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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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Kids these days. 

I had my appointment with the surgeon for my back on Friday. It was a 2 1/2 hour drive up there and equally as long back. The surgeon spoke to me for ten minutes, where he told me how I was too young and my body could fix itself still and how if I were his sister i wouldn’t suggest having surgery. 

I was prepared for him to say no, to say I was too young, but it was the way he spoke to me that made me choke up and lose my words out of panic and frustration. It’s as though someone took an eraser and wiped out my brain and all the words I had prepared. Fear came in and reminded me how I pressed for a surgery before and where that got me—permanently on medication just to be able to eat and function like a normal person. He told me that he was on opinion and if I wanted to push for the surgery he’d do it, but he did not recommend it. 

I did ask him if I spoke to my referring doctor and he wanted me to pursue surgery, would I be able to come back. He said no bridges were burned and he’d definitely operate on me. That we would have another meeting like this, regroup, and then schedule the surgery. 

I had my chiropractor appointment where I upstated my doctor on everything that went down. I told him what was said. I told him how I was frustrated. I told him how I got in my car, called my general practitioner, and made an appointment to try and get a referral to a cardiologist and see what I need to do about a rheumatologist. I told him how symptoms that seem to point towards POTS have been getting more defined, and how the more I look into it, the more I wonder if that’s where this chronic fatigue is stemming from. I told him how I’m not convinced i don’t have hEDS, even if it’s not as extreme as some others. I told him how my cousin has POTS, and I’ve confirmed two more relatives to have symptoms like we have. I told him how I wondered if it’s all related and if so would surgery actually make it worse if it’s caused by something like one of these things or something similar. 

He got silent, face lined as one is when deep in thought. Said a few “hmm’s” as he mulled over everything in his knowledge base. Then he replied with, “I’m going to have to ponder on this one.” 

I appreciate this. I appreciate that he didn’t just shoot out an answer to pacify me. That he’s going to dig more into it before replying. That how these things could possibly all be connected is something to consider. How he believes me. He hears me out, weighs it against the science, and then responds. 

Brain fog has been the realest it’s ever been the last few days, and heading into the baby class today had me a little nervous. I love them so much and I was hopeful they would behave. 

Most did, but enough of them were distracted and talking that it made the class more difficult than it needed to be. A few even got on to the “sad face list” where if you get your name on this list and gets two marks beside it, you don’t get a sticker. It makes it difficult to have to repeat myself, to not have the whole class keeping up with what’s going on, to lose their focus and end up having to show the same thing numerous times. The class is big and we’re still trying to find what fully works for us. 

At the end of class, I had them sit down in their lines and I got real. 

I asked them if they wanted to know why it’s so important that they follow the rules. Besides what it does for them, if they wanted to know why it’s important to me. I told them, “I’m really sick. I have a thing called chronic fatigue syndrome, and it makes me really tired all the time. That feeling you get when you’re really tired at night and just want to go to bed is how I feel when I wake up in the morning and have to get through the day. I explained how teaching is hard but I love them and I love to teach them. I told them that when they follow the rules it doesn’t make me feel as tired, but when I have to get onto them over and over it makes me more tired and makes me feel worse. 

By this point, they were all silent. They were actually listening. Every one of them. And before I could even finish one of them, the sweet one I made cry a few weeks ago when her name got put on the sad face list for talking (and who wasn’t talking this time) ran up to me and just hugged me. Her precious little heart couldn’t take hearing about me being sick without doing what she could to make me feel better. One by one, other girls stood up and did the same, their hearts overflowing. By the end of it, we were in a giant, 20 person group hug, one of them commenting at the end, “Ms. Emilee! We broke rule number three we were all touching each other! That’s not keeping our hands to ourselves!” High five, little one. I explained that at that moment it was okay and allowed. 

I love these kids. These 5-6 year olds are full of life. They’re funny and charming. A good deal of them are really focused and work hard, many of them are naturals. It fills my heart to overflowing to see them remember things I’ve told them in weeks past, in their “ready position” at the beginning, smiles on their faces. It makes me melt when they come up and I think they have a question but they just want to give me a hug. These kids keep me as well as I am. They give me a reason to get out of bed and keep trying. They keep me in the studio even if I can’t really dance. 

I hope they know how important they are, how loved they are. I hope they know the world is theirs, that they can dream big and achieve those dreams. That sometimes life is hard, but if you look around there’s reminders of how it’s still beautiful. I hope coming to class is something they look forward to, something they enjoy. 

I love these kids and how they’re so full of life. They’re fresh, they see the world in the best way. Even if some of them have had the world hand them a hard deal, they don’t hate it. They find the beauty through the pain. They feel the pain. They process it. It’s admireable. And I hope as they grow they remember how wanted and loved they are, how important they are. How they have something to offer the world. How their story matters. 

They remind me of why I’m still here. Of what part of my purpose, my story, is. 

I could never thank them enough for that. 

This entry was posted in dance.

7 comments on “Kids these days. 

  1. The Accidental Artist says:

    Love your story, I can tell your students love you and I sincerely hope the doctors find some answers soon! It is good to have peace of mind but don’t the little ones confirm what is truly important in our lives? XOXO Sarah

    Liked by 1 person

    1. They truly do. I believe they’re the reason I don’t lose my mind over all of this. They keep me grounded.


  2. Shout out to your awesome chauffeur to SanAnt!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. ballet.tos says:

    Such a heartfelt snapshot of your life. ❤️ Since reading your post about you r father it was such an amazing piece. I love hearing from you. I hope you get well soon! All the love,

    Ps your students are incredible. 😉

    Liked by 1 person

    1. You are so incredibly kind. ❤ I love having you as a follower, I truly feel as if you are a friend. Thank you for that! I appreciate you so much!

      Liked by 1 person

      1. ballet.tos says:

        You are so welcome! I feel like you are a friend to me too!☺️ Have a good day. 🤗 Xx

        Liked by 1 person

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