Dancing Queen.

 

Chicago, IL

If you have been following me for a while, you should be familiar with my love of music and movement.  I’ve told this story before, but it’s my parent’s fault: when my mother was pregnant with me, she would hold a pair of 1980s Panasonic adjustable over-the-ear headphones on top of her belly – the outline of my tiny feet, kicked to each synth bass loop.

After my arrival in ’88, dad had nothing but 8-tracks on repeat.  R&B, funk, reggae, and pop-rock hits from the era and times past, flooded our home.

Every so often, my sister and I accompanied my parents to small, local outdoor music events as one of the few children in the crowd. Dad gave his shoulders to climb on for a better view of the show.

With the band and my parents’ permission, the lead let us run on stage for a song or two to dance. I knew early on that movin’ and groovin’ swam through my DNA.

I share this common thread with another survivor who happens to live a little closer to home. Based in Chicago, she, like many others in our community, finds comfort in knowing that there are people who share this unique experience.

Nikki Mammano, a 26-year-old MBA student and dance instructor, thoroughly appreciates the art.

“Dance has always been a creative outlet for me. What I can’t express in my writing, I dance it out. It’s  my escape and meditation- a way to shut off my busy mind and just be in the moment. Movement is literally medicine; I couldn’t be productive without it.”

Back in 2019, Nikki suffered an unfortunate TBI (traumatic brain injury) after being hit by a truck carrying an amusement park ride. Sadly, her partner who sat in the backseat with her, did not survive.

Beyond the obvious shock of it all, she suffered impacts to the right side of her brain, leading to temporary paralysis to the left side of her body. Nikki developed post-traumatic amnesia – remnants of the first three weeks are gone.

Despite the fact that she occasionally deals with vertigo and tension headaches, her condition has become significantly better over time. I personally remember my own struggle of feeling off-balance after returning to my 9-to-5; vertigo would come on suddenly, disrupting my work day.

“Physical Therapy helped a lot with this. Turning was tough at first, but honestly, dancing and moving my body again helped heal me. I was walking in just a little over two months and back on my yoga mat in three. At five months, I went back to work – the dance studio after six.”

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In the aftermath of any sort of brain injury, the way you function throughout the world will most certainly change; the control center of your body has been damaged. Her and I both understand all too well, navigating your new normal.

“Mental effort is now strenuous. Everything takes me a lot longer. I am slower to learn, read, finish tasks, problem-solve and so on. I use different tools like Speechify so I can listen at the same time as reading – it helps me to concentrate and focus. I am always making lists and writing things down right away or will forget things.”

My decision to become more involved in adult dance, pushed the recovery process forward. Repetitive movement, muscle memory, release of tension in the body and general exercise all helped in bringing back my balance.

“I got this mug when I was in acute rehab. My mama got it for me because hot chocolate is my comfort drink. It’s really, really special to me.”

Last summer, Nikki was presented the opportunity to make her first professional appearance since the accident at a studio in DC.

“I remember the night before the showcase during our last practice, I broke down in tears. I told my coach, Abraham, that I felt like the accident put me behind in my dancing. I was reminded who was coming to see me - the most important people in my life. My mom, dad, and grandpa didn’t know if I’d even be able to walk again after my injuries, let alone dance. During that performance, I felt so much gratitude for all of the healing my body has endured. Gratitude to be alive.”

For Nikki, dance calms her anxiety and ultimately soothes her soul. It delivers a purpose that keeps her moving every day.

“Your medically defined symptoms are not just textbook definitions - they are a part of you. A beautiful part of you. Whatever it is you may struggle with - focus, problem-solving, emotional dysregulation - your symptoms do not define you. They are a part of you and are what makes you human. It’s okay to be different and there’s nothing wrong with having to use different tools and strategies to help you. Your uniqueness is what makes you beautiful.”

You can keep up with Nikki and follow her story on Instagram @nikki.mammano.

Fast5 Facts:

Define Success: Flourishing
Coffee or Tea of Choice: Green Tea
Who/What Is Your Motivator: My Mama
What Balances You: Movement
Favorite Color: Light Blue

Mood Music: Not a Victim – David Francisco

Reset to Redirect.

 

Cascade Coffee Works

Yes, it has been awhile – grab a cup of coffee and let’s chat:

The anticipation of my dance recital has come and gone; it was both a thrilling and exhausting experience. TakePause offered a performance full of collaborations: modern dance, tap, ballet and sprinkles of hip hop.

Over half of the participants were in multiple pieces – namely those who were no stranger to this particular program. I, on the other hand, chose to participate in 1 piece as a precaution; I wasn’t sure what to expect and didn’t want to make a massive commitment.

My group’s performance was placed near the end of the 2-hour show. This meant I had to sit in a puddle of anxiety before my debut each night.

Friday was by far the best and most taxing: the kickoff show. Most would agree that this production put out an extraordinary amount of energy. From the instructors, students and the crowd - everyone was extremely HYPE. For the dancers on stage, this drove us to dance harder and smile wider, giving the people what they want.

My friends decided they would join the Friday evening crowd, showing their unyielding support by yelling my name and cheering me on.

The entire production reminded me of showcases I’ve previously been in: theater performances and choir ensembles from ninth grade through my senior year of college [I was in the “Vagina Monologues” twice!] I became energized by the chaos happening backstage – lots of hair spray, makeup, people practicing their routines in the hallway. Rouge, purple and blue eye shadow, fishnet stockings.

The dancers acted as marketers, engineers, accountants, public servants, retired teachers in their day to day lives; they all had varied levels of experience. Some were true beginners; others have been dancing for years.

Into the City: SLU

Needless to say, by Sunday, I was ready to be done.

The remainder of May saw me entertaining an out-of-town cousin who came to visit Seattle and general research – personally and professionally – that will help lay the ground work for the rest of 2019.

In June, I took a mid-year trip home for 3.5 weeks – a much needed reprieve from fast life in the city. Before arriving in Iowa, I made a pit stop in Colorado to visit an old friend; we made space to reminiscence about our time as “Team Leads” at an Iowa based summer camp back in 2009. In between our long talks and meandering through Boulder, I was somehow convinced to tag along a hike at Estes Park - a beautiful excursion into the wonderment of nature.

Dream Lake - Estes Park, CO

Although I am not an outdoorsy person, I thought of this as a way to explore something new; I try to remain open minded. I also fell a few times on slick patches of snow – an unexpected surprise that left me with a giant bruise on my thigh. Lovely.

After my 3-day trip into the wild, I was ready for Iowa.

It felt good feel the presence of my parents – every time I return home, their aging becomes more and more evident. They ask me the same question they always do: “when are you moving back?”

I give them a blundering expression and respond with the usual: “I don’t know, yet.”

As enjoyable as it was, by the end of the 3 weeks, I was ready to leave – part of me sad, the rest missing my autonomy and anticipating summer which officially began June 21.

The first 6 months of the year have been hectic – everyone around me has been a bit worn down and to be honest, I wasn’t all that refreshed upon my return.

I thought I would have had more time in Iowa, quiet time, to write - I did not - instead, I spent those moments catching up and eating. There’s nothing wrong with that.

I spoke with my parents about my corporate career, book plans, blog plans, plans in general, so although I was missing that “refresh,” I thought I needed, I came back focused.

Maybe that was my version of refreshed?

I’ve made progress since returning to Seattle, however, when I sit down to write, facts, details and stories can become incredibly overwhelming. We’ve talked about this before. There. Is. Just. So. Much. To make it easier, I break everything into smaller, individual stories: my transition to Minneapolis, my brief stint in grad school, the stroke itself, the recovery, all of my “alternative rehabs,” [dance, acting classes] and the men that I dated in-between etc.

Who is involved? What happened? When? Where? Why?

[You know, the stuff I learned in Journalism 101 ions ago, ha].

I figured once I get the stories together, I can fill in the gaps with connection points that ultimately bring everything together. Wish me luck!

 Mood Music: BabyBird - Chloe x Halle

She's a Dancing Machine.

 

El Diablo Coffee

I never write, in detail, about the coffee shops I visit – to be fair, there’s never much to say about these particular spaces. For the most part, they are designed in a standard and quite uniform manner. But this one is interesting.

I’m posted up in Queen Anne – El Diablo – inside a two story Victorian style house, embellished in gaudy trim. The name itself reminds me of something out of the “Addam’s Family,” but less macabre; the home is painted in salmon and white. It doesn’t exactly help, though, that a devilish painting greets you at the entrance.  

Sitting in the open space on the second floor, the slanted ceilings house intermittent windows that shimmer God’s light.

 I try to guess what this area used to be; I’m not well versed in Victorian architecture. I literally have no fucking idea.  A make shift wall separates a group of well-coordinated tables and chairs from a bar. Just beyond the bar is a door leading to an outside deck. Freedom.

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My dance recital is around the corner and to be completely honest, I’m kind of nervous. That shouldn’t come as much of a shock - most people, particularly those who are not trained in performance art - would feel the same. To be in front of a crowd, hundreds of people - to bare your soul on stage - takes a certain amount of courage. It’s been something I’ve wanted to explore since moving to Seattle. The last time I performed for an audience, was an Improv class I took in Minneapolis about a year or so after my stroke. The Arts have played a significant role in my overall healing process.

 Dance.

Devil in a Pink Skirt.

Movement and music were my alternative versions of rehab: the dance instructor puts together choreographed routine that is repeated with each rehearsal – stag leaps, staggered movements, ronde de jambes in my case. Over and over again; it’s muscle memory. We breathe in unison. She calls our piece, “Rush”. It starts slow and is drawn out - there’s a sense of urgency that billow with each turn. Eventually the music flattens to a plateau and descends toward the end.

I watch the videos back and notice I look stiff. I don’t like this - it tells me I’m holding back somewhere. Loosen up. Trust your body. Feel the music. I get scared to make a mistake – I’ve done it before in rehearsal and roll my eyes, “ooooh my GOD!” I say under my breath and try to catch up where I’ve lost.

 Write.

In terms of my continued writing, I’ve spent some time recounting life in my small apartment in Hopkins, MN. The memory is a strong one; it was the first time in my adult life, that I lived alone. I stayed in that tiny abode for about 3 years before relocating to Seattle. It was my place of refuge when I desperately needed it. I went back to the website of the property management company for research - it seems some things have changed, including the price. Yikes!

 I made a point to remember some of the ups and downs in this [very] short passage below:

 “She coined this phase: “Sex and the City” single. Ages 26-29; the broker, blacker version of Carrie in all of her flaws. Knollwood Towers: the ambit of much pain and great pleasure. Isolated nights, she sunk deep within her blankets to muffle her screams as her anxiety and depression bubbled to the surface. Chain smoking on the balcony in times of distress. Make out sessions, movie nights, I love you’s, I hate you’s. The antiquated vanilla cement-brick building was built in 1969 - each unit had a balcony attached either front facing or to the back. She paid a monthly rent of $650 that would later hop to $700 - utilities baked in, with one parking space in the garage. A flat fee of $100 gave her ample coverage during the harsh Minnesota winters and extra storage space for overflow of her belongings.”

Never forget. I’m interested to see what else I remember.

Mood Music:  Gymnopédie No.1 - Erik Satie