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In the midst of the most emotionally stifling moments in my life, I have chosen to move. Whether I'm stressed out from work, a relationship, or simply life in general, I have always found solace in the rhythm of running, the flow of yoga, and the freedom of dance.

Different types of stress effect me in different ways. If I'm stressed out from a relationship on the rocks, I find myself making plans with my girlfriends to go out dancing on a Friday night. In my first two relationships that ever meant anything, I gave myself so completely to both individuals that I lost sight of me. In both instances I spent way too much time with my other half. My world was directly related to my boyfriend's family, friends, interests, and life. It seems funny to say this now, but I literally felt as though I couldn't breathe without the identity of my partner. To become so completely consumed with another that you begin to feel like you're sharing a lung with that individual is not only smothering it's stressful. In an effort to release myself from the tight hold of a relationship that needs ending, I turn to the dance floor. In the darkness, where no one can see me I am free to close my eyes, raise my arms high, swing my hips, and lose myself inside the beats of the overpowering escape of music. It's through dancing that I not only can move again, but I can find my own happiness, one I create for myself without the help of a man.

It is through movement, that I found the strength to move on through the most difficult emotional time in my life. When my father, my soul mate and best friend, was diagnosed with cancer, I turned to running anywhere and everywhere I could. I was scared, but you see, my dad was the strongest, most positive man I have ever met, and nothing would stop him. After all, at 70, he was the oldest broker trading on the floor of the New York Commodities Exchange. His entire life he had conquered everything he had ever set out to do, and I had no doubt that cancer wasn't about to stop him from being larger then life. However, when I was told that dad needed a triple bypass surgery to keep him stable before doctors removed his left lung, I was terrified and pretty sure of what was yet to come. I moved in with my father and brother and we both tried our best to support him throughout his chemotherapy treatments. During the day I would make turkey sandwiches for my dad, alongside a glass of orange juice, and the dozen or so pills he needed to take. I would watch

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