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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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Act II rehearsals.

We had rehearsals with all of Act II on Sunday.
These make me nervous, because all of the “older” kids are watching. And honestly, with everyone that’s been hurting themselves this season, I’m afraid of risk.
(I mean, I always seem to be afraid, but this is like, more. Whatever, judge me.)

Sunday’s rehearsal was very tense. Overall it seemed like there was a strained air about the studio. Ms. Munro was sharper and no-nonsense, injured dancers nervous of their injuries, but doing their best, dancers goofing off panicking when they don’t know what’s going on, frustration all around at these people. At this point in the game,we should have our stuff together. I can understand the bigger numbers needing loads more work and direction, being that it’s longer, more complicated, and contains many more people. But our little pieces should be together by now. Especially when it’s not all too difficult.
(Stupid pirouette is still scaring me. And my toes are dying. And I’m not sure what else to do for them or if you just kind of get used to it.)

We went through it twice and we were supposed to do it in costumes the second round, but we ran out of time and ended up just running through it.

After the first time, they huddled us together really quickly for corrections. The first thing Ms. Munro said was,
“Emilee is the only one smiling the entire time! You all look like you’re miserable.” Then she did these little sound effects to indicate misery. “You all need to be more,” *insert happy sound effects*

First Ms. Alex, and now Ms. Munro.
Not one mention of not having the pirouette down on pointe, although I really want to do it, for myself ya know? I don’t want to cheat. I want to improve and I want to take risks. I also want to build up my strength in my feet and ankles.

I guess overall in life I feel rather defeated currently. I’ve noticed my tolerance is lacking, and I’ve found it difficult to deal with all the things that I can’t control; especially when people are calling me lazy with it and saying I’m just making excuses.

People suck sometimes, and they are rude and careless. And these are days I want to become a recluse. Because trying to explain won’t do anything for them, because they actually don’t care, but they also won’t keep their noses out of things.

I’m hopeful for this season.

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