And then the tampons flew out of my bag

As I quickly collected them from the ground in front of a small crowd, and shoved them back into my bag, I was cracking up. So was my friend, waiting on the other side of the bag check at the Ally Pally fireworks.

The place was absolutely heaving, so we watched the display from closer than our usual spot, in front of the massive sound system. Having to crane my neck the entire time sucked, but it didn’t stop me from taking the opportunity to dance.

“I’m mad as hell. What. I ain’t going to take it no more. I’m mad as hell.”

​MAH. Chemical Brothers. TUUUUNE. Had forgotten how much I loved this jam.

Fast forward three weeks and it was blasting in my headphones during my dishwashing-solo-dance-party, in the middle of what felt like an endless Covid self isolation.

With the virus rife in the schools, catching it had begun to feel inevitable. But still, I was Mad As Hell it had hit our family, especially as we’d been so careful throughout the pandemic.

The movement felt really good in my body. While I was sick, I had disconnected from it, spending time in my head spinning out. I used my tools - meditation, breathing, grounding, tapping - all of which definitely helped to manage the anxiety, but it can have a vice-like grip. And so this spontaneous purge of anger, sadness, frustration and fear felt liberating.

During the kitchen disco, I also had a realisation - we were experiencing the very thing that we’d been so worried about for the past 20 months, and we were getting through it.

We were lucky, our symptoms were relatively mild and our recovery has been quick. By no means am I spiritually bypassing - there’s no denying how awful the experience was, but I know that we’ve built some resiliency. And antibodies!

Takeaway from this newsletter:

Go and have a hard dance in your kitchen.