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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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End of summer. 

Recently a friend asked if posting on his Facebook wall about his cancer diagnosis was selfish. 

To which I replied that it’s his wall and something he is going through. How in the world was that selfish? 

Yet, I find myself doing it with my blog. I tell myself not to write about being sick so much because people don’t want to read about that. They want to read about ballet, about my journey with it, about all the cool things I get to do and the things I learn through this medium of expression. 

And then I realized that they are one in the same. 

I see my chiropractor every to every other week. I’ve been seeing him about two years now, and he is also an RN and rather invested in my whole health story. On Tuesday he asked me about some updates, then looked me in the eye and asked, “are you depressed?” 

It was a rather direct question, which would have really thrown me coming from my father. My dad and my chiropractor are friends, and I sort of view him as a father figure, but it wasn’t something I found invasive, just not what I expected. I responded, “definitely.” Then he asked, “are you beginning the grieving process? For your diagnosis? You were so active in dance and always doing something. This has put the brakes on.” 

It’s summer. Official summer classes end tomorrow, the last adult class was Wednesday. Out of the 8 potential classes, I made it to two. I was hoping to make it this past week, but I ended up too sick. 

From what? What could have possibly made me too sick to power through? I don’t get “normal people” sick very often at all. But apparently, I pushed myself too hard in cleaning my house on Friday, and that mixed with life stress kicked my butt even through the next week. A week later, I’m still struggling. 

I miss it. I miss class. I miss dance. 

I miss having time to get everything done that life requires. I miss being able to be busy, which makes me forget about all the hard things in life I can’t change. 

I miss seeing my friends and challenging myself. I miss learning new things and striving to perfect things I know. 

I wish I was able to tell you about all the cool stuff I’m learning and working on. That I could fill my blog with all the ballet things all the time. I wish I had weekly updates like I used to, trying to hold myself back on all the things I wanted to say to not make too many posts at once. 

But reality is, life is a thief that’s stealing the things I love. And I have to find ways to handle that. Thankfully, ballet isn’t out of the question entirely, and I am at a wonderful studio that will let me make a class schedule to whatever I can manage. If it’s making it to adult class, wonderful. But if it’s making it to a leveled class barre here and there, that’s okay too. 

I’m grateful to know that all hope isn’t lost. That I can still dance when I’m able, and there’s no pressure to do more than that. I’m extremely grateful that I can still teach, which helps me stay motivated to make the drive to the studio and fight for the thing I love. Not to mention the kids jump start my heart to remember why life is still beautiful, even when things are so very ugly. 

Dance has given me so many things I have in life that I treasure. Most of them are people, and I wouldn’t trade them for anything in the world. Even if it has slowed down, I’m so very glad that I get to be a part of this ballet world. Even more so that I decided to take those first terrifying steps to pursuing this crazy dream. 

Keep dreaming. Keep fighting. Do the things that scare you. Find the thing that makes you feel alive and chase it with everything you have. 

Thank you so much for being patient with me. For sticking around, even when my life isn’t as “glamorous” as it used to be. Y’all are part of my heart. 

This entry was posted in dance.
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