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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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Fives. 

I almost didn’t get to make today’s ballet class. Honestly, I’m surprised I’ve made as many as I have. I work at a tax office, and we’re in the thick of it right now, yet still I’ve managed to have all the things I need to get done for the day done and have been able to make class and not hit traffic. 

This will probably be the last week of it–heck, maybe even the last day. We’ll see. But im doing what I can to make it. 

Before class even started, I questioned if I should have come. I’m pretty exhausted as I seem to be fighting off some kind of infection or allergies or who knows what, so I’m already run down. Then everyone seemed to be so incredibly loud today. Before we even got into the studio. I found myself actually having to stand to the side and plug my ears. It was crazy. 

In class it was hardly better. Our teacher was even getting frustrated with it. It was so nice having so few people in the class last week that having so many this week was rough. And then add on the talking and distraction and it was rough. 

I was proud that I didn’t get panicky or frustrated though. I’m wondering if that gets worse when I’m being particularly hard on myself; when I feel I have something to prove. At this point I know I’ve done all I can do to “prove” anything and I can’t change any outcome–it’s out of my hands–so why lose sleep over it? (Sometimes easier said than done, like when I was in tears and eating my feelings all weekend. Hah.) 

There was a moment at barre when I had immense Deja vu. Like, I not just that it seemed familiar, but I could tell you what was gonna happen next. I knew where I was gonna look, what I would see, and what I would think, followed by the other persons reaction, before it happened. I think I dreamt it, because there seemed to be a negative connotation to it, but the only thing negative about today was the talking and lack of focus.

Still, our teacher didn’t hammer us too much, so that was nice. She gave us “simple” things to perfect rather than complicated things to attempt. It was really nice. 

I was particularly excited when we did a beginning center combo that involved releve passé and various other rolling up movements I’m usually terrible at. It can sap my drive so quickly when I find myself faultering at something that should be so simple. I could have shut down at the rolling up part I’m not too confident in, but I didn’t. And I was actually able to do better than I expected, and the releve passé’s were actually held and stable and not just a little pop up and back down and pretend it was correct. 

I’m getting stronger, these shoes are better, and approaching it with a view of confidence is working wonders. And it feels so good.

I even attempted jumps, which I’m not supposed to do because of my stupid knee, but whatever. I intended to sit it out, but it’s been so long since I’ve been able to jump and I wanted to know if I could do it. So I did. And I was able to do things I wasn’t able to when I had to stop jumping like that. And I felt myself lifted and actually off the ground enough to pointe my toes. And it just felt great. My knee hurt afterwards, but it was just before being too much. I’m pretty sure I’ll be okay since it’s not an every class thing. But gosh, it felt so good to be able to just do it. 

We had Jazz/Lyrical after which we worked on recital. Which I’m really liking right now. (Is it bad I’m hoping it doesn’t change?) I feel like I can play around and experiment with shapes and movement and I’m pushed to try new things and leave my comfort zone. And I really appreciate that. 

Plus, it’s the one class I have with my girls.

Last year we were all fours. I also took the fives class, but felt pretty out of my depth in it and really uncomfortable. But my fours class made me feel like maybe I wasn’t crazy to think I could do all the things I was trying. And that was due larglely to the fact that our teacher was incredible, but also to the fact of my fellow fours. I was new, i was substantially older than them, I was inexperienced, and they took me in as one of their own and became my friends. 

These girls have drive. They have passion. Not only that, but they care about each other. They don’t feel like they have to cut each other down all the time to be better. They recognize injustices and encourage all the time. They work together. 

And in class tonight they were a large part of the class that was actually paying attention and trying. Sure they may not have been able to do everything, but they did what they could and tried their best. I’ve gotten to watch them improve and grow so much this past year, and it just makes my heart a puddle. I don’t know that I could ever express what they mean to me. I truly cherish each of them. They’re my babies. And they’ve made this ballet experience of mine something I cherish more than I ever thought possible. They get me through the dark days, even when they may not realize it. 

I’m glad I went to class. I’ll be sad when I have to miss. I don’t want summer because I don’t want to not be dancing. But for now, I’ll just cherish the moments I have while I have them. 

(I love you, girls!)

This entry was posted in dance.
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