22. The Comeback Nobody Saw Coming (Including Me)

This week, Dino is in his comeback season—tech troubles, retrogrades, and all. From broken mics to old friendships revisited, he opens up about what it really means to return to yourself. Then, listener emails pour in with stories of resilience: the dancer rediscovering her rhythm, the mom reclaiming her body, the breakup glow-up, the friend group exit, and the apartment key that symbolized choosing peace over passion. It’s an episode about growth, grace, and the quiet power of coming back—on your own terms.

Transcript

hello everyone and welcome to i hear you babe. we have got a fun episode for you today — a bunch of emails that you all sent to ihearyoubabepod@gmail.com and some fun stuff up front to chit chat about. this week’s topic was comeback stories.

i’m excited to read these emails today because i feel like i’m in my comeback season. mercury went into retrograde yesterday, so you already know things are a little chaotic. to know me is to know that mercury retrograde always rears her ugly head here at salt drop — that’s where i record the pod. the camera corner that records live videos for our online platform broke this week. it no longer charges, so now i have to rely on the battery, which i forget to plug in half the time. fascinating, right? and then the studio microphone went too — they’re $375, so when they go, it hurts. but we use them constantly, and i’m admittedly rough with them. anyway, the point is: we’re still here.

today’s episode is all about comeback season. i’m going on a bit of a reunion tour with some friends i had a falling out with, and i’m excited. i’ve had time away, done the work, and feel ready. i’m not a bounce-back-in-ten-minutes kind of person. if there’s conflict, i need time to process, to really feel it out before I reengage. but what we’re not going to do is be gaslit.

my background is in negotiation — i have a degree in environmental policy and planning, and i spent most of my time studying negotiation tactics. when more than two people are in a dialogue, alliances form, and those alliances shift constantly. so in one of these situations, it feels like a group against me. and i’m not playing victim, but i also think they’re mad at the wrong person. at some point, everyone needs to grow up.

the only other thing going on in my life right now is that i’m teaching nonstop. three classes today, four tomorrow, three on wednesday — it’s a lot. if you’re in new york, though, we’re hosting a sample sale at salt drop black friday weekend — thursday through sunday after thanksgiving. there’ll be louboutins, jimmy choos, manolos, roger viviers, moschino, jil sander — even some men’s stuff. it’s going to be so good.

alright, let’s get into these emails.

the one where i came back to myself
hi dino, i’ve been with you since the barre3 days. front row, right corner, always pretending i wasn’t dying. when you started salt drop, i followed because i needed the version of myself that believed in movement again. last year i stopped coming — everything felt too heavy. then one night, you posted “you can start again in the middle.” i saw it at 3am, and the next morning i booked a class. it was like nothing had changed and everything had changed. you said, “you’re allowed to come back,” and i did. that’s my comeback story.

this one’s beautiful. i love that idea — simplifying the comeback. you don’t have to be “in shape” to start moving again. that’s literally what we do here.

the rehearsal room
i’m a dancer. i used to be a working dancer until 2020 when everything stopped. i didn’t realize how much of my identity was tied up in that word until it disappeared. i found salt drop in my living room and cried through the first class — you tricked me into healing with house music. fast forward three years: i just booked my first show again. small stage, nothing glamorous, but when i took that first bow, i thought, “holy shit, i’m back.”

i love that. congratulations. we are so tied to identity — dancer, teacher, whatever — that when it shifts, we lose our center. i’ve felt like a failure at times because salt drop isn’t where i want it to be yet, even though i know we’re doing good work. but you can’t just wait for things to come to you. you have to go get it.

the cut bangs quit job comeback
i had a breakdown in the bathroom at my ad agency and cut my own bangs with kitchen scissors. i quit and signed up for your 7:30am class the next day. that was six months ago. now i freelance, walk to the studio, and actually like my mornings. every time you say, “leave what doesn’t serve you,” i picture my old boss’s face. best therapy ever.

i love that. and yes, the bangs always grow back.

the mom comeback
i’m writing this between school drop-off and folding laundry. i used to take your barre3 classes before i had kids and lost myself for a while. moving again has been the hardest and best thing. salt drop made me feel strong again — not in a “bounce back” kind of way, but in a “my body still belongs to me” kind of way.

that’s such a good line — my body still belongs to me. i’m stealing that.

which one
you talk about liking your mornings like it’s a love story. this year i started waking up at 5am to walk before work — no phone, no noise. i thought i was chasing discipline, but i ended up finding peace.

okay, i love this — but please bring your phone, just in case. that said, i get it. when i say “start before you feel ready,” that’s what i mean. it’s about the messy action. if you don’t want to do something, do it immediately. it builds strength.

the breakup glow up
i got bangs, i got abs, and i got therapy. the real comeback wasn’t any of that — it was learning how to sit alone on a sunday and not want to crawl out of my own skin. you once said, “peace looks boring until you’ve lived through chaos.” i felt that. my comeback is boring, and i love it.

yes — boring is better. don’t invite me to the party, i don’t want to go.

the stage left
i’m an actor — or was. the pandemic wiped my savings and confidence. i started bussing tables, telling myself it was temporary. four years later, i’m still here. then i found i hear you babe. i’d listen while bussing tables. it reminded me i was still creative. last month i auditioned again and got a small role. my comeback: stage left, lights on.

that might win best email. stories are such a powerful way to connect.

the one with the dog
i adopted a senior rescue after my breakup, thinking i’d do something good. turns out she rescued me. every morning we walk, i breathe, i move again. you said, “start small, but just start.” so i started with her leash — and now i’m starting to feel alive again.

adorable. i’m actually about to adopt another cat myself — gregory.

the friend group exit
you know the friendships you outgrow but don’t want to admit you did? that was me last year. it was the loneliest season, but also the cleanest. i stopped pretending to be okay with the gossip and energy drain. my comeback happened the night i stayed home, made pasta, lit a candle, and didn’t feel fomo — just peace. solitude is the glow up.

preach. solitude really is the glow up.

the apartment key
i’ve been with you since barre3 west village. one day in class you said, “if you can’t release it, at least stop holding on to it.” i’d been living with my boyfriend for three years — routines, shared calendars, the whole thing. but inside, it was gone. one night after salt drop, i looked at him scrolling on the couch and realized i was lonelier with him than i’d ever been alone. so i left. no drama. i gave him his key back and kept mine.

that was a year ago. the key sits in a drawer in my new apartment. i can’t throw it away yet — not because i want him back, but because it reminds me i finally chose myself. my comeback wasn’t loud, but steady. i’m paying my own bills, walking to the studio, cooking for myself, and learning that peace can be louder than passion. every time you say, “the work isn’t to get better, it’s to come back to yourself,” i feel it.

that’s beautiful. peace can be louder than passion. that’s it right there.

there’s something magical about this community — both here and at salt drop. in class, there’s the music, the movement, the togetherness. here, it’s stories, connection, and honesty. i’m so grateful to everyone who writes in and shares a piece of themselves.

if you haven’t already, check out the patreon — there’s video episodes, behind-the-scenes stories, and more. and please keep sending your stories to ihearyoubabepod@gmail.com.

love you, talk to you next week.