The Little Girl Who Never Stopped Dancing

People often ask me why I love music so much.

Why, whenever I hear a song, I immediately start singing or dancing.

For years, I never really had an answer. I would simply smile and say, "I don't know... I've just always loved it."

But now I finally know why.

As a little girl, I dreamed of becoming a professional dancer. I wanted to take dance classes, learn choreography, and perform on stage. But my family was poor, and my parents simply couldn't afford those kinds of lessons. They gave us everything they could, but dance classes were a luxury we couldn't have.

That dream never disappeared.

It simply waited.

Sometimes life delays our dreams,  but it doesn't erase them.

I've always been a creative person. I love drawing, painting, and making crafts. Creating something with my hands brings me peace. During my marriage, though, I slowly stopped making time for those parts of myself. Life became about responsibilities, work, marriage, and taking care of everyone else. Somewhere along the way, I stopped taking care of me.

After everything changed, I decided to create a small space just for myself—a place where I could paint, draw, make crafts, and reconnect with the creative person I had always been.

Art helped.

It gave me peace.

But something else healed me even more.

When my world began falling apart, I joined our church dance group.

Looking back, I don't think it was a coincidence.

Every rehearsal became a place where I could breathe again.

The moment the music started, my thoughts became quiet.

The anxiety disappeared.

The stress faded away.

The sadness lost its grip.

For those few moments, nothing else existed except the music, the movement, and the joy of dancing.

I felt alive.

I wasn't thinking about the divorce.

I wasn't thinking about work.

I wasn't thinking about the pain.

I was simply present.

That's when I realized why I've always loved music.

Music has always spoken to a part of me that words never could.

Dancing isn't just movement.

It's freedom.

It's peace.

It's joy.

It's healing.

Some people heal through conversations.

Some heal through exercise.

Some heal through writing.

I heal through music and movement.

Somewhere along the way, I stopped dancing. Life became busy again, and without realizing it, I walked away from something that had brought me so much joy.

Lately, I've been thinking about going back.

Not because I want to become a professional dancer anymore, but because I finally understand what dancing gives me.

It reminds me of the little girl who had big dreams.

It reminds me that dreams don't have an expiration date.

It reminds me that it's never too late to become the person you've always wanted to be.

People often think healing is about forgetting the past.

I don't think that's true.

I think healing is about finding yourself again.

For me, that means making time for my art.

It means creating.

It means painting.

It means drawing.

But most of all...

It means dancing.

So if you ever see me smiling when a song comes on, singing at the top of my lungs, or dancing without caring who's watching, now you'll know why.

I'm not just listening to music.

I'm reconnecting with the little girl who never stopped dancing.

And this time...

I'm not leaving her behind.

Healing didn't just teach me how to survive. It reminded me who I was before life convinced me to forget. Every time I dance, I'm not escaping my reality—I'm celebrating  the strength it took to make it through.

Maybe healing isn't about becoming someone new. Maybe it's about remembering who you've always been.