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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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Oh, hi.

It’s been a minute.

Even then, I sat with just that first sentence for longer than I’d care to admit.

I wasn’t able to make any more classes past the one with Lindsi Dec like I was hoping to. My body was too exhausted to even try making it through a class, and I knew I needed to save up any bit of energy I had for the obligations I have before me.

Classes started August 20th. So far, they have been absolutely incredible. The kids I have are mostly dream children, and I have to ask myself what I did to get so lucky to have them. I’m very excited for the prospects of this year, although I am also on guard that I could still have many children added to my classes. Still, I think a wonderful tone has been set for the year, and I’m excited to see the progress these dancers make.

Life for me looks very different than it did this time last year. Heck, it looks different than it has ever before, really. My work load is “minimal” but also is all I can stand without extreme health repercussions. There are days that are easier to accept this than others. The difficult days have been so frequent that I’ve hardly even gotten on my ballet instagram to keep up with things. (For that I apologize.)

I used to see my friends on their go through an illness or injury that kept them from dancing for a bit and see them post that they wouldn’t be on because it was too difficult to see the reminders when they knew they couldn’t do that. I didn’t really understand it until these last three or so weeks.

I’m beginning to see, I think, that I’m really not going to be able to be who I used to be. I’ve been sick for years–literally half my life–but now that I have CFS, it’s put my life and my ambitions on hold and taken over. I see these people who are my age out there doing things that I so badly want to be doing, and I tell myself that I’m the only thing holding myself back and to go out there and do it, and then I realize that isn’t true. This illness holds me back, and to just push through it like I’m used to doing with obstacles is not only unwise, but literally threatens my quality of life, which is already way less than it used to be.

I try not to neglect the reality that I am still very lucky to be able to do as much as I do, and I want to make the most of it while I can, but I do have to come to terms with the fact that my life isn’t what it was, it isn’t what I dreamed it could be, and it’s all because of things I couldn’t control no matter how hard I try. And this isn’t something you can just learn once and be on with; it’s a many-faceted lesson that comes and goes in waves, smacking you in the face and leaving you in a puddle of tears when you least expect it.

I’m still trying to do as much as I can with my life while I have it, even if that looks differently than I expected. I’m trying to find ways to contribute to the world and those around me. I’m trying to extend myself the grace to be who I am now and the learning curve to figure out what all of this means for me. It’s a process.

This last year (since the hurricane) was one of uprooting the weeds that have been growing all my life, facing the monsters head on, and taking back my life. It’s looking as those this next year will be a sort of follow up as I fight to define why I’m even here and what my purpose is. As soon as I thought I had it figured out, it gets turned on it’s head and I’m left to start over.

But I’m still alive, and I’m still able to fight for this definition. These ailments don’t define me–I do. I still get that luxury to do so. I get to learn how to be so fully myself that nothing else matters. I’m one of the lucky ones.

 

I apologize in advance if my posts become less frequent. I’ll do my best to update when I have things of note to say. Unfortunately, having my ballet experiences quiet down means I have less and less to say that isn’t just repetitive words you’ve read a thousand times before. Hopefully around Nutcracker, I’ll have strokes of wisdom and all.

Life is weird. It’s one thing, then suddenly it’s not that anymore and you’re left to figure out what to do now.

Thanks for sticking around, y’all.

This entry was posted in dance.

One comment on “Oh, hi.

  1. vtgem24 says:

    I’ve been thinking of you, sweet friend. ❤ ❤ ❤

    Liked by 1 person

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