Dance like no one is watching
Finding wellness through rhythm, flow, and gentle movement
That morning, my body spoke in the language of refusal. My migraine was so severe that I couldn’t get out of bed. I was in pain, feeling dizzy, nauseous, and exhausted beyond what seemed normal. I was unable to leave the bed, and even the act of calling in sick to work felt monumental, as though I was dragging my voice up from some deep and unreachable well. Painkillers brought no relief. Time became a blur of heavy lids and muffled sounds, weeks folding into each other like damp sheets.
If you think of burnout, you’re close, but not quite there. This was something larger and darker, something that had been growing quietly inside me for years. A toxic workplace had saturated my body with anxiety. I felt congested with stress and anxiety that had accumulated and been stored for years, each moment of tension absorbed and stored until I became brittle with it. Now, my body demanded reckoning.
I remained encapsulated in that state of anxiety and exhaustion for a long time, but with support and time, I began to recover. I left my job, and living my life – not just existing in a dark room – seemed possible again. When people asked how I was feeling, I described the experience as “stiffness” in my body, being “unable to move,” “frozen” by anxiety, “paralysed.” I later reflected on the language I was using and how it echoed my body’s cries for help and for movement.
It was on May 21st last year when it happened - a date etched into my memory for its strangeness and clarity. That date is significant for me not only because I took the first step in my recovery, but also because it’s a special celebration in my Bulgarian culture. It’s called Nestinarstvo, a mystical ancient ritual still practiced in some villages in the Strandzha mountains in southeast Bulgaria, and also in northern Greece. It’s a sacred festival of fire and dance, where Nestinari dance to the beat of drums, barefoot on sizzling embers without burning their feet, miraculously, while holding icons of Saints Constantine and Helena above their heads.
The ritual is usually performed late in the evening when people gather in the village square. It is believed that the Nestinari reached a religious state of trance while dancing and afterwards explained that they didn’t feel any pain. The belief is that the saints possess their bodies, giving them the transcendent, spiritual power to dance on fire and protect their skin from burning.
As with many religious practices, it’s a symbolic ritual that speaks to common beliefs in the purifying power of fire, which burns away evil and keeps illness at bay. It also marks a new cycle when the old is burned down – everything that doesn’t serve us, everything that holds us back – making way for the new. While I’m not sure how I feel about the ritual itself, the symbolic act of breaking free from my toxic job and the inertia that had held me in its spell for so long made me tremble. It was as if my ancestors were reminding me who I was and how my cultural values could help me navigate this difficult period for my own good.
In the months that followed, I began piecing myself back together. I sought support, not only for my mind but for my body, too. I dedicated time to my career development and writing, and I began exploring wellness practices that helped me emerge from this experience stronger, more grounded, focused, and self-aware.
Slowly, I rediscovered movement - at first hesitant, small gestures, then something bigger, fuller, messier. Dance movement became both metaphor and practice.
When I say dance movement, I mean many things:
Going to gigs in packed London venues and dancing in the crowd, feeling the energy of the music in my body.
Dancing in the living room as if no one is watching (and hopefully no one is watching).
Dancing with my daughter to her favourite tunes, shaking off our day and having fun.
But I also mean something else, which I’ve been exploring for a while: a movement flow that each person creates by listening to their body and following its natural rhythm.
I later learned about something called Dance Movement therapy, which is exactly what it sounds like: a psychotherapy practice that supports healing through dance movement.
What dance movement therapy can do for you
Dance Movement Therapy is about creating a dialogue through movement. Its power comes from its ability to mirror life’s everyday rhythms and cycles. For people feeling stuck, anxious, or out of sync with themselves, it offers a way to express what words often can’t. It’s used for everything from stress reduction to trauma healing, but its beauty is in its simplicity. Imagine moving through emotions, letting rhythm guide you rather than being confined by thoughts or judgment. By moving in ways that feel natural, you’re not performing or striving; you’re simply being.
It’s not about performance or mastery; it’s about presence. Letting the body find its own language, one gesture at a time.
Movement doesn’t need to be complex or choreographed; it just needs to come from a place of connection to the body’s flow. There’s something primal about it: the simple, repetitive patterns of dance can help soothe and regulate the nervous system, syncing us with the body’s own internal “music.” Dance isn’t just a celebration; it’s a reclamation.
Why start now
In January, when the world is loud with fitness resolutions and goals, this kind of movement feels like a whisper. An invitation to step away from perfection, to invite something softer, more human. To move not for the sake of burning calories, but to feel aligned. It’s a reminder that self-care doesn’t need to be intense or performance-oriented; it can be playful, intuitive, and even joyful.
What’s truly special about dance movement is its accessibility - no dance experience is required. You’re simply asked to let go, let the body lead, and allow your own rhythm to unfold. This approach to wellness isn’t about fixing ourselves but about learning to move with more ease and authenticity. With every step, there’s a chance to reconnect with ourselves, to feel at home in our own bodies.
If you’d like to try, start small - a stretch, a sway, a spin. No one is watching. You don’t have to explain. You only have to begin.
Try one thing to read, watch, and listen to
Read: This book is a good place to start: Dance Movement Therapy: Theory, Research, and Practice by Helen Payne.
Watch: You can have a taste of dance movement therapy in this gorgeous video where Ekin Bernay takes us through a self-accepting and self-care practice.
Listen: The Psychology Talk podcast, episode: Dance/Movement Therapy with Therapist Erica Hornthal
And, if you’re already curious and want to try it for yourself, I researched a few options for you:
In Brighton: Embodies practices
In London: Embody
In Manchester: 5Rhythms
Thanks you so much for being here. If you enjoyed this post, I’d be forever grateful if you share it with others, too.
Until next time,
Nataliya x