Jan Brierton revisits the clubbing euphoria of her past to find remedy on the dancefloor

Life has been life-ing. And I haven’t been coping.

The last 12 months have been relentless. Mothering, Wife-ing, Daughter-ing. Working. Let me be clear; it has been the greatest of privileges to walk alongside my children through adolescence, while at the same time journeying through advanced ageing with my parents. But it’s also been exhausting. Physically, mentally and emotionally.

Although firmly in midlife, I feel like I’m cosplaying 35 and I’m still not sure I’ve quite got the hang of this parenting lark. The early stuff; the feeding, the dressing, the playgroups, the keeping them alive – I knew what my role was then. These days though, that role is dynamic and changing all the time. I’m a banker, an emotional whipping boy, an embarrassing companion, an alarm clock, a friend, a confidant, a life advisor, a schedule planner, a nurse and a cook. And that’s all before 1pm.

In an adjacent life role, I find myself as an only child now. My beloved brother died eight years ago, meaning I am now the “responsible adult in the room” at my dad’s hospital appointments. This last year my parents, through various health issues, confidently deferred to me all queries in relation to all their medical needs. It is my sole responsibility to keep on top of the paperwork, appointments, medication and treatment plans. Of course, this is an honour and I do all that I can with love and without conditions. But I struggle too. I don’t know how to be a daughter and a kind of mother to them both.

Try as I might be resilient and to just get on with things, the overwhelm feels huge some days. And well-meaning advice urging me to “find time for yourself; would you take up (insert wellness activity here) class?” seems so ludicrous that my overwrought brain immediately reads it as condescending, even when it isn’t.

I loathe gyms, exercise classes and “wellness” preaching. In the past when I’ve felt overstretched, stressed or anxious, I’ve found a remedy not on a mat inhaling and exhaling. My medicine has long been a good dance in my kitchen disco. Volume turned right up, a familiar tune; usually some banging 1990s club anthem; and the scuffed linoleum is my dancefloor. I can lose myself in the beats and physically feel my distress lift from my shifting shoulders and punching arms. But this time around, my little Roberts Radio and a shuffle round the table in my pyjamas just wouldn’t cut it. I needed to up the ante.

“We need to dance” I texted my friend Richard, along with a screen shot of the Saturday night DJ line-up for Fidelity Studios in Queen Street: Luke Una, a pioneering UK club DJ with decades of sets under his belt who promised to deliver pure unfiltered dancefloor magic. In a new modern venue, with a custom-built sound system. On a Saturday night! This was the balm that I needed. I wanted to revisit the clubbing euphoria of my past; I wanted to shake off my present and leave it all on the dance floor.

Saturday came, and after visiting Mam and Dad, I carefully planned what I’d wear: an Adidas Y3 zip-through dress, and trainers of course. Me and my plus one arranged to meet in town at 9.30pm. By getting there early, we could ride the wave of music as it built into a late night “hands in the air” takeover. Queuing outside in the cold night chill, I earwigged on a similarly aged group of men talking about investment shares and bitcoin. They then discussed a meditation app that one of them used to get to sleep. “Jaysus,” I hissed, “it’s all a bit middle-aged isn’t it for a Saturday night”. “That’s because we are middle aged,” Richard reminded me.

Next up was the drugs. I couldn’t go out dancing without the drugs.

We made a quick trip to Tesco just up the road to see if they had any ibuprofen, what with my bulging disc and hip bursitis, and Richard with his plantar fasciitis. The drugs were essential to keep us both limber, upright and pain free.

The bouncer complimented me on my frock before he pressed a stamp on my wrist. It brought back memories of the ones that back in the day you might still have an imprint of on a Tuesday from the previous Saturday, because you simply hadn’t gone home. Ah the good old days! We found a good spot to set our drinks down and sway as the tunes warmed up. I spotted other clubbers inserting high fidelity-filtered earplugs to protect their ears. This is what clubbing looks like now, I thought. Sure we’re all on the same dancefloor.

And that dancefloor was an instant antidote to my stress. The music kissed my ears, the collective heat of the clubbers warmed me, and as Richard and I mouthed the repetitive words to some excellent house music, I forgot completely about the heaviness I had collected over the past months. As the music washed over me, for the first time this year, I began to feel less burdened.

There is a heavily memed scene showing up on TikTok and Instagram, from the Apple TV show Your Friends & Neighbors. Which shows John Hamm’s character dancing in a crowded nightclub in a dreamlike state of euphoria. He’s beaten and bruised, but he’s pain-free, lost in the music. But dancing as a form of medication has scientific backing. Dancing improves cardiovascular health as a form of aerobic exercise. So you can burn calories without the need for horrible leggings. The somatic movement while clubbing releases physical tension and stress. A medical study carried out in Brazil found that synchronised dancing to music encourages a sense of unity within a group and raises pain threshold – maybe there was no need for that ibuprofen after all? This is due to the release of mood boosting endorphins, the body’s natural feel-good chemicals, during dancing, creating a sense of belonging and togetherness.

There is something about dance music and being in a club and the collective euphoria that has always uplifted me. Like every generation, I look back with nostalgia to my twenties, but clubbing provided me with community in the ‘90s. Dr Julia C Basso, a neuroscientist and director of the Embodied Brain Lab explains that when people dance with each other it creates a sense of unity among those sharing a dancefloor. “That whole social network of brain areas is lighting up, firing together, so there is a lot of brain synchrony happening.” Is it any wonder then, that the club gave me such a sense of refuge that Saturday night in Dublin?

My body remembers the restorative rhythm of my clubbing days. Dancing was my therapy; there was no need for talk or unpicking of emotions or discussing difficult family dynamics. For those few hours, the rhythms regulated me and the dancefloor served as a place of healing.

You see, therapy doesn’t happen exclusively in counselling centres or clinics, on doctor’s couches or over phone consultations. Sometimes you can find all the therapy you need in the strobe lights of a club or in the four-on-the-floor rhythm of a classic house anthem like Marshall Jefferson’s Move Your Body.

Jan is a writer and poet, she’s heading out on a poetry and storytelling UK tour with Henry Normal, or you can catch her on Instagram on @jbgoodtome

Club hopping

Fancy hitting the dancefloor but don’t want to bump into your friends’ children or revisit the 2am return home?

Fidelity Studio

A mash-up of the minds behind Parnell Street’s audiophile bar The Big Romance and Dublin craft brewers Whiplash, Fidelity Studio merges craft beer bar, Asian-fusion restaurant and music venue featuring local DJs and international guests, it’s all about the music. fidelitybar.ie

Before Midnight

Conceptualised by DJ Annie Mac, Before Midnight is an annual festival and UK and Irish tour that’s designed for people who like to dance but also sleep. Kicking off at 7pm and wrapping up at the stroke of midnight, you can pick up tickets for her Gunnersbury Park festival set in September right now, or keep an eye on her social media for her tour dates. beforemidnight.co.uk

Club 30 at Monroes

A recurring club night in Galway City’s westend, the over-30s event kicks off from 6pm until 10pm upstairs in Monroes. Playing nostalgic hits, new favourites, slow sets or tub-thumping sing-alongs from the 1980s, 1990s and 2000s. monroes.ie

Zero 7 at Wigwam

Selective Memory presents UK duo Zero 7 at Wigwam on March 28 where they’ll dig out some of their favourite records for a special DJ set. Reliving their trip-hop sound through their four albums, including their Mercury Music Prize-nominated debut album, Simple Things, numerous EPs and singles. selectivememory.ie

This article originally appeared in the Spring 2026 issue of IMAGE Magazine.