1317: Never Gonna Dance Again

We went to a wedding today — that of our friends George and Mitu — and it was a pretty spectacular affair. Given their respective families’ diverse cultural and religious backgrounds (civil ceremony, followed by Islamic blessing, plus traditional Bengali and Ukrainian ceremonies, plus some Greek dancing somewhere along the way), there was a hell of a lot going on all day. I wouldn’t expect anything less from this particular couple; one of many complimentary things I can say about them is that they certainly don’t do things by halves.

As the evening session got underway, though, I found myself becoming contemplative, specifically with regard to the matter of dancing. I have never been a particularly good dancer, though when I first started university all it generally took to actually get me on the dance floor was a few vodka and Red Bulls. These days, though… I just can’t do it. I can’t bring myself to do it at all, and I find that fact a little distressing.

It’s not that I particularly want to dance, see — I think dancing is, on the whole, one of the more ridiculous things the human race has decided is a good way to spend its time — but it’s more the wider picture: over the last few years I’ve become very conscious of the fact that I find it very difficult to outwardly express joy in any form, whether that’s simply through saying something positive, “acting” excited or doing something typically associated with joyfulness like, say, dancing.

The precise reasons for this state of mind elude me somewhat, though I have more than a few suspicions that it’s something to do with either or both of the two related issues that are depression and self-esteem. Whenever I feel like I’m being “pressured” to act excited or joyful, I just clam up and feel horribly embarrassed; like if I do outwardly display some form of excitement or joy, people will immediately call it out for being “fake” or something. Perhaps “fake” isn’t the right word; it just doesn’t feel “right” to do or express these things. I can’t quite pin down if it’s a sense of feeling like I don’t “deserve” to feel these things — I don’t think it’s that — or whether it’s just a sense of embarrassment at being anything other than the stony-faced dude in the corner of the room.

I think it’s also something to do with social pressure. I have no problem with being excited when I’m by myself (ooer) and, as regular readers will note, I also have no problem with expressing excitement for something via the medium of the written word. But place me in a situation where I’m supposed to be acting excited? I can’t do it. I feel like people are judging me and will somehow not believe that I’m happy or excited if I don’t do it “enough” — ironically, though, this often makes me do some sort of half-hearted Fluttershy-style “yay” rather than genuinely act excited, which probably leads to the exact issue I’m afraid of.

(Incidentally, that whole “yay” scene with Fluttershy is absolutely, positively, 100% the reason why I love that show so much. I absolutely am her, in more ways than one.)

Sooooo. Yeah. If something cool happens to you, that’s great. I really am happy for you. If I don’t appear to be showing it on my face, however, it’s nothing personal. It’s just the way I am.

Yay.