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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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Mischief Managed.

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I was able to make class again yesterday, which was the one I really wanted to make considering I missed it last week, will probably miss next week, and then the week after is the first day of “Selena week” (The Selena Auditorium is the theatre we perform in.) 

There were a few sections I was able to catch up on, and she was able to give us a new part for those of us that were still waiting to be given a part of this section. I’m not sure if it’s simple because I’m in the section or what. I appreciate it though. Id rather have something simple and clean than something complex and messy. I wrote it all down after class so I can have something to jog my memory after I’m finally back in class again. 

Most of the dancers will be gone for Festival starting on Thursday. This means we don’t have rehearsals this weekend, which is a blessing and a curse. It’s nice to have some (quickly filled) time, but sucks to be missing those precious days we could be rehearsing. 

The girls helped me with bits of swan I’ve been struggling with while we waiting for our section of recital to be worked on. I appreciated it. Even if I don’t get to perform it, I don’t want to look a hot mess if I have to jump into another rehearsal. We have one more weekend before theatre week and it’s long past time of looking a fool and time got serious and make sure I for sure know it. 

After class I went into the smaller studio to work on the pirouette prep Ms Munro had helped me with in Monday’s class. Going into it, I wondered why i wasn’t doing this more. When I got into the studio, I realized why. 

I don’t look in the mirror. Rarely, at least. Sometimes it’s simply because there are people in the way of my line of sight, and sometimes I’ll catch glances when I can to see where my turn out is or how my line looks. But typically, I avoid it. When I’m working on something like this where I need to make sure I’m not leaning one way or the other, and that I don’t lose my turn out as I releve and every other thing I need to be thinking of as I execute this, I have to look at myself to make sure I’m doing it right–there’s no one else around to see it for me. 

And it was hard. Because when I saw my reflection, I struggled to get past the fact that I’m double the size of the other girls in class. My eyes went to the bits of me that jiggled as I sprung from the floor rather than how I got there. Regardless of how good I may or may not be, it draws away from the art of the movement. 

And I know I largely can’t help it. I know my health is still just an issue that I’m trying to avoid and pacify until I have the time and money to look into it more, after the last time lead to another dead end; albeit a closer end than before. I know that my build is just one that’s stockier rather than my lean classmates. I know that walking every day could help some with this, but I also know that I don’t have the time to spare to do more than I’m doing right now and even that is a stretch. 

I know all these things, but I still couldn’t fight off that feeling that I’m seen as nothing more than just a cute little thing with a dream that we humor because we’d be terrible to shoot her down when she wants this so badly. 

Or whatever. 

I know I’m working against some difficult obsticals. That there are people out there who would have given up long ago. I know that there are certain things that are impossible. I know that my passion will make up for most of what I lack. But, I know too that I just have to play the cards in dealt. 

But if I don’t face this reality, if I just ignore this, then I for sure won’t go anywhere. I’ll be nothing more than the image I avoid. If I face the music and look at my reflection, I can see where I lack and try to work hard to improve to be what I want to be. I have to work harder to make them see past the things I can’t change. 

And I will. 

It’ll take work. It’ll take vulnerability. But it will happen. 

This entry was posted in dance.

2 comments on “Mirror. 

  1. Alicia Heaney says:

    I’m the biggest in my class too, by far. I’m probably 4 times the size of every one else. I try to just focus on keeping my best posture, shoulders down and really elongate everything to counteract it. You’re beautiful! Keep up the great work!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thankfully most days I don’t think about it, and the teachers and fellow dancers don’t make me feel like it’s anything. I’m really fortunate to be in such an encouraging place. But some days the reality just hits ya.
      Thank you my friend! I appreciate you!!


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