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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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Missed class. 

I was supposed to be back in class yesterday, havin already missed last weeks class being out of town. But on Thursday, something bit the bottom and side of my foot, causing it to swell and itch terribly. 

This happened before. Last year, once on one foot and again on both. It last about three days before calming down. Last time it but the tip of my toe as well, and I didn’t notice until ballet class. Talk about miserable. 

This time it got the side of my left foot, as well as the heel and on my leg as well. Thankfully I’ve been able to walk around on Demi pointe sort of successfully. (At least, after the second day.)

I was able to sew my shoes on Sunday, just in case it was calmed down enough to dance yesterday. I brought my stuff to work, as well, in hopes id be able to go, but knowing I more than likely wouldn’t be able to. 

Turns out I had to put in some over time anyway, so I didn’t go to class in hopes it’ll be better by Wednesday. (It’s still itching and a little painful today.)

Whatever bit me, I’m definitely allergic. Not enough to close off airways or anything scary, but enough to hold my life up a bit. 

I got an email inviting me to take part in our annual festival. It’s the national festival, so they want an answer earlier to try and get everything into place. I want to go so badly, but it’s at the tail end of tax season. Technically after April 15th, but when we still have lots going on. And I’d be gone for a week. I have to ask my boss, but we have a deadline Friday so I don’t want to make her mad asking about this now. But, of course, ballet wants to know by Friday if we can go… Sigh. I’m gonna try to talk to someone Wednesday to see if I can get an extension to see if I can go. I’ve been waiting for the national one to go and I only want to go once. I mean, I’d like to go more but it’s just not feasible to do every year. But I would like to have the experience. We’ll see what comes of it. I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but I’m at least asking. 

As for today, I’m icing my foot every chance I get so I don’t think about how badly it itches, to avoid making it worse. It seems to be lasting longer this time than last, and I’m over it. I’m really hoping it doesn’t happen again. It’s been in my sleep each time, so we aren’t entirely sure what it is biting me, though we think it’s maybe an ant or a spider. 

Hope yalls week is off to wonderful starts! 

This entry was posted in dance.
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