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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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If you have something nice to say…

Wow! Yes, it’s definitely a different process, in terms of things not always being explained. I would have never known based on your dancing, though, if I hadn’t friended you on Facebook and found out that way.”

Say it.

This was from one of the principal dancers at my studio.
She told me about a YouTube channel for adult dancers that she and a friend have (which is amazing by the way) and asked if I started dancing as an adult.
When I told her I started at 23, 3 1/2 years ago, she said the above quote.

Now you must understand, she is one of the greatest dancers I’ve seen. Insanely talented and obviously dedicated, she has muscles on her muscles. She’s one of those that may be shorter, but you wouldn’t be able to tell by her dancing.
She also teaches the class before mine on Thursdays, and I come early to watch her with the younger girls. I feel like I can learn so much even on the other side of the one-way mirror.
And no one at this studio really knows me. They’re starting to know my name now that I did The Nutcracker, but they hardly even know that I’m not a teenager, let alone twenty-six. How would any of them know my story if they’ve never asked? They wouldn’t.

But she asked a simple question.
And her reaction has done more for my little heart than I could ever thank her for.
Because she’s right.
Starting as an adult is so very different, and you’re not always given the explanation or room to make mistakes as you are when you’re younger. Even though you haven’t been in it as long, you’re expected to know more, even if no one says anything. People my age are professionals by now, and here I am barely in it.
Meanwhile, I have this insanely good dancer taking the time out to care about the adults who start out and the struggles it brings.

Poor thing got a synopsis of my sob-story, and I’m trying not to feel stupid about saying it. It is what it is, and you either have to decide you’ve had enough and give in, or refuse to give up and take the hits as they come. I guess no one at this studio really knows so it’s weird that someone does. Oh well.
Life is life. It’s not going to be perfect.

Today is a funny day anyway. And it’s February, which always is a little more difficult for me. (And no, not because of the 14th.)

But this was really nice of her to say, and I wanted to post it on here so I don’t forget it.

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