Want to know something that had me smiling mid-pant, mid-sweat, during a cardio dance workout?

A (grand)matronly older woman booty-popping and mouthing the lyrics to Britney & Rihanna – right next to me, a lanky mom in her 40s who can’t shake her rigid balletic roots, attempting to twerk while also mouthing the same raunchy lyrics.

We’re a motley crew at this dance studio I’ve come to love in just a few short weeks. I’ve been disconnected from dance – one of my earliest, truest loves – for nearly two decades, and we’ve been in Missouri for almost a year and a half, with no real friends or community to show for it.

It’s not completely for lack of trying. Decent adult dance classes haven’t been consistently available or accessible in the places we’ve lived. Making friends has truly gotten trickier, less predictable, and more exhausting with age. Our little corner of the midwest is populated by people who have lived here their whole lives. It isn’t the transient, fluid environment we’re used to in places like DC and Southern California, where people are always milling about and making new friends.

Throw in the fact that we are in MAGA country, and I’ve come to trust basically no one.

But I am having a heck of a good time dancing in the glow of flashing clubby lights and volume levels that prompt my Apple Watch to warn me about dangerous decibels, with a group of women that literally just wants to shake it out. I don’t even know most of their names.

It was a rocky start though, not gonna lie. I’ve been dealing with some cyclical depression, exacerbated by recent hormonal upheavals. My first day trying cardio dance, I was very depressed. (I even took myself out for brunch and shopping after, but remained consistently on the verge of tears all day). The dancing felt very difficult and I could barely keep up. I was uncoordinated and self-conscious. The moves were dumb. Maybe I’ve lost my edge, I thought. Maybe this just isn’t fun for me anymore.

My rational side knew not to draw a conclusion about the classes on what was clearly a bad day. I went again. And again.

Now, I dutifully attend 2-3 times per week. Sometimes I add on the weights class. I know a few more names. I went to a winery with some of them last weekend.

Moving my body the way I love most and connecting with a group of women, however casually, has truly been healing.