On Friday night, I participated in my first dance recital in more that fifteen years. I would perform on occasion when my kids were little, and even sang in a band for years. Performing, while always a little nerve-wracking, was more exciting and fun to me until the anxiety weighed more in recent years.

So getting back on that stage, with its bright lights and an amazing group of women who were also willing and able to tap their hearts out was an amazing feat. I knew the steps, had practiced enough, and was ready.

What I hadn't anticipated was the surge of adrenaline and panic making it so I couldn't really move my legs that well. In the 2 minutes we were on stage I smiled, I turned when the group turned, I went in and out of my lines appropriately, but my feet did not really do the steps. The taps did not make the sounds I'd practiced, and my mind felt blank. 

The song ended and I came off the stage a little bit in shock and wanting to cry. But I did it, and focused on what...