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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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The importance of beginnings.

In an effort to try and keep myself centered with all my usual methods having to be halted, I have begun meditating. Not extensively, just 3 minutes a day to sort of refocus my mind and keep myself out of the “dark place” as much as I can.

I’ve found it beneficial to the anxiety I’ve been feeling in increasing measure since being diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, and also while trying to find a doctor that can tell me what else is wrong with me. It helps me to remind myself of the good things in life. That I may not have control of anything whatsoever, but that I’m alive and that is something. It helps remind me that I’m not alone in this fight, but that other wonderful people fight similar battles as me, and if they can fight so can I.

The other day, the person who leads the little sessions made a comment about the importance of beginnings. The irony of the timing was not lost on me, and I loved what he had to say. He mentioned that in meditation, the further people get along in it, the more difficulties they can find in focusing their minds. The way they remedy that is by remembering what it was like to be a beginner. To go back to when they didn’t know what to expect, when everything was new.

It’s like that in ballet. Sometimes you get past the “beginner’s rut” and start to get the hang of it all and you find yourself getting discouraged. You feel like you hit these plateaus and can’t get any farther. You start to doubt and struggle in a new way, thinking you’re not advancing fast enough or that the others around you are so much better than you. That you’ll never be that.

But you have to remind yourself of what it was to be a beginner. Of course when everything is new you’ll see improvement more often. It’s logical. Similar to babies seeming to grow so fast since there are so many milestones to be reached in the first few years. It can give the appearance that they don’t grow as much as they get older, but really it just isn’t as visible. Part of the growth comes in the enduring, sticking it out and not giving in or making rash decisions just to feel like something is happening.

Take a second. Remind yourself of what it was like to begin. When everything was new and exciting and also terrifying. Don’t forget how far you’ve come, and set goals for things still ahead, even if it’s something as seemingly simple as committing to a certain amount of classes a week or holding a releve passe for x amount of seconds.

This is what you dreamed of. You’re living it. It’s reality. Don’t let yourself forget how magical it al really is. ❤️

This entry was posted in dance.
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