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Emilee

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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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Gotta get back to Hogwarts Gotta get back to school Gotta get myself to Hogwarts Where everything is magicooooool
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First class since July.

I told y’all I’d have a post of the class I took last week, and here I am just now getting to write it

My apologies.

Safe to say life has been a little hectic, but better late than never I suppose.

My back decides last Wednesday was the perfect day to hurt more than it ever has. It was so bad that I had to actually utilize the stool during my 5-6 year old class and sit while my assistants did the brunt of the demonstrating. I felt bad since they’ve been rehearsing so hard and are dealing with injuries of their own. I literally couldn’t teach without them, which is becoming increasingly clearer as each class goes by.

The kids were well behaved considering, so that was nice. Only a few kept talking, but overall they’re working so hard to be better. It’s such a big class, making it a challenge from the start. But I love them so much. They make my days better.

My friend who was supposed to take her first class that day didn’t show. I could have gone home, I had every excuse to do so, but I didn’t. Largely because I said on Instagram that I was going. I figured I had to at least try.

I did better than I expected, especially considering mental clarity wasn’t the best. It was so great to be back among my fellow adult ballet friends. I don’t think I let myself fully feel how much I miss being there. I excuse it away with optimism instead of letting myself fully feel everything that comes along with these changes. One of my dearest dance friends was next to me at the barre, like old times at our old studio. It felt so right.

I only made it through barre, and part of it I had to alter to what I was able to do. (Grand bettements on the left side didn’t exist.) My teacher was more than okay with that.

Being at the barre, going brought these fluid motions I have work hard to try and perfect for the last six years, hearing these classical renditions of show tunes and hearing my dance teacher telling us corrections in her British accent, it’s everything I never want to lose. It felt so good.

I only made it through barre, though i still managed a compliment from the teacher. I sat in and watched a bit of center, but realized my mental clarity fading in increasing measure the more I sat there. I struggled to focus, and being a full class the studio was limited on space anyway.

I sat outside in the foyer for a bit, spoke to some of the parents I hadn’t seen in so long, gave my brain a rest so I could focus enough to drive home.

I miss it, y’all. I’m grateful to still get to teach, and to pop in when I’m able, but dang I miss it.

This entry was posted in dance.
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