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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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I ended up skipping Mondays class last week. I didn’t want to, but I get absolutely terrible. It was all I could do to get through the work day. My plan was to take it easy in the week so I could be up and running for Saturday’s rehearsal. 

I ended up in bed early every day I didn’t have to drive into town, which is pretty good considering. But it’s immensely frustrating, because I should be able to handle all of this and more. This shouldn’t be as hard as it is. I shouldn’t be this tired. 

Friday I was able to work with a teacher friend of mine to try and get me up to speed on the hoffraulein bits that Im struggling with. There is more that is still a struggle that we didn’t get to work on, but the parts we did were a huge help. The also helped with the Weiss Frauen role in the parts I struggle with there. I know I have a long way to go yet, and I’m running out of time to get there, but I’m trying to push myself where I can, and force myself to rest when I have to. It’s hard. 

I’ve also found myself to be more emotionally sensitive and vulnerable than I usually am. I suppose this is due to the fact that I feel sick all the time, and trying to keep up with being normal while feeling this sick does a number on emotions. Especially when it’s not something that has rhyme or reason to it. I’m harder on myself because I don’t have the control I wish I did. I’ve fought a greater part of my life to try and get a handle on my need to control things, since nothing really is in our control, really, but the past few weeks have proven difficult. Thankfully, I do have wonderful people in my life, and one of them happens to be a teacher friend that is good at knowing when to be patient with me and when to push me. It’s a special and rare balance to achieve, and she nails it. I couldn’t be more grateful for her patience and willingness to help me. 

Saturday’s rehearsal began at 10, so I had to have someone cover my baby classes. If I had taught them, I would have missed almost all of the first rehearsal. It was probably a good thing, too, because by noon I was getting sick. Thankfully it hit at a moment where our director was working on a section I wasn’t directly involved in, so I was able to whisper to a friend where I was going and rush out of the studio in time. I weighed my options at that point, and when we were given a few minutes break, I opted to take off my shoes and approached my director about it. Thankfully, she is understanding, and I did what I could to keep up still. It seemed any time I engaged my core, I was out for the count. 

We still had the second rehearsal for hoffraulein, which fed right into itself from the Weiss Frauen rehearsal, so I didn’t have time to eat anything. Most of the girls were smart and brought stuff to help them power through, but my options are rather limited. Judging by how I was feeling, I opted not to push it, knowing eating would make me get sick, though I knew. It eating would lead me to get sick later. But later I would be at home, not at a rehearsal. 

I felt bad enough to actually ask to sit out, which I was going to be able to, but we were missing too many people and learning a new part anyway. So I stood in my spot and marked it, while doing arms. Even that was difficult, which helped me understand in myself that this isn’t something I’m just “being dramatic” about, and also made me even more grateful that my appointment with the specialist is so soon. 

I made it through and took it easy in Sunday, since I didn’t have rehearsal. I still haven’t been doing too hot, but I’m out of options on what else to do about it. I try not to dwell on it because it is out of my control, but still try to do everything I can to keep up while not pushing too hard. 

Yesterday in class, I felt myself getting really overwhelmed. It got so bad that I found myself feeling a sense of anxiety in class I haven’t felt since I first began. I wanted to run, and I was so frustrated with myself that I couldn’t get a step that seemed relatively simple. It’s one I should be able to get, but my brain wasn’t grasping it, and my body wasn’t doing it, and the teaching was telling me not to let my face show if I messed up. But I didn’t have anything in me to fake confidence with. I was drained; of people, of pretending, of faking it til I made it. This isn’t me. This isn’t like me. But I couldn’t do it. And I hated how I felt and how I was acting. But I was out of options. I left the studio near tears, and bought an epic stuffed bear to make me feel better because I’m also a 5 year old. 

I’m still trying to work through everything. Trying to navigate life and everything required of me while also trying to not get sick every other moment. I’m sleeping as much as I can and really cutting back on commitments since I can’t keep up with what is required of me as it is. I’m hoping something will shift soon and things will be better. 
On a lighter note, I’m doing an Instagram live on Saturday, February 11, at 8pm CST 

If you don’t follow me, you can find my Instagram at anothernightatthebarreofficial I’ll try and link it later when my phone isn’t dying. 

We have pictures on Saturday, so I’ll have some good updates after that! 

This entry was posted in dance.
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