Two Years, Two Dances, and the Change You Can See

Two years ago, I joined a dance challenge my health coaches were running. It was supposed to be fun—film yourself moving, share it, celebrate being alive in your body. It was just a 30-second clip on Instagram Stories, the kind that disappears after 24 hours.

What no one saw was how long it took me just to press record. I filmed and deleted, paced the room, whispered “maybe tomorrow,” and tried again. Hours passed before I finally posted it—with a shaky finger, not a confident smile. And then I checked back every five minutes like a nervous teenager, waiting to see if anyone would noticed or liked it.

Because the truth was, I was only six months out from losing my dad. Grief had taken up residence in every part of my body.

The reel wasn’t a joyful dance—it was proof to myself that I was still here, even if I didn’t feel like myself anymore.

 Here’s a photo from that first reel: 

(sorry my tech person does not do embedding lol)

I’ll leave the deeper layers of that story for another time.

But a few months later, with the advice and support of my doctors, I made the biggest decision of my life: to stop taking antidepressants.

This wasn’t about chasing “better.”

It was about wanting to witness my grief as it was, without the fogginess, without the side effects dulling one of the most PROFOUND events of my life.

I knew I couldn’t numb it, couldn’t run from it, couldn’t hide.

I knew the only path was through. Not around. Not away. Right through the heart of it.

And I was finally FUCKING ready.

So I talked to my doctors. And with their support, I stepped into the rawest healing I’ve ever known.

From there,

painfully, slowly, I felt my body return to me. My energy shifted. My face softened. My eyes began to carry light again. Breath came easier. For the first time in a long time, I felt my whole self—body, mind, and soul—coming back online.

Fast forward to now...

Just a few days ago, I recorded another reel. This time it wasn’t for a challenge; it was for PURE JOY. My girlfriend was throwing a dance party to celebrate one year in business, and I showed up. I danced. I laughed. I cried. I recorded it all—and this time when I hit “share,” it wasn’t about proving I was alive. It was about feeling happy. Not perfectly confident, but genuinely proud.

 Here’s a photo from the dance party: 

(same same lol)

Watching those two reels side by side is so humbling. (I'll post to IG at some point.)

The visible change in my body is obvious. But the real shift runs so much deeper: I see resilience in my posture, softness in my smile, hope in my eyes and TRUE HAPPINESS!!!

The woman I see today is a fighter. She’s resilient. She believes in herself. She believes in humanity. Call me an optimist, but I still believe most people are innately kind. We’re all just humans living imperfect lives, trying in the best ways we know how.

Do I still get nervous before posting vulnerable things like this? Of course. My hands still tremble, my heart still races. But now I understand those nerves as a sign that I’m alive, that I care, that I’m expanding into something new and unfamiliar.

 Two years, two dances, and a change you can both FEEL and SEE.

If you’re in your own season of “it took me all day just to press record,” I want you to know—you’re not alone.

Keep going.

Keep showing up.

Never give up on yourself.

Your future self will look back with gratitude for every shaky, imperfect, beautiful moment you chose to keep living!!!!!

I’ve left a light on for you.

Shannan