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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 had a blog written last week, but it didn’t save before I got a chance to post it. Bleh. 

There were classes this week, but I wasn’t able to go to them. There are classes this week, and then summer begins the next week. I’ll be teaching two classes on Saturdays, and hopefully getting to attend the adult classes twice a week. 

My body seems to be adjusting to the medicine I’m on, which is just for the repercussions from not having a gallbladder. It doesn’t fix everything, as I still get really tired, but it does help, as I’m not near as weak since I can actually eat food now. 

I’m hopeful that things will be okay. 

My future is uncertain. I hope to find out more st my follow up in August on whether this seems to be something that will last long term or if it’s something that could improve with time. Until then, I’m doing my best to take it easy when I can, yet still doing enough to make me feel like I’m more than just dead weight. 

I’ll try to get to classes in the fall, but can’t really gauge whether that will happen until I’m there. I will for sure be teaching. 

It’s funny; being an adult ballet dancer I often get asked, “how long are you going to keep up this whole ballet thing?” With a tone as though it is nothing more than a childhood dream. And I used to say “as long as I have feet, I’m going to dance.” I didn’t think that the thing threatening to take me out isn’t the fact that I have feet, but rather if I have the energy to make it. I never thought it would be a question because my body barely lets me get out of bed. In my head, my drive and passion was enough to make that certain. But now it’s not. Now the thing trying to snuff my dreams is completely out of my control, and the one thing that could actually do it. Without the energy to do it, you just can’t. There isn’t a way to work around it. I never saw this coming. 

Thankfully, all my big dreams have been accomplished. Thankfully, my doctor encourages me to go to class any chance I get. Thankfully I’m still able to go some times, even if it isn’t near as much as I’d like and even if I essentially have to hang up my pointe shoes. 

That’s okay. 

It’s hard to be on this side dreams, sometimes. But also invigorating. Knowing that I did it. 

Now, I’m sitting on my couch watching Harry Potter instead of in my house cleaning to try and get back into it after a terrible flea infestation. (Pier and beam in the country… the struggle is real.) 

Hope you all are well. Thanks for sticking with me! 

This entry was posted in dance.
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