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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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Back at it again. 

It feels like I’ve been out of class for months, when really it’s barely been two weeks. If that. Nonetheless I’m blogging this while icing my ankle and listening to a sweet Romeo and Juliet vinyl my friend Annika got me 😊

My foot was still a little swollen, but not near as badly as it has been. And it was to the point where I can keep a sock on it and not feel as itchy. Downside is my stomach has been angry, and I wasn’t sure if I could get through a class without getting sick. I’m not sure what to do about it except just endure through, so that’s what I do. I want sure if I was going to be too dehydrated to really dance, but it didn’t seem to be a problem. Either that or my stomach hurt enough for me not to notice the dehydration. 

I grabbed my leotard I got in The Woodlands last week to wear for class. I was really excited about it. I didn’t factor in anything when I picked the pants and shirt to wear over it to and from class. So I ended up having my boots I wore to work, with a gap between my purple yoga pants and shoes that showed my tights. Then my Every Ella shirt that had my 3/4 leotard sleeves poking out. 

I am so fashion forward.

Just kidding. 

Class started out decent enough, though my stomach was getting angry from using our core so much. It took a bit of mental focus away from what I was doing, which Mrs Alex corrected a time or two. I was glad, too, because I had forgotten to think about it, and I need to be thinking about it. (Turn out and keeping my hyperextention in check.) 

She explained transitioning between arm positions, which I’ve always wondered about. She explained it in such a way that was so understandable. I was grateful. I tried implementing it as much as I could, but it will take some work. 

I tried my new pointe shoes and, as predicted, they were a smidge too small. But I think they’re doable. I think I can tape my toe to curb the pain and make this pair work, then just get the next size up next time. Regardless of that, the fit was so wonderful. It was so supportive and shaped so well to my foot. And not having the super hard shank made it so much easier to balance on one flat foot without the extra thickness. I wanted to cry out of happiness. I didn’t keep them on the whole time as the pain on my toe was a bit much. But I was able to attempt an arabesque and pirouette successfully, so that was exciting. 

I was able to talk to Mrs Alex about the festival email and ask her what she thought I should do while I wait for timing to ask my boss if I can go. I hadn’t seen her in what seemed like months but really had only been a few weeks. It was so great to get to talk to her a little bit. I got so excited I’m pretty sure I rambled a lot and was talking really fast, but she is gracious 😂

It was great to be back in class, even with the pain and discomfort my body puts me through. I love ballet. I love dance. I love being around such wonderful people as the ones in today’s class. New and old. Summer classes are some of my favorites. 

I forgot to get a picture of my leotard in class (again) but I did get one in the mirror 

And I finally got a picture with Matthew! But I’ll save it for my blog post after his class next Wednesday. (Because I don’t hate him. So I’ll be there. 😉) 

All in all, this class did me good. My body, my heart, my spirit, my mind. A much-anticipated reset. 

I hope you all are doing well in your classes or recoveries. Much love to you all! 

This entry was posted in dance.
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