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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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That time I left class early.

I was really excited to get into the studio yesterday. I know I had only missed one class, but it felt like much more. This week has been a doozy, and the thought of having a good and sweaty ballet class lifted my hopes.

And then about 30 minutes before I left for class, my stomach decided it would have none of it.

I still went to class, mainly because I’m stubborn as heck. It was a full class, Mrs. Alex taught. It was thoroughly enjoyable. But I found myself spacing out and lethargic, my stomach hurting and my back joining in as well, resonating up into my neck, jaw, and head on the right side. It left me feeling pretty helpless, as well. My chiropractor doesn’t have any answers for me other than “stop dancing” but then not dancing affects my stomach negatively, making that not really an option.

I got through class the best I could, slowly noticing the different things that were off about me–inability to focus, forgetting, eyes feeling really heavy (specifically the left), balance being off, etc–and factoring if I thought I could get through center successfully, or if it would end up being a huge mess. I decided to bow out gracefully and quit while I was ahead.

I waited until we finished barre, then went up to Mrs. Alex and explained, asking if it were okay if I left early. She completely understood and said it was fine. I grabbed my bags and headed out.
For my own knowledge, I poked into the second studio, which was empty, and put on my pointe shoes to see if it helped using the gel tips for my big toes. My feet felt crammed in the shoes, but other then that it was definitely doable. I did a few pirouettes and arabesques and bourrees to feel it out and decided it was okay, then took my shoes off, put on my cover ups and headed out.

I got to my car and saw Ms. Munro walking towards me. I rolled my window down and, bless her heart, she asked if I was okay. I explained how I wasn’t feeling well and how I’ve been sick for years and doctors don’t know why and sometimes it just flairs up and this week had been rough. She said she was hoping I wasn’t hurt and hopes I get to feeling better. I thanked her. (How sweet is that?)

I really hope I can get all of this in check. I seem to remember it getting particularly bad this time last year as well. Not sure what that correlation could be? I don’t really have much room for these kind of things starting in two weeks. Hopefully it starts to settle down.

I fell asleep before 10pm again last night, which half the week I won’t even be home by that time once fall schedule starts up. I guess I’ll just relish in it as long as I can.

This entry was posted in dance.
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