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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
Old picture, new post Link in bio
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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Keep on dreaming, even if it breaks your heart.

The human body can be broken, but the human spirit is uncrushable.
If you decide you won’t let it be crushed.

I finally broke down and asked Jilissa about the pain in my knee.
It was tolerable, but has recently started getting worse.
I noticed a while back that when I bend my right knee, it felt like it was crunching under the knee cap. I had asked Jilissa about it, and she made a grimace face. Not good. She told me to watch it and try and be careful with it.
That was almost a year ago. For the most part it’s been okay, but I noticed last week that it was pretty consistently shooting pain in the same spot.
So I asked her.
Once again, grimace.
She said that under the knee cap, it’s not good. It could possibly need to be scraped. Dr’s usually say not to do the surgery unless it’s affecting your day-to-day like. “But, you’re a dancer, so.” She said that technology and modern medicine has come a long way, so I could possibly only be out for 3 weeks. But she’s not a Dr, so all of this could be way off.
I decided I’m gonna get it checked out anyway. Just to see.
I really don’t want to. I’m afraid I’ll be told not to dance. Or not to get on pointe. Which it my dream I’m working towards. Or that I wouldn’t get to do recital in June, which I have been looking forward to all year.
But, I can’t let this overwhelm me.
If I give up, then I really will never reach my dreams.
Sure, it’s a pretty tough pill to swallow to think that I may lose the one and only thing I really have left to hold on to. But I have to keep pushing forward.
Stopping ensures defeat.

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