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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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Hold on there, little Mirliton.

During rehearsal yesterday, we got to watch the tail end of the Mirliton rehearsal before us.
One of my friends from my old studio was cast in this role, and I was absolutely beaming with pride at how she is taking on these roles and thriving. Like, seriously, I’m beyond proud.
So anyway, I was watching them rehearse, and it seemed like Ms. Munro was only getting onto Annika. Granted, most of these girls have danced this role for years and years and years, and this is Annika’s first time, so the poor girl has had her work cut out for her. But she takes the correction, and runs with it, and thrives, and *tears* so proud.
And the fact that she just turned 15 last week and new to this studio and already dancing soloist roles and keeping up with these girls that have done these roles for years blows my mind.
I had this thought process while watching Ms Munro correct her:
“You got this, Annika. Don’t let it bother you. She picks on the ones that show promise.”
Because, see, the other girls weren’t perfect either. But she kept correcting Annika. Whether it is because she knows the other girls temperaments, (they’re the ones late for class every week) or something else, she kept correcting Annika until she was perfect.
Because when she corrects her, she takes it, and does it.
Because she knows it’ll make her a better dancer.
Because she knows she’ll rise out of the sting of the correction and be better.

And it’s like life.
It seems that all the best people have the most junk thrown at them.
It seems like the people who just couldn’t care less are the ones doing alright.
Life picks on the ones that show promise.

Hold on, there, little Mirliton.
You’ll be better for all this.

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