit. And eventually, I vowed to stop. I made a promise to myself that I'd leave social functions when I wanted, but I'd do so visibly and say good bye to friends and hosts. In some ways it meant I was going out even less, but at least I was doing it visibly.

Tonight I fell off the visibility wagon. At a dance party, I couldn't even work up the momentum I can usually muster for a few dances. Without any momentum, I sat. I began to panic. I grew silent. And all at once my feet were carrying me out the door and I was gone just as it was dawning on me that I was in danger of running.

I totally blew the invisible part too. It turns out I was out of practice--I timed it badly, so I was heading out the door when eight people were heading in. But it still played out the same and I drove off cursing myself.

So tomorrow I start over again at being visible, with my counter reset to zero.