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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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New studio. First attempt.

Yesterday was my first ballet class since the last summer class at Instep.
Let me be honest with you in tell you I was freaking out.
I don’t really know how to explain everything that was going on inside me, but there was a lot of it, and it was unavoidable.
Thankfully, I didn’t have to go alone. My friends Sarah, Liz, and Karin were all there as well. That helped tremendously, but also made me feel a little awkward at first. Here we were, 4 new people, infiltrating the last summer class of this studio that had some really good dancers. It was intimidating, but Sarah pointed out that some of these girls were at Bailando–the dance festival we have every year here locally–and that they tried playing the intimidation card there, too, but were just as good or lost as we were. (mostly)
We were able to keep up with the class, which made me feel good. I was extremely grateful to Jilissa for making sure we knew terminology, differing styles, and making sure we had the full understanding of things. There were only two things we had never seen before: one was fairly simple to catch on to, the other was a step usually performed by guys. Our only guy moved to California, so we hadn’t seen any of those steps in a while. We were able to execute the moves with just being told the combination, and our main struggle was in execution and technique, rather than understanding and comprehension, (redundant? oh well.) which is how it should be.

Needless to say, I woke up sore today. It is a welcomed feeling and has re-ignited my love for this art form.

My emotions are still everywhere. This is a very difficult thing to explain. It is as though we are orphans, trying to fit into a new family. The parents are kind, but the kids are apprehensive to let so many new people in to their world. It’s all understandable, but it’s definitely unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced in my life.
Every thing else I’ve had end, I knew it had an end. It was clear, expected. This was only prefaced by dreams and intuition. A few rumors here and there, but they weren’t studio-wide. I only knew because, for some reason, people trust me. (It’s a blessing and a curse.)
I’m grateful that I was at least somewhat prepared. But it has been a difficult transition. Not everyone is as open minded towards adult dancers, especially ones that started as adults and “can’t do anything with it.” It’s either not enough of a challenge to advance in, or completely misunderstood. Instep had that balance that’s rare.

So, here it is. The first of many first steps toward dealing.

(in the lobby, waiting for class to start. Nervous as heck.)

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