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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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Still learning. 

I haven’t been to a class in a while. I honestly don’t remember when, but I’m sure I could look back on blogs and find out. 😂 

In my online silence, I feel I have learned much:

I’ve learned that even when I’m unable to get to class, ballet is still very much a part of my life. I may be in bed most moments I’m not at work, but what ballet has taught me finds it’s ways of helping me in most areas of my life. Most recently, it’s been in the area of communication. I remembered something a teacher had told me with a correction, “reach your arm out longer. Longer than you think it needs to go. If it’s too much, I’ll tell you.” But she never had to tell me, because what I thought was too much ended up being the perfect amount. I applied this concept to communication, and found that what I thought was a dramatic overkill was actually what was needed and helped immensely. 

I’ve learned the importance of learning my limits, and that also pushing them is equally important at times. While talking with a dear friend of mine, she mentioned making sure that I didn’t use my diagnosis as an excuse to give up. That it’s important to listen to my body and what it needs, but whenever able to make sure I push those limits. Without that, I’ll lose the very thing that makes me who I am. She’s right. So while I have to throw in the towel way more than I ever wanted or thought I would have to, I will not be defeated. There’s much that is unknown, but all hope is not lost. 

I’ve learned that even when I’m feeling my worst, even when I’m unable to to do what’s required of me, let alone anything extra, even when I feel like my life has lost its luster and everything I worked for is slipping from my fingers, like I’ve lost every bit of influence I had or any point that made me enjoy living and helped me get through the hard days, even when trying to explain the depths of what it is im trying to relay to you ends in the most run-on of run-on sentences, still people find this blog, people read my stories, people connect and find something in it that speaks to them. It shows me that even when I’m feeling my worst, I am not pointless. I am not too far gone. I am not lost for all hope. 

I’ve learned that I have some of the greatest friends one could ever hope for. Ones that help me, ones that keep up with and check in on me. Ones that still follow my Instagram account, even when I’m silent for weeks with no explanation. I’ve found friends in similar predicaments, lending their own silent waves of understanding, showing me that I’m not alone. 

I haven’t written as much because I don’t want to just be all about the illness, but I have also come to realize that the illness is part of it. Classes start again next month, where I will be teaching and at least in the studio weekly if for nothing more than that. I hope to get into some interim classes, but so far haven’t been able to yet, sadly. But still, ballet has not left me. Everything it is and brings to the dancer still lives inside of me, still encourages me to keep believing, to keep dreaming, to keep pushing myself. 

It’s funny to think of how different life is now from last year, or even six months ago. The things I could do with minimal effort that now I can’t even consider because it’s too much. But even in thinking back on what I used to be able to do, I smile. Because I did it. I didn’t wait and wish and hope that one day I might dance, I got out there and fumbled around like a baby giraffe until it started to make sense. I chased my crazy dream until it came true. And it did. Just in time, it did. And no matter what happens, no matter if I ever get well or stay sick the rest of my life, no matter if sickness comes in and takes more from me, I will always have that. I will always know I dared to dream and my dreams came true. 

And that, my friends, is more than I could ever ask for. 

What makes me any different from you? Nothing. You just have to decide in yourself that you want whatever it is more than you’re afraid of it, and remind yourself of that feeling of euphoria whenever things get difficult. Because they will. Show up anyway. Try anyway. Push your limits anyway. 

Your future self will thank you. 

This entry was posted in dance.
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