Dancing Queen

On an early November morning, as the threat of winter began to descend upon a central Albertan city, 16 friends were nestled tightly in a Boeing 737 about to depart for a place that promised a beautiful wedding and a return to summer. One of these friends, seated an aisle away from the comforting nearness of her husband, was trying to sort through the turbulence in her mind. Would her kids be alright? What if something happens to them while they’re away? What if they get sick and can’t attend the wedding? What if her speech isn’t received well? As the plane took off towards the Gulf of Mexico, she wondered when, or even if, she would relax.

Spoiler: it took her four days.

Second spoiler: it’s me. Hi. Not Taylor Swift, but Stephanie Morris as the main character of this story. And, yes, it is based on real events.

Hot equator sun, refreshing salt-water breeze, and crippling anxiety—that’s what I found in Mexico when my husband and I ventured to the beautiful Grand Sirenis Resort for the celebration of my best friend’s wedding.

I wager my anxiousness stemmed from a mixture of mom guilt, wondering what mother dares to revel in a week of no obligations?;and ignorance towards slowing down, thinking choosing inefficiency is simply a preposterous notion, is it not? These were the nagging questions as my mind grappled with its new location and lack of responsibilities.

Ironically, the understimulation of my to-do/to-think list became a stimulant itself. No one needed me. I didn’t need me. No cooking, cleaning, parenting, or working for seven whole days. Soon I found myself searching for familiarity, for place, for purpose—only to be met with no plan, no time restrictions, and no distractions.

It was agonizing.

In recent years, my life has been under increasing pressure—pressure to be enough “mom” for each of my children, to be present enough for my friends, to excel at something outside of my home for my own sake, and, most recently, to excel at something outside of my home for economic necessity.

So why, with toes in the sand and ocean mist upon my cheeks, did I not feel this pressure release? Why couldn’t I let go and just rest?

I have known for some time that rest is not restricted to sleep or motionlessness; it’s not even simply letting your mind drift away and think of nothing. While these practices can be restful, battery-filling, life-giving rest may call for a more active remedy.

The antidote to my restlessness?

A hefty dose of disco.

For three of the seven nights we were blessed to be in Mexico, my husband and I made the longish (I say -ish because it was a resort and the bar for inconveniences was awfully low) trek along the cobbled path, past the habitations, to the remote side of the resort where the silence of nature was interrupted by the reverberating Discoteca.  

Night one, we stumbled in to find a Columbian wedding reception was underway. As it was a public disco, we were welcomed to the venue and were treated to an energetic mix of cultural and Top-40 hits. At the request of one of our party, we got the privilege of teaching the beautiful wedding guests a Canadian line dance. That brought me my first taste of enjoyment.

Night two at the disco was less crowded with about a dozen guests, but I was determined to have a good time. I have always loved to dance, and I was desperate for catharsis. Some may blame it on Wilberth the bartender’s Electric Lemonades, but I credit ABBA for being the catalyst for enjoyment that night. It was a very mindful experience as I nearly forced myself to abandon thought and absorb the music. I may not have had the most skillful dance moves, but I can guarantee they were soulful—and I brought a slightly more relaxed soul back from the disco that night because of them.

Night three at the disco happened on Day 5 of our trip—the wedding day. The night prior, I was on the brink of an anxiety attack. Without a reason in sight and already 4 days behind me in physical relaxation, I cried out desperately in the night for a breakthrough for my mind.

The next day, I tepidly passed the hours. I needed to balance my fragility with my honoured role in my best friend’s wedding. Thankfully, weddings are a beautiful distraction, and the bride was a joy to be around. While getting ready in the spa room, the bridesmaids turned on some 90s and early 00s music—and it was the perfect start to the rest for the rest of the vacation. As I had practiced on previous disco nights, I let the music absorb my energy, and I let go.

Sweet release! The rest of the afternoon, the ceremony, the reception, and even my speech, glided off my shoulders as pressures used to when I was a young child.

And it didn’t stop there.

The groom has a background in DJing, and, with the help of his wife, he compiled a vitalizing reception playlist that lasted four hours.

Still high on joy over the blissful occasion, after the reception finished, we waited a mere half hour for the Discoteca to open. We topped our night off with two more hours of soulful dancing. I felt like a true Dancing Queen.

When I say I relaxed the last two days of the trip, I really did. My mind floated in my head as delicately as my body did on the ocean.

I would never have thought that three nights of physical exertion was the key to my ability to relax on an all-inclusive vacation, but I guess that’s why the professionals point anxious minds like mine toward fitness. Mind and body really are bound together.