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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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My first fall.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, it happened.
I had my first fall from pointe.

It happened during floor work. I’m behind everyone else as it is, but I’m doing the best I can. Thank God my teacher is really understanding and doesn’t make me feel pressured or rushed. Better to do it right.
We were going from the left side doing a pique to front attitude. I don’t even know how it happened but I ended up on my butt.
My reaction?
I burst into laughter.
After the fact, I always laugh at myself in how I’m disappointed no one is laughing with me. But, they’re my friends. And I just fell off my pointe shoe. Why would they laugh? Duh, Emilee. I guess laughing is my automatic response.
I got right back up after laughing and tried it again. I didn’t even think about being afraid until I noticed Jilissa’s concern and direct attention to my next move. This is when I became surprised in myself.
I’m always afraid. I’m always concerned. I always feel things deeply and take them to heart and take a while to shake them. But this time, I just got right back up and kept going.
I guess I’m finally growing up, eh?
When I noticed, I was grateful for Jilissa’s careful concern. It made me feel like trying again was safe; and it was. I always thought my left was my stronger side, but I guess on pointe it’s my right. She even complimented my roll down off pointe on the right side. The car wreck affected my left leg, but in turn I had more issues on my right. I guess with putting all the pressure and over-hyper extending it while over compensating for the injury to the left, it ended up affecting the right more. The right is the one I had to go to physical therapy for.
Well. I guess it worked.

I want to work harder. I want to improve. I want to become stronger and more stable and perfect the craft. And then I want to learn more and perfect that.
I want to dance as often as I can for as long as I can.
Life is to short to sit it out.

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