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Emilee

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My front facing camera broke on my phone, making my already limited picture taking even MORE limited. Have a throw back from last spring. I have a blog post in the works. Life has been kinda nutty, my laptop *also* bit the dirt, and things have been kind of overwhelming. Y’all are always on my mind, though! You’ll be hearing from me soon. 💕
Classes yesterday brought to you in part by @leakycon (I don’t usually dress up for costume week, but i do try and incorporate Harry Potter to some degree 🤷🏼‍♀️)
New blog post, link in bio!
My friend Bailey and her company @companythreesixty made this and I have no more words to add. It’s perfect. #Repost @catchingbreaths with @get_repost ・・・ Why didn’t I report? I didn’t report because I thought that if I’m in a relationship with someone, it meant it was equally my fault. I thought the years of unhealthy feelings towards myself which ensued, were still invalid since it could have been worse. I thought I shouldn’t tell my Momma until a couple of years later on a beautiful mountain walk together, and even then, I softened the story from shame for how I’d appear to the person I love the most. I didn’t report because we live in a world where men use sentences like “it can always be worse” as psychological shrapnel. A world that tells us we should have done more to stop it. A world that, even when I remember the attempts to push away as clearly as consciousness cinema, I was scared to push too hard because I didn’t want to make someone mad. A world that makes me worry at sharing, because I have young students and ‘should be a role-model’: with a role model being pure, respectable, elite, undamaged. Now, a mother, wife, champion, boss... I still worry to report as innocuously as through a #WhyIDidntReport hashtag, lest I somehow appear less for having shared. But as someone who’s survived a darkness far worse than that described, and Shawshanked her way to a life of light- save for second glances over shoulders- I can say that the hardest person to report to is actually... yourself. It’s the you that you had once hoped to be. The you that you’ll never be again. The you that you wish you could go back and protect. The you you wish you had been (louder, less in shock, less weak). The you that once was but was taken. To all the Yous you once were reading this (and the You in me who still feels cemented by shame)... this should never have happened. It doesn’t matter how loud, quiet, forceful... how well you knew them.... You didn’t deserve to lose You because your body wasn’t left as yours. None of us do. None of us ever will. There is no good way to end this bit of writing, because the truth is: it hasn’t ended. A perfect sentence will not wrap this up. Y
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Teaching on my birthday is my favorite thing. Hi, I’m 30, and I gave full sized cupcakes to three year olds and I’m sure their parents hate me

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Go One More.

 I missed dance class on Monday, and frankly, with the week I’ve had, I thought about skipping today.
I was afraid going into it that the mental drain and toll the last couple of days has had on me would hinder my dancing more than help.
Sometimes, pushing through and going anyway helps break through some of the mental strain. Other times, it takes a toll on my confidence and my dancing lacks greatly.
I don’t like those days.
I haven’t had one in a while, but I was certain today would break that record.

I considered it.
All of it.
What am I doing in dance anyway?
What is it going to do for me?
Where am I going to go with it?
What’s the point of pursuing these dreams of mine? I’d have tons more time if I didn’t fight for this.
Why fight?
My health makes it difficult, too.
Why fight…
It’s hard. People don’t think it’s a necessity. They think it’s a waste of time.
A fleeting dream.
Grow up, Emilee.

I went anyway.
Started feeling a little light headed part way through it.
But I shut off my brain and kept going.

The last third of the class, Jilissa starts talking really serious to us.
That she wanted us to consider the Holiday Showcase.
If we didn’t want to do it, that’s okay, but she expected each of us to do it.
She said she used the word “expected” because it has the connotation of if we didn’t she’d be disappointed.
And she said this in a lighthearted way, not being mean or anything.

Last year, I wasn’t in the Holiday Showcase. I wasn’t asked, I didn’t even really hear about it.
Granted, I was only a few weeks into classes around this time, and got into a car accident last November that put me out for a couple weeks.
But this year, I got invited to be a part.

It’s gonna take practicing, for sure. But we’ll work on the dance in class.
With this kind of thing, if I know the steps and can work on them at home, I’ll do well.
Well… well enough to get on that stage.
It puts the pressure on.
But, this is what I love…

I left that dance class with a spring in my step.
Dancing is part of me…
Sure, I’m not that great yet, but that’s what time and dedication is for.
I’ll get there.
It takes me to a different place, it helps me escape everything, if only for an hour.
And when I leave, all the burdens that seemed to be the size of boulders walking in feel like nothing more than the size of a bean.

I got this.
Everything’s gonna be okay.

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