The Washroom Dance: My Little Secret to Wash Away the Blues
You can find your secret too
Things had not gone too well that day. The morning commute was unusually irritating. People drove recklessly to reach their offices before the bio-sensors could mark them late. They behaved like they were in the live version of a video game — cutting lanes, honking, glaring and staring. Some conscientious ones even drove perpendicular to the traffic to get ahead of one more vehicle at the red lights. The only thing they did differently from the game was not colliding with other cars in their race to the office.
As soon as I reached my office after the harrowing drive, I learned that a prospective client had canceled a business visit. The client had suddenly remembered it was her turn to go for the PTA meeting at school. All my effort furiously practicing the pitch while driving to work, and visualizing myself convincing her to accept my project proposal, was nullified.
Exasperated, I started my long 30-meter walk to the men’s room of my WeWork office at Vikhroli. My head felt heavy with the thought that nothing was going my way. I walked with drooping shoulders. My chin tried to make a dent in my love handles. My eyes counted every grain of mosaic on the tiles below. The housekeeping staff I usually greet on the way did not exist for me.
I pushed open the big black door to the men’s room, praying that nobody should be there. The last thing I wanted was the strain of greeting an acquaintance out of compulsion. To my relief, it was empty.
While I was ruminating about my ill-luck, a groovy tune emanating from the centralized music system managed to pierce through my distressing thoughts and make its way to my heart. Slowly, the music started running from my head to toe energizing me. It had a happy and light-hearted ring that made me dance spontaneously and involuntarily. All my worries collapsed on to the floor, and my dancing feet crumpled them. The music had instantly transformed me.
I realized that we tend to blow things out of proportion in our heads. A colleague who’s doing better, a bad hair day, a child who’s not getting good grades, a neighbor who’s moving into a bigger house, a fellow runner who is faster — just about anything can cause us to worry.
Instead of getting consumed by my worries, I found release in a simple act of madness. From then on, I make it a point to go to the men’s room whenever I am feeling low, and praying it’s empty.
Find your washroom dance moment. Say goodbye to worry.
