When I walked into my first Argentine tango class almost a year ago, I had no idea what I was searching for, but I inadvertently stumbled upon something I had been longing for. I had spent years in overdrive, hustling at work, with my unruly horse and at home. Tango confronted me with how I show up relationally—often trying to anticipate outcomes, striving to control a situation, trying to be good for my partner—all efforts in doing rather than being. I saw where I at times I waffled in decisions, not always trusting myself to commit to one confident step. Leaning how to follow in the dance, instead of leading, felt vulnerable and hard.

Imagine standing, facing another human. Behind each of you is a doorway that leads into an exquisitely unique landscape, marked with varying terrains and cavernous depths. One might have a dense forest veined with creeks and rivers, or perhaps an expansive ocean with vibrant coral reefs beneath it. Another may have a desert landscape adjacent to a jungle. Every human has an inner landscape, whether we have explored it or not.

In the late 60s psychologist Stephen Karpman introduced the concept of the Drama Triangle, a dynamic triad of three archetypes, the victim, the persecutor, and the rescuer. As a culture, we are enamored, even obsessed, with this triangle, which features in most acclaimed series and films. The dynamic consists of three main players: The victim, who tends to yield to the pressure of the rescuer or persecutor, taking a stance of “woe is me” and offering excuses over seeking out creative solutions. The persecutor, who often engages in a blame/defense communication strategy, deflecting blame from themselves onto others. And finally, my personal temptation, the rescuer, marred with guilt if they see suffering of the victim and don’t step in; they also may subconsciously feel rewarded or validated for efforts to help.

At our core, we as humans deeply want to belong, and be heard and understood. We want to be seen. So being misunderstood can be incredibly painful. These exercises are like a seatbelt, a structure that we can buckle into, in order to ensure safety in the ride and journey through conflict. Once the turbulence passes, you can unbuckle.

Buddhism speaks to the ways in which our suffering is perpetuated by our clinging desire for things to be different than what they are. Our attachment to a wanting or an expectation that things should be a different way exacerbates the suffering.

The payoff for anxiety is often limited. Where we might think dress rehearsing the tragedy and our anticipation of the negative outcomes is helping us, it is often trapping us. We are here to live, to be, and to experience life. Living in anxiety can feel like playing out our worst fears over and over rather than experiencing presence of the beauty and the life all around us. It can erode away our resiliency for when something truly challenging happens. Brene Brown names this eternal waiting for the other shoe to drop “foreboding joy.”