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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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Gotta get back to Hogwarts Gotta get back to school Gotta get myself to Hogwarts Where everything is magicooooool
Mischief Managed.

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Keep Fighting

Part of the journey is being confronted with a certain, extremely high, brick wall.
You have two choices when you reach it:

  1. Run.
    You can turn around and never look back. Give up and say it’s too hard. You made it that far, that’s something to speak of, right?
  2. Or, you can climb it.
Say you pick number 2. You begin your ascension, gripping the next brick you can reach and doing all you can to pull yourself up. But some of the bricks aren’t stable. These bricks usually begin as thoughts. “You can’t do this.” “Who are you kidding?” “Look at yourself. You’re nothing like you’re supposed to be.” “You can’t do this. It’s too hard. You’re too old. Just give up. It’s too late to start this, now.” “Everyone else is excelling so much quicker than you are. Why even try?” “You’re never going to make it.” “ooo, that’s uncomfortable, better not do that.”
Newsflash: If it was comfortable, everyone would be doing it.
This road we’re on, it isn’t easy. We’re gonna face these bricks that try and hit us in the face and make us give up. Don’t let them.  If you do, you’ll also find the bricks of regret. 
Keep pressing forward. 
You got this. You can do this. It may take longer, but it’ll be worth it.
Fight for what your heart is telling you.
It’s worth it.
It turns out, I didn’t rip my pointe shoes off and throw them out the window. Sure, I fought tears the entire class and slipped a few not-so-good words, but I didn’t walk out. I didn’t give up. I may have been weak this class–for whatever reason–but I didn’t give up.
I can identify this weakness, address it, and work harder next class.
I’m too determined to quit. 
In fact, I would think quitting would be more painful than enduring.
Keep Fighting.
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