I Took Up Folklórico As An Adult & It Saved My Mental Health

"Cinco, seis, siete, ocho. Metatarso. Dos a la izquierda. Tres a la derecha.” These are the only words occupying my brain on Wednesday and Friday evenings. But after a tough bout of postpartum depression, these counts have become more than a sequence of steps; they're an anthem of perseverance in the most unexpected way.

My second pregnancy was difficult from the start. The restless leg syndrome came on nightly like clockwork; the hernia made it difficult to walk; the brain fog was so incredibly thick that I once accidentally left my oven on all day, even while I took a two-hour nap. On the hardest days, I needed help going to the bathroom. I spent most of the pregnancy in pain, mourning my independence. By the end of my 42 weeks — for reference, a full-term pregnancy is 40 weeks — I couldn't wait to feel like my usual self. I craved the ability to move and use my body in a way I hadn't in almost a year. I dreamed of the day I would feel strong or, at the very least, coordinated again.

I birthed my baby boy in February 2023. Despite my coronavirus diagnosis, I expected to bounce back like I did the first pregnancy. A week passed, and I still hunched over as I walked. Two weeks later, I was still hanging on to furniture to get from one room to the next. It took months to get my mobility back fully, but by then, the sleep deprivation was so all-consuming as my baby boy refused to sleep at night and spent his days fussing and crying. Exhausted, frustrated, and mentally spent, I cried so often that I could feel those closest to me becoming concerned. 

But even after my mom and husband tried to intervene and my doctor tried prescribing me antidepressants (which I chose not to fill), I still didn't realize I was experiencing severe postpartum depression. Dr. Christine Coleman, Ph.D, a licensed marriage and family therapist specializing in the mental health of women of color, says, "10% to 15% of women experience postpartum depression, which is difficult to distinguish." She adds that symptoms can occur anywhere between weeks and months after delivery and last up to a year after.

I was in a vicious cycle of rolling out of bed early to feed the baby, making it so I lacked energy by the time my toddler woke up. I put on my mom hat while my emotions hung by a thread. I counted the minutes until my husband would come home and relieve me from my parenting duties, only to realize I couldn’t rest as an insurmountable amount of professional work awaited me day after day. I stayed up trying to catch up on work and often rolled into bed minutes before yet another morning feeding. Aside from being a freelance fashion and beauty editor, I also own a business, both of which were struggling because I didn't have the time or energy to give my all. And for someone who has historically gained personal worth from professional accomplishments, the feeling of failure was too much to bear.

I needed an escape from being only a mom and worker. I needed something that was just for me, something that let me move my body normally again. The gym was never for me, and while I loved sports as a kid, I didn't want to rely on a team to play again. I danced Mexican baile folklórico as a little girl, and I loved it. I only stopped because our dance teacher moved across the country, and since the Internet didn't exist in the same way then, it was impossible for my mom to find an alternative. Even as an adult, I watched folklórico dancers perform with a feeling of longing, and I promised myself I'd find a way to get back into it someday.

After a particularly difficult morning, I spontaneously called a local park that held weekly folklórico classes. I don't know if it was an act of desperation, a cry for help, or general curiosity. I don't think I even planned to sign up or pay for the class that day, but I did. On the phone, I repeatedly asked about the average age group for the class, and the woman assured me that the beginner class included people of all ages. To my surprise, on my first day with Ballet Folklorico Ollin, I towered over the rest of the students, making it impossible to blend in. Children as young as five can take the class, and they were the majority. It made for a good laugh and made me reconsider my participation — especially after a parent mistook me for the instructor — but I was there, had paid for the semester, and planned to see it through.

After the initial shock and embarrassment of looking like I could've birthed any one of those kids wore off, I immersed myself in the weekly class, which soon became twice a week. I finally felt like I was filling a void from decades prior. With my body moving the most it had in years, I began to feel good about myself again. The sense of accomplishment and my progress over the weeks was addictive. And what it did for my mind is something I didn’t expect. I felt happier and wasn't on the verge of tears every day. I don't know if it's the physical movement, the deep breathing, or the cultural connection, but I could feel my mommy brain being rewired. I felt like my old self — excitable, motivated, (admittedly) competitive, optimistic, and inspired as early on as a few classes in.

Even now, six months into my rekindled hobby, counting steps has become a meditative practice. For that hour I'm in class, nothing else matters. Even if I wanted to, I can't think about anything other than where my feet are going. My workload is nonexistent, the stresses of everyday life float away, and I'm not worried about the endless to-do list waiting for me when I get home. I feel totally and completely at peace — and slightly out of breath, of course. 

According to Coleman, while physical movement can undoubtedly aid with postpartum depression, counting folklórico steps aligns with psycho-social mental health treatments like Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT). "Because postpartum depression can include symptoms of anxiety, engaging in behavior changes that can help you feel more in control aligns with your focus on tangible tools like counting steps," she tells me. "This likely helped you fixate on something measurable, leading to lowered anxiety and healthy forms of control over your life."

I'm fortunate to have a support system that expresses concern before I could even identify a problem and that gives me room to work on myself as they provide a safe space for my kids. About 85% of mothers experience a mild and temporary form of depression after having a baby, and about 10% to 15% experience clinical postpartum depression. Seeking a medical provider, who could determine the best treatment plan, is recommended for even the slightest shift in mood or motivation postpartum. In a world where society glamorizes perfection, it's easy to feel alone or like a bad mom for feeling sad or overwhelmed. However, normalizing the conversation around postpartum depression can help others as well as yourself. "The more we can have these honest conversations, the less alone we feel,” Coleman says. “And the more likely we are to verbalize the concerns that can lead us to receive appropriate support."

For me, baile folklórico has become essential to my mental, physical, and spiritual wellbeing. And I've come to enjoy it so much that I even plan social and work events around my dance schedule. I've turned down invitations to exclusive locations, like the Houdini mansion, opted out of meeting celebrities, and declined lavish dinner reservations because I prefer the feeling of literally and figuratively tapping into my culture in a humble gym setting. 

It's unclear if my dance shoes will ever hit a public stage, but two hours per week have made me a better mom, a more productive worker, and an all-around happier person — all because I took the time to do something just for me. I've since graduated to the intermediate level on Wednesdays, but I still spend my Friday nights in the front row of Maestro Javier Verdin’s class among a sea of cute kids, which also provides its fair share of serotonin.