Mental Health Minute: Finding light in movement — how dance helped me and can help you
Mental Health Minute
March 13, 1997 1 a.m.
Come Death Come
Let me breathe you in like a breath of fresh air
For you are the comfort amidst my torment
You are the light at the end of my black tunnel.
I will never understand why life is so
Nothing but an endless spin of uncertainty and fall.
Hurdling me in and out of this bubble
Wondering if this world is reality or hell; or both.
But you, oh death, you tempt me with your ways.
You’re sly to urge, but beckoning me loudly
You’re out there waiting, waiting for me to give in.
To these fears, to this sadness, this hopelessness.
I am not strong, I am not good, I am not me. I cannot give in.
My love is everything I have and everything I have not. And what shall I hold onto?
The rain gets louder, the anger ferments in my stomach.
You are not alone and you know it.
I feel your claws clenched around my heart, is it hard to hold onto?
When you meet with my life, perhaps then I will find peace.
And perhaps then my story will be revealed.
I tried to end my life in college.
I was lost in a cycle of depression, manic episodes, emotional pain and numbness. My journal entries (as above) during that time were filled with references to rain, feeling trapped in a bubble — poetry about loneliness, hopelessness and a constant questioning of my worth.
I felt unseen, unheard and unworthy.
Over time, these feelings compounded. It’s that feeling you have when you’re about to break up with someone — the feeling of being “done” with the relationship.
Only this breakup was with myself. I crammed every single prescription and over the counter pill I had at my disposal into my mouth and called it a day.
I wanted out. No more. Please, God, end it…
I lived.
Somewhere in that experience, a voice inside me said, “no, you’re not done, you do have purpose.”
I began to realize that life (all life) is a miracle, and I wasn’t alone. My journey with depression did not end, but what shifted, however, was my perspective. I began to understand that pain, while excruciating, could be a teacher.
Over time, I learned to face my depression not as an all-consuming force but as a part of me — a piece to acknowledge, manage and learn from rather than something to define me. Pain, physical or emotional, is never stagnant — it always changes and moves.
So it became about finding the tools to move through it.
One of the most profound tools in my healing process has been dance. Dance gave me an outlet for my pain when words felt inadequate.
It allows me to move through emotions, physically release tension and reconnect with my body when depression leaves me feeling disconnected. The rhythm and flow of movement, paired with music, provides solace.
Numerous studies show that dance is a powerful tool for mental health, combining physical activity with emotional expression and social connection. Research shows that dance reduces stress, anxiety and depression by releasing endorphins and lowering cortisol levels. Movement activates the brain’s motor and emotional centers, fostering improved mood and cognitive flexibility.
Dancing in groups also strengthens social bonds, reducing loneliness and enhancing a sense of belonging. Creative expression through dance can help process trauma and regulate emotions, promoting resilience. These benefits make dance an effective and accessible therapeutic practice for mental health support.
Our community has been wounded by many suicides in recent years. These dig at my heart, which is, in part, why I’m sharing this story — and why I am so passionate about Steamboat Dance Theatre’s Dance Vitality program and mental health in general.
This brand-new program provides free therapeutic movement classes designed to help others in our community navigate their own struggles with mental health.
Dance Vitality is about more than exercise — it’s about creating a safe space where individuals can process emotions, build connections and rediscover joy in movement. Our program serves as a resource for anyone who might have struggles.
It’s a reminder that healing isn’t linear and that we all need tools to help us move through life’s most difficult moments.
No matter where you are in your mental health journey, know that you are not alone. I am now beyond grateful for living through that experience, and if I can help even one person, then putting this out there is worth it. Through movement, connection and support, there is light to be found.
Whatever you do, just keep going. Let’s dance together.
Lori Biagi is the executive director of the Steamboat Dance Theatre.

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