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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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Ms. Munro spoke to me yesterday.
Asked me if I was okay. Asked how my knees were, mentioned how I never do jumps.
I explained why I didn’t do them in class, but how I still marked and learned and can do them if needed. How in such a fast paced environment I tend to forget the details I need to think about and hurt my knees. I explained how the right leg is longer, how my back is curved, and how I have the calcified whiplash. I told her in choreography, I’m fine, because I can think about it. I can work specifically on something and know how to avoid injury.

She told me I should be very proud of how far I’ve come in such a short amount of time. She asked how long I’ve been en pointe, and said that these other girls have just been on longer.
She asked me to pointe my foot, so I did, and she said I had really good arches, and I need to lift out of my shoe more. That I need to build the strength so I don’t sink.

I wish someone had told me this sooner.
I had heard whims of this, but never definite. It wasn’t anything concrete. I do stuff with the theraband, but I wish I had known to dedicate to this. That this is what they were looking for.

I can’t change the past, but I can move forward to the future.
I am still the cover, which means I still have a shot, even if it’s not the way I had hoped.
Even if it sucks.
Even if I feel like complete crap and a failure and like I must suck to get the roles I got, since I’m not even with my level.

I can’t change the past.
So I’m going to work like hell on what I now know to do. I’m going to press forward with fierce determination, and hope someone doesn’t show up enough and they actually follow through with replacing them. I’m going to show them I can do it. Because nothing would be worse than feeling all these things, getting to do the part, and finding that I can’t do it.

Tuesday’s after ballet will be dedicated to building strength.
I can’t let myself be afraid of my knee hurting, instead I must train it to go in the right direction.
I’m going to speak to teachers about how to better focus on gaining this strength, what to do with my shoes to help them last longer, and if I should start doing jumps in class or if it would do more damage than good. (I also don’t grande plie for this reason. My knees haven’t hurt since, even with choreography.) (I also don’t have to wear the brace any more.)

So if they can see the improvement in all my other efforts, I’m going to keep up with that til they see these.

Positives:

  • Ms. M complimented my musicality, asking if I played an instrument. I have not
  • She said I have come a very long way for the short amount of time I have been dancing
  • She said that I did really well in the Winkie Guard role last year and carried the other dancers, specifically with my ability to count and acting skills
  • She said I have really arched feet (I’m taking it as a compliment)
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