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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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Gotta get back to Hogwarts Gotta get back to school Gotta get myself to Hogwarts Where everything is magicooooool
Mischief Managed.

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Yesterday I figured out the source of what caused the weirdness this week, causing me to go into class in a sort of state of determination.
I have this one life, I have this day, and I could be dead in the ground but I’m not. I’m here, at this studio, with these people I love doing what I love. This could all change in a heartbeat. But it’s here. It’s mine. I have today.

We ran our recital piece and I really tried to focus on giving it my all and implementing the corrections I had been given before. I straightened that leg, I let my head follow my arms, I took deeper plies, I made sure I was croise and not flat, etc etc. And I felt this difference, this shift almost. I felt like the dancers I look up to look to me. It felt light and magical. I don’t know how to explain it.
I felt more alive than I have in a long time.

Our piece consists of four groups that are four different colors. We decided to run it group by group and watch each other. I loved this idea and it was a great way to make sure everyone knows their cues without watching everyone else. (One in my group was one of the worst culprits of this…)
My group went first since we’re the tallest, and we went down the line from there.
It was really neat to see it all separate. I’m in the dance, and I see it from my perspective, but you don’t really realize how different the dance is for each person. Their cues and timing are completely different from mine. Their combinations are different. It’s four different dances coming together and complimenting each other. It’s beautiful.

As the group after us went, I found myself unable to take my eyes off of one of the dancers. I tried looking at all of them since they are all my friends, but the front girl captivated my attention.
The most advanced dancer in our class is in our group, and next to this other girl, and when I took a step back to compare the two next to each other, she was giving her a run for her money.
But looking at her, you may not think it. She has this gentle temperament and is so kind that you may not expect this out of her. But once you watch her, there is no mistaking.
Every ounce of her being was invested into this dance. She danced with such passion and conviction that I was brought to tears within the first 10 seconds. (And literally all they do is run in and pose in an arabesque)
She has that quality that sets dancers apart. That little bit that takes it from a pretty dance to a beautiful masterpiece. And to watch these girls as they did their part that was opposite of ours, I could see how they danced for the betterment of the entire group rather than just theirs. They danced for the beauty of the piece as a whole, not to stand out and be impressive. Their quiet, gentle beauty spoke volumes and their dancing left me feeling something.

I was at a loss for words.

When it was all said and done, we went into the bigger studio to run the piece a few times. Since this girl leads her line, and I’m the last in ours, we were next to each other. I whispered to her how she brought me to tears and is such a beautiful dancer. She was shocked, like she never expected to evoke such emotions in a person. She’s just going about her day doing what’s normal for her in the dance class and it’s enough to make me have to choke back tears.
You can see that she will go far.
She holds so much potential.
Matched with her beautiful soul, I personally can’t wait to see where all she goes from here.

It’s an honor to get to dance alongside her and watch her grow into the dancer she will become.

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