Author: Emilee

There are some days that are simple and light and could be described as “pleasant.”

And then there are days that are complicated and dark and can be described using expletives that make your mom angry to hear them, causing you even more frustration.

(No? Just me? Okay.)

Sometimes those days turn in to weeks, or longer, and it can wear pretty rough on your soul.

Sometimes it piles on top of everything else you already deal with every day, making it feel hard to breathe.

So you debate even going to ballet, although it’s been a while and having days where you actually don’t feel exhausted are way fewer and farther between than they used to be and in spite of everything you’re still semi-alive enough to go.

You get in your car, get caught in traffic, cut off more times to count.

You finally get there right when your favorite song comes on the radio, so you wait it out before going inside.

The familiarity of the place begins to seep into your pores, saturating your skin, making it’s way deeper until it hits your blood stream.

You change into your ballet clothes, realizing your tights are still in your car. You get said tights, then finish actually getting dressed. Then realize your shoes are in your car, too, so you go back out and get your shoes, thankful that you haven’t cleaned out your car yet and that you check these things before class, and also that you get here early enough to take all these things into account.

You find the studio full, half with new faces. It’s a bit intimidating, until class begins, and one of your favorite teachers leads you through combinations that challenge your brain and body and you help the new girl next to you know which direction to turn in a soutenu.

And for that glorious hour, all your mind can allow to take in is ballet; the steps, the execution, the timing, the corrections. There’s no room for the stress you walked in with, the pending whatevers that leave you anxious or the fear of the unknown.

For the first time in what seems like forever, you’re finally in a place that’s familiar, a place that feels like home.

All those fears and anxieties and stresses will be there when you leave, but you leave a little lighter, knowing that you had an entire hour where you could leave it and just breathe.

This is why you dance.

This is why you fight.

This is why you refuse to give up.

 

Never quit fighting.

At our studio, we have a month we’re we do summer intensive classes. The levels aren’t broken up so extensively, due to the smaller size, but the kids who attend take classes for a greater part of the day, having a variety of different types of classes, special teachers brought in, and really good hands on instruction. 

For the younger ones, we have continuing classes, depending on size and median age range for each level, some are able to get intense in their own right. 

I teach two of the classes on Saturday: 3-5 year old ballet and 6-8 year old ballet. 

The classes only last one month, which we are halfway through, and it seems to be the freaking summer of prodigies, at least for my classes. There’s a couple in each class, it seems, and even then the rest seem way above their peers for the most part. 

It’s an exciting thing for a teacher. To have kids in class that are excited to learn and grow. To teach them things a bit above where they should be and for them to soak it up and blow your mind. 

My favorite class is the 6-8 ballet. They’re all around the same age, though a few are technically 5 1/2, but none are older than 6. And they’re all doing things that I would give to the 8 year olds, and they’re doing really well with it. It’s exciting to be able to introduce things to them that are a bit complex and really get to work with them on it, knowing that in the gal they’ll be so very prepared to handle anything that comes their way. 

The 3-5 ballet is good, too. The struggle there is the class is split, 3 year olds and 5 year olds. Some of the 3 year olds are brand new and struggle to focus a little. Some of them do just fine and work really hard. It’s still a good class, especially considering 3 year olds are just that–three. years. old. 

I love these ages so much. The kids are so happy and so excited. They’re full of dreams and light. They remind me that life is worth fighting for and that there are good things in the world, even when so much is bad. 

There’s one girl I had last week who was brand new to our studio. I gave her complex explanations of things and she just jumped right to it with incredible technique. She is a natural, in every sense of the word. She takes it slow if she needs to to make sure she’s doing it exactly right, which even at 5 1/2 can be hard to come by. So often they just want to get through the work to the “fun stuff.” When you find one who finds the work fun, it’s a recipe for immense success. She’s so happy and excited and loves hugs. 

Her mom told me that she’s never seen her like this. That usually she is a reserved child. That she’s never been so excited about a class or a teacher or an activity like this. Her schedule is sort of complicated, as they live out of town and she’s pretty active in different things, but hopefully we can work with her and have her stay with us in the fall. 

I’ve heard of students you see and as soon as you meet them they’re excited about them and their potential. She’s one of them. And then this past week another one walked in the door. It’s blowing my mind. 

I get to be a part of these kids lives. How cool is that? Every single one of these kids I teach, I have a part in who they become, even if they forget me and who I am completely. 

I try not to take that lightly. 

And, for sure, their impact on my life will resound for years to come. 

*but really this time. 

If you’ve been following for a while, you remember the first time I tried to see the Houston Ballet.

This time, we went as sort of a make-shift studio field trip. There were over 20 of us all together, and we all found people to drive and ride with, got directions on how to get there, and what time we wanted to meet at the theatre. 

My car had the potential of being full, but ended up being only me and one other girl. I was just grateful to have someone to go with me. From where I live, Houston is about a 3 hour drive, (used to be 4 before the speed limit went to 75-80 half the way there) and I knew, especially coming home, that it would be a bit of a risk for me to make that solo. This weekend was packed already and my body was pretty pooped, but I was super pumped and it all worked out pretty well. Kara was great company, which made the journey to and from half the fun! 

If you’re not from Texas, you may not know what Buc-ee’s is, or understand our obsession with a certain beaver, but here it’s a sort of tradition that we must stop at the gas station with the cleanest bathrooms in the land and stock up on beaver nuggets. (Which sadly hurt my teeth now, but we stop just the same.) 

My arms weren’t long enough, so his nose just got in it. 

We got to the theatre early, found parking, and followed a sweet couple, who were ballet aficionados, into the theatre as the husband cracked jokes with kara and they talked about school districts. (He’s a teacher.) 

We got to the theatre, picked up our tickets at will call, (“there’s about 10 of your people up there already!”) and got our tickets scanned. 

That was the part I never got to before. 

Kara and I rode the escalator up (she, in an arabesque, me putting everything on my Instagram story) and took in the wonder of the lobby, all decorated in larger-than-life portraits of dancers and videos projected onto high walls. 

Our seats were up in the balcony, which, for La Bayadère, i was actually quite excited for. I don’t know much about the different classical ballets, (yet) but I did know Shades was in this one, and I was excited to be able to see the shapes and lines. 

I was also super excited, because the principal dancer dancing Nikiya was one of the first dancers I ever learned of when I first got into ballet and started learning all about this world. I didn’t know she would be dancing this part that day until we got our programs, when I obviously freaked out. 

We took the elevator to our seats, which Ms Munro pointed out the elevators actually worked here. She has stories of having to take elevators to the stage and one getting stuck between floors while she was in it and she could hear her music playing, and another when all the floors were in German, so she couldn’t figure out which one meant “stage.” (Though now she can still tell you.)

The stairs to your seats were steep, making for great, unobstructed viewing. I also loved that you could see the Orchestra from where we were. There’s something about a live, professional orchestra that just does something to my soul. 

The set design and costumes were absolutely divine. It’s also cool to know that some of the costumes we use now were once used by the Houston Ballet. 

Ms Munro had a pair of binoculars we passed around, where you could really see their faces and the articulation of their feet. 

Plus the set design. Don’t worry, I took this during intermission. 

I was blown away by how into it every person was. From the young dancers that were brought in for certain scenes, to the side characters, everyone was 100% on, 100% of the time. Plus, you could really see how each and every one of them pointed through their feet any dang time they moved them, something that comes with loads of training and hard work. 

The men overall were insanely impressive, with their flawless and complex jumps and turns. To say I was in awe would be an understatement. 

Sarah Webb was a brilliant Nikiya, so fluid and light in all of her movements. Like there wasn’t a possibility at all that this took an effort, or could possibly go differently than planned or rehearsed. It was artistry like I’d never seen. 

The chemistry between her and Charles-Louis Yoshiyama was quite convincing and very well done. I was shocked to learn later that this was his premier as Solor. 

Gamzatti, Soo Youn Cho, was also absolutely incredible. There was this moment where she held this balance so long that I didn’t even know I would want to count but I was mad I didn’t cause she was there forever. 

Also of note was Ajah, who freaking killed (pun intended) her role, which was danced by Jessica Collado. 

I was really impressed with how well the story came across to someone who knew nothing of the story line before walking into the theatre that day. I want to write more about how impressive it all was, but I truly just can’t find the words. 

Shades was absolutely enchanting. Their formations and lines were near flawless, and that first girl who came down that slanted part of the stage and had to do the same combination so many times to allow for the other girls to all get on stage in succession, (24 of them) and also to keep the path so perfectly as it weaved across the stage–ah! It was a sight to behold. 

If someone asked me what my favorite part was, I think it was Shades, because it is the one I relate to the most. Obviously, I could never be Houston Ballet corps caliber, that’s just not in the cards for me, but I was Corpus Christi Ballet corps caliber, so I brought to mind the struggles of putting on Swan Lake and how difficult it can be to learn to get the timing right and all that goes into it. I appreciated how much these 24 girls work their butts off, especially there three with the added solos (shout out Tyler Donatelli) for how much really goes into being able to make a corps role look good as a whole. They all knocked it out of the park. The straight lines and the different shapes and the transitions were all so incredible that my mind couldn’t keep up with trying to figure it all out, which is how it should be. 

The endurance all of the dancers in this production have is something that should definitely be noted. The hard work and training and time and energy that goes into putting on a production like this is not something to be taken lightly or scoffed at. 

The ending scene was also so impressive. The gods were so freaking still before (spoiler alert) the temple comes crashing down that had I not read the cast list, I would have thought they were actual statues. The stabbings were well done to look as realistic as possible without actually shoving a dagger into a dancer. Like. Woah. 

I had the binoculars during moments with each of the principals, as well as the shades and some of the Gamzatti sisters, and I found it hard to believe that Sara Webb and Soo Youn Cho weren’t actually their characters. That they weren’t angry like the parts I saw of their faces, hardened towards each other. The acting was as impressive as the dancing. 

Some of my favorite moments I want to remember: 

• The way the pointe shoes sound when they hit the stage floor just right–so light
• The way it sounded when the guys all landed huge jumps in perfect synchronization. 
• The live snakes. 
• The way the girls next to me were marking with their hands the variation of shades they had just learned in class the week before. 
• The way the orchestra played and how it seemed to transport me to another moment in time. 

Watching the dancers and realizing that I knew the names for each step they were doing was an indescribable feeling. Knowing that we are all part of the same world, though very different levels of it. It’s cool to know that the same things I do in class are the same things they’re doing on stage, just in a different order and with was better technique and execution. Knowing, also, that these are the same things that generations of dancers have done before us is one of my favorite things about ballet. 

After the show, we got to go into the green room and meet a few of the dancers. We got there kind of late and I was bummed I didn’t get to meet Tyler Donatelli who was in there but slipped out before I could meet her. I have followed her on Instagram for quite some time and posted a comment afterwards that’s slightly awkward and embarrassing because I’m slightly fangirling but seriously I loved Shades and she killed her solo. 

I did get to meet Sara Webb. We took a group picture and got her autograph and I am proud to say that she is so very nice and not as tall as I imagined, which is actually good because it means her dancing makes her appear taller and her limbs longer which is what we all strive for. I can officially die happy now, though I hope I don’t actually die soon. Even still, this is a moment i won’t soon forget. 

I’m the awkwardly tall one, hi. 

We also got to meet Soo Youn Cho and Charles-Louis Yoshiyama right as they were starting to kick us out. They were also so very kind and didn’t hate the fact that there were a bajillion of us. 

I swear, I was on cloud nine. I know I’m freaking almost 30, but still. This was a dream come true. More than I ever imagined when I set out to follow this silly dream of dancing ballet that had planted in my heart as a young girl and was denied me for so many years. 

I snuck up to Charles to get the third autograph because we were supposed to be leaving, but I have no regrets. 

Here are a few more pictures 

The couple we followed 

Complete creeper shot of Sara Webb’s tutu

(In case she ever sees this blog, i included this picture of her and her friend. Excited post-show hugs are the best)

This is an experience I’ll never forget. 

Sometimes I go back on super old blog posts, just to see where I’ve been. To remember. 

I would catch myself walking backstage during shows, costume swishing as I walked, pointe shoes off my heels causing me to walk awkwardly, and a thought would pop into my head: 

“This is your reality. This is right now. It’s not a dream or some distant hope. This is you; your life. Soak up every detail while you have it.”

I’m well aware of how life can change in an instant, but even so I’m prone to take things for granted. To get caught up in the drama or emotions of a moment and forget to step back and realize the gifts the day gives me. 

This October will be six years since I started ballet. I’ve written about it before and reflected different times throughout, but passing that number five seems to be hitting me. 

I was a different person then. Not completely, but in many ways. There were decisions I made then that could have completely changed my path of life, causing me to never pursue dance in the slightest. 

Looking back, this blows my mind, because most of everything I do is based on dance in  some way. 

I remember the beginning days. Being absolutely terrified, but being more afraid of regret. I remember the panic. I remember the kindness shown me by other dancers. And looking back now, I’m so glad I started this thing, to have the stories and pictures and memories to look back on. 

Sometimes I wonder why I every started a blog. I mean, having a “legit” blog was on my bucket list, though I don’t really know why now. I mean, obviously writing is my jam, but I’m not really sure what the draw of a blog was. Maybe it was an 2010’s thing. (Is that what we call this decade? Ugh this is hard.) 

But I think of the things I’ve learned, having this. The people I’ve met. (Some from the blog, some just from dance.) it’s been a year since I began my ballet Instagram, and since then I’ve gained over 1,500 followers and countless dear friends to boot. Cherished friends from all over the world. I’ve met people that have reached out to me and helped me with my health, helped me with my technique, helped me with learning bits of other languages, so many incredible things. 

Ballet has introduced me to some of my very most cherished friends. Thosetypes that   you know you could call if it’s 3am and you’re stranded on the highway, or need help moving, or–in recent days–organizing your tiny house that seems to be freaking Mary Poppins carpet bag because how can it hold so much?! 

They’re the people you call or text when life gives you more than you know what to do with. The ones that encourage you on your dark days and remind you of the light inside of you and the future you still have ahead. 

They’re the friends that go to movies with you, or freaking fly to Florida for a Harry Potter day of perfection. 

These are the people living out my many-faceted dreams with me. They encourage me in ways I didn’t know people could. They teach me so much about life and people and kindness. They show me how to treat people. They make me better. 

Without them, I wouldn’t be half the person I’ve grown to be in the past 6 years. 

So this ones for you, my friends. 

You know who you are. 

And you’ll never be able to know how much you truly mean to me. There just aren’t words. 

Thank you, truly. 

This weekend ended up taking more out of me than I originally anticipated. 

Trying to find the balance in my life while not feeling like I’m nothing but a mass taking up space is a hard feat, it turns out. I was exhausted, but I went to class anyway. 

When I got there I highly considered curling up in my car and sleeping instead, but I didn’t. 

Class was great. There was a new girl, which was refreshing. She has some serious skill, too, and I really hope she comes back! 

I got a couple of “good!”‘s from the teacher, which made me feel, well, good. I was at the barre farther from the mirror, so you can actually see yourself in the mirror, and I stole a few glances here and there. I’m not really one to look at myself in the mirror since I’m prone to self criticism, but this time I was glad I did. It reminded me that my body is shaped the way it is largely due to the work I’ve put in to this art craft to make it work the best for what I do and to create the lines I want. I’m not perfect by a long shot, but I have put 5.5 years into this, and that long into anything shows some sort of results. 

Dancing made me feel alive. It also reminded me of all the reasons I dance for my health. It also brought a harsh reminder of all the ways my body can’t keep up like it used to. I was out of breath sooner, my heart pounded harder, and by the end of it I was ready to sleep for 12 hours. But I had to wake up and go to work. Exhausted. Like I said, still trying to find the balance. 

I did manage some really solid turns. Probably the cleanest turns I’ve had, maybe ever. Including inside turns, which are my demise. Granted, they weren’t en pointe, but I implemented what the teacher said in class on Wednesday about putting your weight onto the standing leg to help with the balance and-bam-I balanced. Imagine that, right? 

I want to go to class tomorrow, and I think I could manage it, except for the fact that this weekend how now become incredibly full. This past weekend was also full, and if I want to be of any use at work I have to cut back. This is all beyond frustrating, but in trying to do what I can while I can and make the most of what I’m given, yet not over do it. 

I got to wear my new skirt! Which was the best part. I’m obsessed, y’all. 

Don’t mind my derp face. I forgot to think about it… oops… 

but isn’t the skirt so pretty? 

Hope y’all are well! 

I made it to a class on Wednesday

And cried most of the way home.

I don’t say this for pity. Honestly, I’d prefer not to say anything. To just keep to myself and fake that everything is okay while I’m around people. I’m good at that. I’ve done it for years, now. It’s easier than trying to explain to people why someone so happy would be unhappy, or whatever terms you want to insert there. I still write here because I feel I owe it to the people who have been following along for years. Those friends I’ve made through social media. The ones who have reached out to me out of their own experiences and helped me get answers. I write for the ones still struggling to find their own, to show them that they’re not alone and that everything they’re going through is allowed and okay.

Sometimes I forget I’m sick. The reminders are subtle and with a low-impact day I can get through somewhat unphased. I start feeling good, and subsequently take on more than I can handle and end up worn out by simple things.

Being sick is still an adjustment. Having a diagnosis is new to me, and I’m still having to adjust my life to what this means.

I overdid it on Tuesday, causing me to really feel it on Wednesday. But I was determined to make it to a class, especially since my favorite teacher was teaching and summer classes are always the best classes. There were five of us, which was perfect, honestly. 

It had been a while since I’d been in a class, and I was given really good corrections. Things I’ve been struggling with for a while and need to think about. The hard part was filtering through all the things my brain was telling me. It became quite the chore, trying to decide between what was a correct thought and what was self criticism. More infuriating still, knowing that I had been able to do this and more even just last year.  Knowing that I’m not able to progress, but instead falling behind, and knowing that this is to be my new normal. It was the struggle of how much to fight and when to accept defeat. 

My entire dance story has been riddled with struggle. I could hardly go a month without getting injured in some way or having something happen to me causing me to miss or sit out. But even among all the criticism, and being asked “how long are you going to do this dance thing?” I always knew that I could fight. I could fight and work hard and progress. In my life, even, if there’s something I don’t like I know I have the power to change it. This is something I’ve learned over the years, but now I know that avoiding or procrastinating or just sitting back and complaining won’t do anything to alleviate the problem. Dance helped teach me that. You want change? Work for it. Go in the direction of where you want to be and you’ll get there.

 I’ve tasted the sweet victory of working hard and knowing that in time the work will pay off. I’ve seen the pay off. I’ve felt that indescribable feeling that comes with it. And now I’m faced with the one change I never saw coming; an illness that takes away the ability to do the one thing I’ve learned causes change. I’ve lost the ability to push through, the energy to fight for what I’m working for. I’m having to come to terms with the fact that the one thing that’s gotten me to where I am the last 28.5 years is the thing I can no longer do or count on. 

Being in the studio felt like home. It felt right, where I’m supposed to be. Why is it, then, that the place that felt so comforting in my current world of chaos found its own way of being chaotic if only between my ears? 

I felt defeated, when really even being there is a triumph these days. Making it through the entire class is something I should be celebrating. 

I’m still trying to figure everything out. Trying to adjust and accept and learn my new reality. I’m trying not to be too hard on myself, but being sick is a lonely place to be, and I have the advantage of being an introvert. 

Proper summer classes begin this next week. Adult ballet is, thankfully, earlier, and even then still late for me to get through my entire day now–an enfuriation on its own. 

I’m hopeful that all hope isn’t loss. That maybe there’s something ahead that I can’t see that will help all of this. But I also know that this isn’t typically my life. And even though I can’t fight like I used to, I have to figure out a new way to fight. That my story isn’t over. That dance will be possible in some way. Right now it all might seem overwhelming, but that maybe it won’t always be that way. 

I had a blog written last week, but it didn’t save before I got a chance to post it. Bleh. 

There were classes this week, but I wasn’t able to go to them. There are classes this week, and then summer begins the next week. I’ll be teaching two classes on Saturdays, and hopefully getting to attend the adult classes twice a week. 

My body seems to be adjusting to the medicine I’m on, which is just for the repercussions from not having a gallbladder. It doesn’t fix everything, as I still get really tired, but it does help, as I’m not near as weak since I can actually eat food now. 

I’m hopeful that things will be okay. 

My future is uncertain. I hope to find out more st my follow up in August on whether this seems to be something that will last long term or if it’s something that could improve with time. Until then, I’m doing my best to take it easy when I can, yet still doing enough to make me feel like I’m more than just dead weight. 

I’ll try to get to classes in the fall, but can’t really gauge whether that will happen until I’m there. I will for sure be teaching. 

It’s funny; being an adult ballet dancer I often get asked, “how long are you going to keep up this whole ballet thing?” With a tone as though it is nothing more than a childhood dream. And I used to say “as long as I have feet, I’m going to dance.” I didn’t think that the thing threatening to take me out isn’t the fact that I have feet, but rather if I have the energy to make it. I never thought it would be a question because my body barely lets me get out of bed. In my head, my drive and passion was enough to make that certain. But now it’s not. Now the thing trying to snuff my dreams is completely out of my control, and the one thing that could actually do it. Without the energy to do it, you just can’t. There isn’t a way to work around it. I never saw this coming. 

Thankfully, all my big dreams have been accomplished. Thankfully, my doctor encourages me to go to class any chance I get. Thankfully I’m still able to go some times, even if it isn’t near as much as I’d like and even if I essentially have to hang up my pointe shoes. 

That’s okay. 

It’s hard to be on this side dreams, sometimes. But also invigorating. Knowing that I did it. 

Now, I’m sitting on my couch watching Harry Potter instead of in my house cleaning to try and get back into it after a terrible flea infestation. (Pier and beam in the country… the struggle is real.) 

Hope you all are well. Thanks for sticking with me! 

We had our annual recital this weekend. 

My last recital was last year, so I didn’t dance this weekend, but I did teach my first three classes this year, and I had one class the first night and two classes the second night. 

When I first came on as a teacher, I didn’t know if I could do recital. I’ve never choreographed before, how the heck was I gonna do that three times? How was I gonna pick costumes and music and put moves to the music and teach tiny children how to do those moves? 

I enlisted the help of friends and tried to get choreographing done before tax season came on so that way I didn’t feel more pressure when spring came. Plus, I wanted my kids to have as much time to learn it as possible to hopefully be able to have it as clean as possible. Granted, this is so much easier when you only have three dances rather than the numerous ones my fellow teachers have. 

Honestly, i wasn’t sure i would get a recital out of my 3-4 year old class. It was rough from the first day, having to use much of my time just to keep kids from running around the entire time, using any form of teaching powers I could think of. By second semester, it was starting to progress. The kids were beginning to behave and we were able to actually teach them things and get through an entire class. We were able to give them a recital and actually go through the choreography with them. 

I wasn’t sure how they would do on stage. I was sure one would cry the entire time if I could get her out there. There was only one out of seven that I knew for sure would dance, the rest were very hit and miss. 

We had a rehearsal on Thursday. At our allotted time, only two of my seven were there. So we ran it once. Then we got one more and ran it our second time. Then two more got there, changed their kids in the wings, and we were able to run it a third time for the other two. I was super grateful because they were the ones I knew would do well with knowing what to expect to get the best results. One of the missing ones was sick Thursday, but thankfully felt fine on Saturday and was able to dance. She was the flipping cute one that everyone in the audience was laughing at the melting of their hearts. My one I thought would cry didn’t, and all of them at least did some of the dance moves, which at this age was more than I could help for. The one I knew would dance did great and did the entire thing. They were a bit difficult to get off the stage, but it worked and they were so adorable. 

My 4-5 year old class was before there’s on Saturday. They have been such a dream class all year. The perfect size, everyone so focused, tiny little sponges just soaking up everything. I was able to make the dance a little more complex and know they’d be just fine to do it. What’s more, I had to change it two weeks before show because two dropped which threw off my numbers and the original choreography. But the girls did so great at remembering the change and doing well. This class got the same costume we had used my last recital at my old studio before it shut down. They also got my favorite song. The tutu was purple and turns out so many of them have purple as their favorite color. Winning! 

They were all there for rehearsal on Thursday. Day of show, one of them was missing her shoes. Thankfully I knew one of the moms of my tall student from my other class, so we were able to borrow hers and then switch them back before they danced. We were the third dance and when we get on stage, I realize one of the girls was still in the bathroom. The other 6 were on stage, in the dark, while we rushed for the missing one. We got her back, put her on stage in the wrong spot and she gently told me in a whisper, “I stand by Evelyn” which, thank God, because it would have messed up everything had she been in the wrong spot. But she’s so smart and studious. 

I’m so proud of this class. They all were so focused all year and worked really hard. I’ll hopefully have some of them next year and some even this summer, which makes me so happy. I love them so much and they show so much promise and hope. 

One of them gave me a gift at rehearsal. 

She wrote the card herself 😭 it melted my heart. 

I absolutely love candles and was so excited to find this inside. It smells divine! 

When the year began, she was the student that encouraged me the most, just in her deminor. She was so excited to be there and loved me so much and it made my Saturdays something I looked forward to rather than something I dreaded. It made me feel like I could do this, that I wasn’t completely screwing everything up. As the year went on, this whole class made me feel that way. I can’t explain how much this meant to me to have, especially this year with everything that’s happened. It’s more than words can describe. 

My 5-6 year olds were my biggest class, which at times I found hard to manage. I was worried maybe I wasn’t as much as I needed to be. That I could be more, do more for them. This class taught me the most about teaching, and creative ways to adjust to the needs of the class. 

By the time we got to the last week, I was blown away. Even the one who struggled the most had learned so much. More than I could have hoped. They knew the terminology, they would ask about things way above their level. I’d show them and half of them could do it with impressive technique. The other half was still good. 

We started their recital early, and even updated it to give them more complex steps. I kept it relatively simple with the hopes that they would do really well in what they knew rather than trying to make it more difficult and them putzing through it. I was nervous it might seem too simple compared to everyone else’s. 

The night of rehearsals, one of the moms came up to me and told me she was blown away by how much her daughter had learn this well and how she knew the entire dance so well and looked so good doing it. I told her she was one of two of my girls that I knew I could always count on to know what to do, even my subs said the same. I told her how talented her daughter is and she thanked me for being such a great teacher. 

This really touched my heart. It’s as though everything I was afraid of melted away. That I did well. That these girls learned something. 

One of my girls had told me toward the end of the year, “my mommy said I had to do recital and then I don’t have to dance anymore if I don’t want to.” On Friday, she came up to me, extremely excited, and told me, “I want to take ballet again next year!” You could see the change in her. She was understanding and asking great questions and remembering things. It made me so proud. 

One of my other babies came up to me day of recital and gave me these 

With a card that she wrote her name on, thanking me for teaching her this year. My heart was a puddle. It meant so much to me. 

A bunch of the girls colored me pictures, which of course I’ll keep forever. I have pictures kids I babysat drew me that I’ve shown them on their wedding day. 

They went on stage and completely rocked it. It brought me so much joy to see them. I could have watched it forever. 

Seeing them watching me at times while doing this dance and doing it so freaking well, it’s one of those moments that you just cherish. 

Kids are my favorite kind of people. They’re honest. They love without reservation. They’re so trusting and resilient. Getting to be a part of these kids lives, even if just for this one year, it means everything to me. I know I’ll never forget them, I just hope they don’t forget me, or what they’ve learned this year. I hope that spark inside them starts a fire that guides them throughout life. 

I wrote them all cards and gave them to them the last day of class, and took pictures with the whole class. I hope they realize how increasingly proud I am of each of them. 

That class ending was one of the hardest things, because chances are I won’t teach them again. They’re getting older. I want to keep them safe in this year forever, but I know that’s not realistic. I just hope this year is a good memory for them to reflect on as they grow. 

One of my girls moms told me she had something for me and asked where I would be at intermission. I told her I’d be in the rehearsal hall with the girls. 

When I got there, she had a James Avery bag that she handed to me. My jaw dropped and I could feel my eyes getting teary, knowing that anything in that bag had to be quite expensive. I opened it to find 

This beautiful necklace. The necklace is made to hold charms, and they picked out the heart charm for me as well. I was speechless. I put it on immediately and thanked them profusely. Her mom thanked me for teaching her daughter this year. She told me how much she appreciated me. My eyes tear up at the memory. 

After recital, some friends and me went to Macaroni Grill as per usual. I saw her mom and turns out we were seated near them. I went over and said hi and my sweet girls face lit up. Her mom and grandma and dad and aunt were all there, and they told me how much she talks about me and how much she loves me and how much she’s learned. They all thanked me. And I thanked them, because I love this sweet girl so much. 

I don’t think I can explain how much these gifts and words have meant to me. The class itself was proof enough to me that the year was successful, but hearing it from the parents and girls was so reassuring. 

If you appreciate someone, if someone has taught you something, tell them; show them. It means more than you’ll ever realize. I know, for me, it’s something I’ll carry with me for the rest of me life. 

These girls have taught me more than I ever thought I could learn; about teaching, about ballet, about people, about love, about passion. Thinking of them fills me with a warmth I can’t describe. They have ruined me of all future classes because they were all so wonderful this year. I am so grateful. 

And honestly, I couldn’t have done it without my assistants. No way, no how. They were at times life lines, especially with getting so sick. I don’t think they know or realize how much they helped me. They have set a high standard for any future assistants I may have, as they have seemed to read my mind and been there before I even knew what I needed. 

This year has left me remembering what I love most about ballet. About life. About everything. And I’m so beyond grateful for that. 

It’s amazing how quickly things can change.

Two months ago, I was preparing for the final run-throughs and theatre week of our spring show, Snow White. Now, I can’t even make it to a ballet class because my body is just too drained. Heck, I can hardly make it through a work day at this point, and it’s the off season.

Granted, two months ago, I was struggling so badly with whatever was attacking my body. I remember the rehearsals where I had to sit out and lay on the floor with minimal movement just to avoid passing out, with no explanation. I remember the freighted look on the cover’s face as she had been so new in to be the cover for the role which had about 6 different ways the dance could be done depending on where you stood, and she had never done my section before. (She pulled it off, like an epic cover.)

But now, I’m diagnosed. Something I’ve waited over a decade for. I know at least part of what it is that’s causing me to feel this way, even if I’m not 100% sure how it began or what caused it to stir up. I can’t just sit back and pretend like it’s not a thing anymore.

This is a thing.
I feel this thing.
This thing is exhausting as heck.
I can’t ignore this thing.

It’s annoying, not being able to do things that a normal person should be able to do. It’s frustrating, having to scale back and limit myself so much. It’s exhausting, having to explain it to people who don’t really believe me just so I can press through the things I can’t cut out of my life. Existing isn’t supposed to be this exhausting.

I have a great group of friends who are here for me, and without them there to listen to my endless complaining, I don’t know where I’d be. One has even offered to come over and help me get my house back in order from the recent flea infestation epidemic. (Note: if you live in a house that on pier and beam, get dang skirting around the bottom of the house so stupid cats can’t come and live under your house with their flea infested selves, causing them to get into your house.) This is huge because I’m currently having to stay in my parents house, which while I appreciate them so much, it’s its own kind of draining, being there.

Still, most of this I have to face alone. I don’t know what I’d do without the help of friends, and occasionally my sister, who graciously went to the grocery store with me Sunday because I honestly didn’t know if I’d make it through a crowded place and manage to get everything I needed without panicking or perhaps passing out.
But aside from the occasional time someone can help, it’s just me.
I still have to work because I have bills I have to pay and no one can help me pay them.
I have to keep my house in order because I live alone and no one is gonna do it for me.
I’m an adult. Living a successful life on my own. And now illness decides I’ve been avoiding it’s subtle nudges the last 14 years. Apparently it decided it was time for an onslaught of struggles. Ones I find it hard to ignore or avoid.

I’ve been exhausted since about 12:30, but really I’ve been tired since my eyes opened this morning. There were about two hours that were manageable, but now I feel like I just ran a marathon and the endorphins have worn off. Except I’ve been sitting at my desk most of the day, doing simple bookkeeping. After this, I have to go to recital rehearsal for my babies, which I’ve never done before and makes me pretty anxious. I don’t entirely know what is expected of me, though I have asked a dear friend what I need to know and she’s helped me out immensely. I’m just afraid I’ll miss something. I probably won’t. Ugh, I want my bed.

This new reality has my heart in a sense of grief.
My doctor encouraged me to still attend dance classes, but no more than I can handle. (ie. no more shows. Which, I mean, I knew that.) But at this point anything past work seems like too much.

I want nothing more than to be able to take class. To not feel like I could fall asleep anytime or anywhere if I just closed my eyes for more than 30 seconds. I want to be normal; have a normal life, pursue the things I love, get out of my house more than just to come to work, hang out with friends. All of this has really just begun for me–the extremity of it, that is–and my mind is already going a million miles an hour. I want to sleep for five days, but even then I know it wouldn’t do anything. It’s not so much that I’m sleepy or tired, it’s that my body is physically drained.

I’m trying not to worry about what the future may or may not hold, but that’s also kind of difficult to do at this point. I’m not sure if I’ll ever improve past this point. Right now, I just don’t want to get worse. I can’t tell if the medications are helping or making it worse, but have a fancy app that helps me keep track of what I have to take and when and how my body reacts. So that’s cool.

I hope this blog is still able to be one where I get to post about ballet, and that I don’t find myself unable to go.

One thing is for certain, I am extremely grateful to the discipline I have learned the last five and a half years that I have been taking classes. It’s helping me to endure and do my best to fight this stuff however I can.

I hope you stick around, still, even in the uncertainty of my future in dance.

The last class I took was a wonderful class, though I find myself doing better after a break since I don’t think to compensate for things that hurt, haha! I got a bunch of great compliments from my teacher and even if the moves caused some pain, they felt good to do. Ethereal, even. I caught myself in the mirror at barre and couldn’t believe that this was me here, doing this thing, and looking this way doing it. Almost as though a dream had been made real. I don’t ever want to lose that. I don’t want to have to give it up.

Hopefully I’ll be able to make summer classes. And if classes are just too late in the fall, my porch is done which gives me room to actually try things, though the boards make stubbing my toes a high probability, haha.

In the midst of all this, I ordered a new skirt from Flic Flac Dance that I’m really excited for. Hopefully it’ll be the inspiration I need to keep myself moving.

 

I went to class on Wednesday. 

For the first time since probably march? Honestly I don’t remember the last time I was able to take a class. 

I remember the last class, though. It was Mrs Alex’s class, which is my favorite adult class. I remember feeling dizzy, and sick, and weak. I remember struggling. And I remember not being able to stay past barre because my body was too done. 

I have Fridays off again since tax season is over, so I stayed for class Wednesday since it was the last class of the year. 

I was exhausted, but I pushed through. 

As per usual, I was the best I’d been in a while. This happens any time I come back after being out, and I think I figured out why. I think it’s because I forget what hurts, so I don’t account for it, so I do everything so great. 

I definitely felt it the next morning. My knee was throbbing, my legs were sore, my ankle was angry. I was exhausted. 

I had my follow up appointment with my rheumatologist yesterday. I told her how I hadn’t been able to go to class since march or so because I was too exhausted. She was really concerned, especially since it has escalated so quickly. 

We talked through some things, got the lab results, and did some examining. She was curious as to whether my legs were actually two different lengths, or if it was something in my back. 

My left leg is 80 cm and my right is 81 cm. Which may not seem like much, but it really is. We’re not sure why my leg is shorter, but it is. So I’ll have to have the lift in my shoe for the rest of forever. Sweet. 😂

She was shocked by the extremity of my hypermobility, and i brought up ehlers danlos syndrome again. I showed her diagnostic sheet that the ehlers danlos website people had put out this week and all the things that were applicable to me. She gave be a verbal affirmation that I do have the hypermobility type of ehlers danlos syndrome. I’m excited because it’s finally something. I’ve been sick for 14 years, been seeing doctors for 9, and I have been trying like hell to try and convince people that it’s not all in my head. I’ve finally found doctors that agree that I am not okay and have been working with me to find answers. 

She said that having your gallbladder out can cause your body to have auto immune type symptoms. She prescribed me a medication to help with that. 

The bloodwork shows that I am a carrier of the mono gene, which has caused me to have chronic fatigue syndrome. I’ve never had mono, but I apparently have been exposed to someone with it, so my body has been fighting off the virus even though I’m not “sick with it.” That explains why I’m so freaking tired all the time. 

She agreed that shows are too much, but encouraged me to keep dancing as many classes as I can get there. She also told me to rest as much as humanly possible, which gives me an excuse to be an introvert #bless. But it sucks because I’m still trying to get my house back in order and scrubbed, and not being able to do much without being completely exhausted is annoying as heck. 

I’m currently writing this while laying on my floor, in pain from throwing out my back as well, trying to plot out what I can actually accomplish today with the energy I have left. 

Summer classes start in june, so I’m very excited at the prospect of getting back into class and getting home earlier. Hopefully it’s okay and I’m able to attend them without being too tired. And hopefully the medication I’ll be taking will help.