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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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Fall prep.

I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately, but this weekend lead me to getting sicker than usual, along with this past week.

I went to class yesterday, and made it all the way through, but still didn’t feel fully myself. It’s as though my brain couldn’t wrap itself around some of the concepts. Granted, it was also a teacher I haven’t had but maybe once before, so I’m not particularly used to her style. It was a really great class, style wise, though some of it a bit hard on the knees. Even so, I really enjoyed it. There were a few new things that I enjoyed attempting.

I found myself choking down some anxiety about half-way through. A mix of the events of the day, interactions, and fear–it took me some intense mental-blocking to get through without breaking down and being super hard on myself. I recognized it, and knew that the me a year or two ago would have shut down and even broken down, but I kept it together and reminded myself that no one would know unless I showed them. If I held it together, it’ll be better in the long run. I did my best, tried to stay as focused as I could, and do the best I could do that day.

We got an email with the dates for auditions and shows. Turns out this is about the worst possible year for me, schedule-wise, but I have to make it work. I have to talk with Mrs. Alex a bit about it all, since it got a little more complicated since there’s a wedding I’m obligated to during an audition. (And one I was really hoping to prove myself in.) I already can’t make the teacher orientation-type meeting because of a rehearsal for a wedding I’m in that’s on a Thursday. It’s stressing me out a little since it’s my first year teaching, I really want all the information going in that I can get. I want to know their expectations of me and just to be there. They’ll have all the info for me anyway, I talked to Mrs. Alex last night, but being there is just better. It’s like missing a rehearsal and trying to catch up on your own before the next on. Details get missed.

I’m trying not to stress out about everything, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t stressed. This week has already proven to be overwhelming, and I’m finding myself at a breaking point that I can’t afford to be at. I’m finding a way to keep going, but it’s pretty difficult.

I’ll make it through. I have to, so I know I will.

Summer classes have been great. I’m sad they’ll be over, but this next year should be great. Registration is this week. I’ve got a bit more research to do for my classes still, but I’ve found some really great resources. I’m hopeful.

I’m trying not to worry about the madness of Spring until I have to. I’ll need to speak with Mrs. Julie as soon as I can see her, though. Working at a tax office and doing ballet is a complex balance. (especially when all the dance dates throw each other straight into tax-season-madness.)

I’m readjusting plans that I can, readjusting visions and dreams. Trying to stay flexible and open minded and not get my heart set on anything.

Prayers are appreciated. ❤

This entry was posted in dance.
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