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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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New class, new teacher (new insight.)

We had our regular teacher for the ballet/pointe IV class last night, Lori.
To say I love her is an understatement.
First off, she knows my old dance teacher. She started out class with roll and asked which of us came from that studio and we raised our hands. It was like she completely understood our plight and empathized. She used to be Jilissa’s neighbor and they are good friends. This made me really want to do Jilissa proud and show how well she trained us.
Lori used to dance with the San Francisco Ballet, (Insert me freaking out here.) although she grew up taking classes in the very building we are in. (I read this in her bio, but it’s definitely amazing hearing her say all of this.) She’s quirky like me, and keeps it light, but she also hones in on us and teaches us.
Not just shows us or not just tells us. She makes sure we have a clear understanding of the movement and why.
I have what I call a “why brain.”
I really like to grasp the full concept, and can sometimes get really frustrated if I don’t understand how I’m doing something, even if it’s correct. Why is it correct? It can get interesting.
But she made sure we all had clear understanding, and without difficulty. It’s like it just rolled right off of her.

I’m notorious for having incorrect arms. (Which, I now have a better understanding of, as she was able to show us efface, ecarte, and croise. Not just show us, but explain them in ways I comprehend.) There was one point where we were going across the floor and realized I had the wrong arms. I switched them and said, “ah, sorry!” kind of under my breath. (I’m also notorious for speaking without realizing it, although I’m getting better at this…)
To which she responded,
Never apologize! Every movement is important!”

This was a new concept to me.
I have been told before that if you mess up, just go with it. If you’re confident about it, most people don’t even notice. I actually won a debate round at a speech and debate tournament with this logic. I debated affirmative while I was supposed to be negative, but I was so convincing, they gave me the win anyway. Ps. I suck at debate. PPs. The topic was interracial couples.
But in dance, you’re always told to strive to be better, to work harder, to be perfect. Having the wrong arms to me was imperfect.
But she didn’t merely scold me or correct me, she noted that doing it incorrectly is an important part of learning the correct way, to not apologize.

We aren’t here to be perfect, we’re here to learn. If we were perfect, we wouldn’t need class and she wouldn’t have a job. It’s not bad to be wrong, we just have to learn how to improve, and being wrong can be just the ticket to learning correctly.

Needless to say, my mind was blown.
I wish this class was more than once a week, but I am beyond grateful to be in it now.

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