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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
Hi, it’s been a minute, new blog post. Link in bio.
Gotta get back to Hogwarts Gotta get back to school Gotta get myself to Hogwarts Where everything is magicooooool
Mischief Managed.

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Lots of the same.

My classes have been mostly filled with the most wonderful kids this year. I am ridiculously grateful for this as it could really have been a rough year. I have quite a few that I’ve taught before, which always makes me so happy, and some of them take classes on days I teach so I still get to hug their necks. It warms my heart seeing them excited to see me. I don’t think they realize I’m just as excited to see them.

Things seem to have shifted of late. I could try to pinpoint why, but I’m not really sure. I’m trying to just take everything in stride and see where it takes me, but all of this has left me sort of pulling back from here and my instagram, which I never thought would happen. Maybe it’s a good thing, I’m sure time will tell.

It no doubt ties in to health stuff. As I lay here on my bed typing this blog post, which is a culmination of many different ideas for posts over the last few weeks, I feel absolutely exhausted and overwhelmed at the thought of the upcoming week. This isn’t even with digging into the emotional toll this all actually has on me, but rather is just the surface, visible emotion.

I’m learning a lot about myself, which is a good thing, I just find it difficult to not feel guilty at not keeping up with all the ballet goodness as much as I used to. The opinions in my head get really hard on myself about how I worked so hard to build this up and now I’m not even fighting for it anymore. But how can I fight anymore than I do if even just the mundane, normal, day-to-day is more than I can realistically handle right now? I don’t know. I hope to figure it out. I love what I have found through dance and I appreciate you all more than I can say. I just feel a bit lost, I suppose.

I turned 30 last weekend, which began with me teaching 3 classes that Saturday. Many of the teachers take the day off if they teach on their birthday, or end up going out of town or something. I love teaching on my birthday. What better way is there to begin a new year than surrounded by kids who still think birthday’s are magical? I bring them cupcakes and their eyes light up with hopes for me and the new year. Not to mention adorable 3 year olds hugging my leg and saying “happy burfday” in their adorable speech impediment way of speaking. I don’t know how to handle birthdays. They make me feel awkward. So the past few years, and especially since I’ve started dancing, I try to take class or teach it every year. That way, I’m doing something I love, and also it fills the time and gets rid of awkward questions about my plans for the day.

It’s coming up on 7 years since I started dancing. This next week, actually. But do I really get to count the last year if I took a total of 4 classes the entire year, and wasn’t able to get all the way through any of them? Typing that sentence just broke me. Realizing that this thing I found and love so deeply and have fought for these past seven years is something I can hardly participate in anymore, knowing that nothing is certain in my future with this thing I cherish. It’s a lot to take in. (add in the guilt from the mind opinions, and it’s quite a doozy.)

Thank y’all for sticking with me through all of this. For loving me as a person and not just a dancer.

Nutcracker auditions were last weekend. I, obviously, couldn’t audition, but was asked back as a party parent, so I’ll at least be on stage again. I know standing on stage for Act 1 is going to hurt my back, and I’m not even sure if my shoe lift will fit in my character shoes.

Have I told y’all it’s only half of what I need? No?
Well it’s true. The lift in my shoe is 12mm, but apparently I need 24mm to be close to having my hips even when I walk. The problem with this is 24mm is FREAKING THICK so shoes don’t stay on with that much. My chiropractor is brainstorming ways handle this, but it’s possible I may have to special order shoes that have a left one with lift underneath. Hopefully I can find some that don’t look geriatric. In other health news, I managed to break my cane? I’m winning the granny life right now.

In other news, I have started finding time to write more, since sitting still is sometime I suck at but have to do now. Writing is (obviously) something I’m passionate about, and if you’re interested in the instagram account, it’s right here.

Hopefully I’ll have fun Nutcracker updates as December gets closer.

Love you guys

This entry was posted in dance.
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