Author: Emilee

Ugly Ducklings.

As I’ve mentioned before, the other covers and I decided to form a squad to help us get through the fact that we’re all a bit disappointed to not be swans. We’re getting shirts made, and I told them we’d have a sleepover at my house all together.  

We had picked tonight as the Ugly Duckling night, but a few girls couldn’t stay over so we decided to see a movie that way whoever couldn’t stay over could still be a part. Turns out no one could stay over, so the movie was a great idea, haha! We also invited Ileana and Emerson, as our voted and elected mascots. When we planned the Ugly Duckling day, it felt weird not having them a part of it. They’ve been nothing but supportive and inclusive to us the whole time, they never make us feel lesser. They’re our friends. We’re proud of them and they’re proud of us. 

Emerson was able to meet me at the studio to ride with me, but before that she helped me with the baby class I usually assist with. Mia, whose the teacher, had to sub the class in the other studio so I taught ours tonight. It was so helpful having Emerson as one of the more rambunctious kids was there. Overall it went well, and we had a great time. They’re such a hilarious group, and really help remind you of why you love to dance. To them, you’re the greatest dancer in the world. And they’ll tell you. (Especially when they want to be the line leader, haha!)

Turns out Isabel couldn’t make it, but the rest of us could. We saw Zootopia, which I had seen previews for but wasn’t really sure what the story line was. I knew it had animals, and sloths, and would be a safe bet for the younger girls as well as one the losers would enjoy. 

Turns out, it was the perfect Ugly Duckling movie. 

It was all about being told you’ll never be able to be what you dream, but that if you work hard and never give up it will be worth it. 

We got into the theater a bit late, due to the long popcorn line, so finding six seats together was difficult. We found three and we’re gonna split us up three and three, but then a nice couple moved over to make four and we fit 6 of us in the four chairs–quite comfortably I might add. Perks of being dancers I guess, haha!

Overall we had such a fun time. I was so glad we were all able to have this time together. These girls are what make Swan Lake for me, and I can never express how much I appreciate them. 

We also ran into a few other people from the studio, which was fun. 

Life has been crazy and stressful and hectic, but tonight had me smiling til my face hurt. For no real reason other than being around these girls makes me so happy. I found myself still smiling when I was half way home. (Ya know, 20 minutes after I left them.) 

We didn’t get together and complain about the injustice. It wasn’t weird having the two swan “mascots” among us. It was just a fun time with our friends. And I don’t think I’ll ever be able to express how much tonight meant to me. 

These girls are what it’s about. Doing what you love, with who you love, simply because you love it. Supporting each other no matter the outcome. These are my cheerleaders, my support system. I have others as well, but these have a truly special place in my heart since we have been together since I came to this studio. I’ve watched them grow as dancers and as people (and, let’s face it, they’re getting  taller too) and I’m so proud of what I see. 

They make this whole experience worth it. 

(Thanks, girls. I love you so much.) 

  
My ducks 🙂 

Skipping class. 

I did something to my ankle in class on Monday. It doesn’t seem to be too major–landed a jump wrong or something. Maybe that mixed with overuse–and didn’t start hurting until I got home. It hasn’t let up so I skipped class yesterday to rest it. 

As I sat there with my leg iced and elevated, I put on the vinyl I got in Austin of the entire ballet of Don Quiote. 

Once that finished, I had another vinyl of a collection of works by a composer that included Nutcracker music, as well as Sleeping Beauty. 

I sat there, listening to it all, snap chatting my relations. Because I am trash. 😂

My ankle feels the same today, so I’m debating sitting out class again. I want to go, especially considering next week the studio is closed for spring break, but I don’t want to screw myself over by not resting my ankle. We have a long rehearsal Saturday, and I want to be up to par for that. The struggle. 

The mailman came by through the terrible rain we have right now (my favorite kind!) and delivered this 

  
  
I got it on eBay from these wonderful people. And now all I want to do is go home and put it on. 

Because I am ballet trash. Haha! 

But really it makes me feel better. It’s odd, because this ballet has been so painful for me, but feeling so deeply makes it almost easier to handle. Which makes no sense except that it does. At least I know I’m still alive, that I’m human, that I still feel and haven’t become numb to the world or to the thing I love to do the most. So while putting on the music may be painful, it is a kind of pain I want to feel. 

People

I had to leave church early to get to rehearsal, then went straight back after rehearsal for our building dedication. 

There’s a missions conference that’s been happening this weekend, of which I have missed most. But the missionary who spoke this morning made a good point. 

He’s a very real person, and he preaches along those lines. He’s been to some very dangerous places, and places he never expected to be–after all he didn’t think he’d be a missionary. He was a pastor. Shut down his church. Moved to Africa to open a bible school. But he’s obedient and spoke of how God fulfills His promises when we’re obedient. 

He doesn’t worry about being politically correct. He said “freaking” which could ruffle some feathers, but he didn’t care. He’s one of my favorites. 

Anyway, at one point he was talking about something God spoke to him when he was in the Ukraine, surrounded by the mafia. That the relationship God had with Jesus when He was a man is the kind of relationship God wants to have with us. That we are the ones who put the limitations on. He said that God isn’t doing all these amazing things (he began talking about the universe and how much more vast it is that they have discovered over the years.) just to prove to us that He’s awesome. He did it so we would want to get to know Him. So that we would see, and realize that He is HUGE and can do big things. That we would realize this relationship He wants to have with us, and in that realize this is all about people. 

It’s about God, and how good He is–yes, but it’s about people. God wants to know us. He wants to be so close with us. 

(Here’s the point of all that in relation to ballet)

I stood in rehearsal today, for my 20 second part in this ballet that I’ve worked so hard on thus far for a part I’ll probably never get to dance. 

I thought about how many people have told me how upset they are at this. 

I thought of how many people told me that I’m a good dancer, which is really nice because the casting can make me think that I didn’t get roles like my peers because I’m not good enough. But. That’s not necessarily the case. They help me see that. To not give up.

I thought of how Ms Munro complimented me at warm up yesterday and today. (Today being a warm up primarily made up of advanced girls) and I thought of how I’m still not this role in working hard for. 

And I thought of where I am and how this ballet plays into my story. And how in the world I’m gonna get through the rest of the season if it’s this hard already. 

And then one of my babies (okay she’s as tall as me, but still my baby) just hugged me. She is one of the sweetest souls I have ever met, and really she changes this whole experience for me from painful to having good memories.

I thought of the people who have encouraged me with this, most without even being provoked. 

And then we started learning our 20 second bit and my group of girls I’m usually in the same role as, but this time ended up not being (which honestly is hard. It makes me feel left out, even though I understand I am tall. And fit the costume. And it’s fine. I miss them) and they all cheered for me, like I was the greatest dancer. And it just made me feel good. 

And I realized that pastor, missionary man was right. 

This is all about people. 

It’s about being together. It’s about encouraging each other. It’s about being there for each other. It’s about the experience as a whole and getting through it together. 

The roles are nice. It’s nice to be recognized for your hard work. But. That’s not everything. 

It’s the memories were making and being in this together. 

So my phone is dying and I’m just gonna end this post there. But realize, whatever life hands you when it’s favorable or not, it’s about the people more than it’s about what you see on the surface. 

   
 
(Ms m thought there was a bug and was wondering what I was looking at. 😂)

Perspective

I had a conversation with a dear friend of mine that started with informing her of the success of the harder shanks in the pointe shoes.

And honestly, now I have a seemingly new-found perspective, as well as a figurative weight off my shoulders.

Which is silly, because I kinda knew all this before.
It just put it all back into focus for me and really made me realize something.
Mainly, that she was right.

She was right about me needing a harder shank, even when I’m told by others that having a harder shank is a cop-out for people with weak feet.
She was right about my alignment being a little funky and was able to guide me in how to correct it.
She was right about how to use teaching styles that are effective. (The proof is in the pudding.)
So many other things that all have the same connecting factor;
She was right.

So if her track record is one of being right, then I know that she’s right in what our conversation held today.
Which is more than I’m going to divulge here, but what I really take away is this:

I am my own person. I am the product of the hard work and effort I put into to my technique. I can choose to either learn from people offering to help make me a better dancer, or I can throw it all out the window. I can choose to ask questions and learn, or I can putz through in fear. I am not the studio or company I dance for. I am not any lesser or any better because of roles I do or do not get.

And no matter what things look like now, nothing is guaranteed to stay the same.
I don’t know what my life holds for me next year. I don’t know what decisions people around me are going to make that are going to affect me. I can’t count on that. I have to make decisions for myself and what is best for me. I need to keep an open mind and realize that if something isn’t working out, I have the power to change it. One way or another.

So yeah, Swan Lake sucks right now. It’s hard and it leaves me crying every weekend because there is just so much that doesn’t make sense. But there’s parts I can change and parts I can’t. And the parts I can are up to me. I can make the most of what I’ve been given and get through the best I am able. Or I can complain about the things I can’t change, sit around and pout or be bitter or not work hard because it’s “not fair.” Okay, it may not be fair. But that’s something I can’t change. I fear I’ve done all I can do, and that isn’t something I fear for myself, but for the whole.
But I am more than Swan Lake. Even if it puts an unfair amount of strain on me. Even if it leaves me completely frustrated and embarrassed. Even if it leaves me with commitments difficult to keep because of how the “cards fell.” Whatever. Gotta just deal with it and keep trucking, and evaluate things and make decisions from there.
For me.

In the mean time, I can utilize every second given to me in that studio to become a better dancer. I can be so good they can’t ignore me–not necessarily in the sense of being compared to others, but compared to myself. Think about it; if someone is a mediocre dancer in class, and all of a sudden they start caring and trying and working hard, the teacher can’t help but notice.

I want to be that.

What they do with it is up to them.

And from that, I decide what to do with my life; with my art; with my career; with my story.

And that is completely up to me.

I shouldn’t set my goals with such a narrow depth of field. I shouldn’t set them in things that are out of my control. I should set my goals and dreams in things that I can handle and things that I can logically work for. If not, I’ll just continuously get let down time and time again, and for what? It’s not that I wasn’t capable or this or that or the other. Who knows why? I sure don’t. But the point is, it’s out of my hands.
Now my goals are going to be with me in mind. They’re going to be something tangible. They’re going to be logical.

  • I want to be able to consistently do doubles. In flat shoes, and eventually in pointe shoes.
  • I want my jetes to actually, ya know, get off the ground.
  • I want to master chaines.
  • I want to learn the different names for all the placements–arms, hips,  everything.
  • I want my arabesque to be above 90 degrees when I’m not trying.
  • I want to figure out how to beat my jumps, even though jumping is bad for my knees…
  • I want to learn these new, complex moves.
  • I want to continuously improve, blowing my old records out of the water.
  • I want to leave class knowing I was the best version of myself.

I know this isn’t something I can make a career out of. I’m twenty-seven. This will be nothing more than just for the hell of it. And I should try my best. But I have to realize that there are limitations simply because I’m not in high school, or my back is jacked up, or politics, or whatever.

But I shouldn’t let that keep me from doing what I love for as long as I want to and am able to do it.

My wish is that things would improve to where injustices aren’t a thing anymore. But judging by track record, that doesn’t seem to be logical.

And I can’t let that hold me back.

Let’s try it. 

Yesterday started off not much better than the day before. My brain was fuzzy and I felt out of my depth. I know it’s the 6 class and many people say I’m more than capable, but yesterday I was feeling my 5.

There were bits I was terrified over but still tried. So that was something at least. I don’t know that I would say I was successful, but I was definitely more successful than having never tried at all.

There was a point when I panicked. And it was stupid. But I was embarrassed and just didn’t have it in me to fully wrap my brain around what was happening, what was being asked of me, and I knew I looked like a fool doing it. Thankfully, Julie is good at recognizing when to push and when to pull back and she pushed until she needed to pull back so I didn’t completely fall apart. (Although I did fall apart more than I would have liked. And felt a prime idiot more than I prefer.) (yay for comfort zones being demolished?) (or something)

After ballet was over, I went into the small studio to break in my new shoes. I waited until then to do it instead of breaking them in in class because I wanted to make sure it was done properly. These are experimental shoes, and I want to give them every bit of a real chance as I can.

They’re the same shoe, just with a harder shank. The hardest Capezio makes, actually. I had the hardest shank before, but now they’ve started making an even harder shank, so Amanda from Capezio in Austin told me about it and I figured I’d give it a shot. They came in, I sewed them that day, and waited for d-day. (So to speak)

I was nervous, so say the least. After the Gaynors bombed because of sizing, I was afraid these wouldn’t be any better and I’d just have to make my old shoes work best I knew how. Which they aren’t terrible. But it seemed something was missing.

I put them on, did a few things to help the arch so they wouldn’t snap, then I rolled up.

I’d say my biggest fear was that they’d be too hard. That I wouldn’t be able to get over my box and it would be so defeating. That I would find myself with the opposite problem of what I had before, and would have to find a way to make it work.

But that didn’t happen.

Instead, they seemed to mold to my arch, getting me over my box but not too far. Just enough to do what I need but give me room to work harder. If that makes sense? Anyway.

I went into the office and asked Ms. Munro what she thought. Sometimes people think they need hard shanks but are really just fooling themselves. I didn’t want to be that person. So she had me do typical bit of standing in first, then pushing through the instep, then straightening while trying to stay far over the box. Afterwards she said, “those look great!” And we talked about how people who have naturally higher arches need a harder shank. Which I’ve been told I have, but never really realized it I guess.

So the shoes are a go. Approved by Ms M, and feel great. I went back in the studio and worked a bit more. I did a few of the things to help me lift out of my shoe and then I decided to try a pirouette to see what would happen.

Wouldn’t you know it, it improved substantially.

I was able to hold the position a bit longer, it felt more stable, I was able to fully get around and roll through like a champ. I was on cloud nine.

So I tried an en dedan. And I got around with my leg not even to the front where it needed to be. So I fixed it and it was quite a decent turn. Still better on one side versus the other but that’s typical. I went back to regular pirouettes and the first one I tried was so solid if I would have gotten a bit more force it could have been a double. What. The. Heck. So then I tried a double and completely bombed it because I was thinking too hard so I just laughed at myself.

I worked on chaines and piques and was successful with both, though they need work. I felt like what I see other girls look like. That this must be what it feels like for them in class.

More importantly, I felt hope.

Which is something that has seemed to be in short supply recently. It gave me a bright point among all the stormy clouds that have been keeping me company. Sure things still suck, but at least I have something to help me through.

I’m grateful, for sure, and emailed Amanda from the studio letting her know she’s my hero and asking to order the next pair of magic shoes. I wish I could order more at once, but these bad boys run about $120 each. Sucks to go through them so quickly.

Oh well. It’s worth it to me.


  

A post.

I’ve toyed around with the idea of even posting this post.
Part of me feels like it’s pointless since what I really feel and want to say isn’t something I should put onto such a public platform, even though it’s something I’m very passionate about. Sometimes you just have to keep your mouth shut, sit back, and pray everything sorts itself out. Sometimes speaking only makes things worse.

Part of me want’s to say, “screw it” and say it anyway. But that probably isn’t the wisest thing in the world.

Part of me wants to stay silent. Since speaking about things like this rarely gets accurate intentions across and it can just make you look like crap or people feel bad for you or whatever. Sometimes staying silent and fading into the background is so much easier.
Sadly this seems to be a luxury I can’t afford.
I love people, I really do.
But sometimes I just don’t have enough for myself, let alone other people.
This is one of those times.

Although sometimes helping other people can bring you out of a funk like this–or at least ease a bit of it–things have gotten extreme enough to where that’s not the case so much.
(Except very rarely and for very specific people, anyway.)
(Lookin’ at you, Valerie. Thanks for being awesome. Always down to help y’all in class.)

Thankfully, I’ve somehow found myself with a few incredibly selfless people in my life that I get to call friends.They’re the real MVP’s.

So I’m writing this post, because even though yesterday seemed to go to hell in a handbasket, there were a few things I wanted to note. Because what the heck this never happens.

I did my first solid double. Not en pointe, but whatever. I was trying, but not really, and it just happened. I wasn’t thinking, that’s for sure, and that’s probably why I was able to do it. And as soon as I realized what had happened, I could hear sweet Ileana behind me, “*Gasp!* Yay Emilee!” Which meant more to me than I could ever express. Sometimes I feel so very alone in classes, and that made me realize that I have these friends among me pulling for me, cheering for me to succeed. Celebrating when I do.
The next turn, however, was ridiculous to where I even stopped and pointed at my foot and said, “What are you doing?!” before I realized that I was indeed still in the classroom and in the middle of a combination. Oh well.

The next thing was how I seem to suck at jete’s, even though I’m built to be a jumper (thanks, stupid uneven hips) but managed to somehow do one that kinda actually got off the ground. Enough to where someone else noticed it and commented. I’ve come to terms with the fact that people don’t typically watch me. I don’t think about it, I don’t really concern myself with it. But it’s nice when you aren’t sure if you did something correctly or want to know if you improved to know that you have someone to bounce stuff off. And when it mattered yesterday, people were.

Things are still weird. Life is still hard. There’s still plenty that doesn’t make sense and many, many things I wish I could fix or change or even just say. But amongst all the crap, there’s still a bright spot here and there. And it’s nice to remember them.

Photo day 

Here’s some pictures from photo day yesterday


  
  

  
  

  
  
  
  
  
  
One of the dear moms asked if the covers could take pictures just to have. Mrs Alex was gracious enough to offer her time and we were able to. It was fun to flip around and goof off with these girls. I love them. They make it fun.
I have lots of thoughts and feelings, but I don’t think it necessary to share them here. So I shall leave you with these pictures and keep truckin’.

 

Content.

Last night, I was thinking.

About tomorrow.
About what may or may not happen.
I thought about how I didn’t want to think about this.
How it makes me so anxious I end up sick.
How it’s completely out of my hands.

I prayed.
Talked to God like old friends.
My prayers are rarely, “Dear Lord, XYZ, In Jesus’ Name, Amen” Or whatever formula it typical. Instead, it’s a conversation. Being honest, telling Him how I feel about things and learning what I should be thinking and feeling and doing about it.

“God, I know it’s out of my hands. I know there’s nothing more I can do than I’ve already done. Let them see what needs to be done. Let them remember me. Let my hard work speak for itself. And whatever happens, help me to have a good attitude. I don’t want to be bitter or upset or have a crappy attitude. Help me to see the good in all this. Help me learn everything I can.”
Etc, etc.

I tend to handle things better if I think through the realities before they happen.
“Reality is, they may not change anything. Reality is, if they change something, they could pick someone else. How will I handle this? If either of these things happen, you will still be okay.”
I talk myself through these things so when push comes to shove, I don’t fall apart. I give myself pep talks and council and whatever other words you can find. Because it’s true; no matter what happens, I’ll be okay.

Then God and I had a talk about the hope I feel.
I’m terrified of it, honestly. Terrified that I’ll end up crushed again, and it’ll all be because I set myself up for it. I don’t want to have to go through any of that again.
But is hope so bad a thing? Without it, what do we have?

I thought through scriptures I knew that had the word “hope” in them.
Most also contained the word “trust” or some synonym of the word.
I realized that whatever happened, God is in control, and I can trust Him. Whether it’s in my favor or against, this is an experience to help me learn and grow. If nothing else, I’m reminded of how important it is to lean on Him in these kinds of things, and that He truly can be trusted.

I may be upset or confused or whatever, but I still have peace. Even when anxiety tries to take over, the inner peace is still there.

I caught myself singing an old hymn from my childhood church. I can’t remember the last time I thought of it, but it came back clear as a bell.

“Unto Thee, oh Lord, do I lift up my soul
Unto Thee, oh Lord, do I lift up my soul
Oh, my God, I trust in Thee
Let me not be ashamed,
Let not mine enemies triumph over me.”

I literally sang it until I fell asleep, which I can’t remember the last time I’ve done that, either. (Until I sat bolt upright and remembered I never took a polaroid that day. It’s okay, it was just past 11pm, so I got it in time 😉 )
(For those of you who don’t know, I take a polaroid every day.)

Today I decided to look up the hymn and found it had more verses.
I also found that it is based off Psalm 25.

So I looked up Psalm 25.

1 In you, Lord my God,
    I put my trust.
2 I trust in you;
    do not let me be put to shame,
    nor let my enemies triumph over me.
3 No one who hopes in you
    will ever be put to shame,
but shame will come on those
    who are treacherous without cause.

There’s that word again–hope.

Hope is safe.
It’s not something to be afraid of.
It’s not a guaranteed fall.
It’s seeing the good in the world. Acknowledging that there is a potential for something wonderful to happen. The world isn’t perfect, so there’s no way to guarantee that the something wonderful is sure. But the hope itself, it’s safe.

I won’t be put to shame.
Whatever happens, God is still good. He’s still working things out for me. He’s still teaching me and helping me be a better person.
He still has me.
And if there’s anything I could be or should be doing better, He’ll let me know.

I looked up the word “treacherous,” curious of what the intention behind the word was.

1.
characterized by faithlessness or readiness to betray trust; traitorous.
2.
deceptive, untrustworthy, or unreliable.
3.
unstable or insecure, as footing.

4.
dangerous; hazardous:
I have no reason to feel shameful if things don’t fall in my favor.
I should hold my head high and know that I am doing my best.
I’m not owed anything particular in this world. There isn’t some sure way that if you follow these steps everything will be perfect. Bad and unfair happen to good, hard-working people. It’s a part of life. It sucks, but it’s something we will get through.
But I know when I lay my head down at night that I have given my all.
And that is something I can be proud of.
If you continue on in the chapter, you find,
4 Show me your ways, Lord,
    teach me your paths.
5 Guide me in your truth and teach me,
    for you are God my Savior,
    and my hope is in you all day long.
My hope shouldn’t be in the outcome of this thing, it should be in God.
If my hope is in Him, I’ll never be put to shame.

Prove it.

It’s funny hearing people tell me how they read my blog and the varying degree of addiction it causes them. I don’t know that I’ll ever get used to it, let alone understand why people actually enjoy reading such nonsense. Nonetheless, I still write this nonsense. So I guess there’s that.

(Hi, y’all, glad to have ya!)

Before class started yesterday, I leaned over to two of my friends and said, “let’s treat this like an audition and see what happens.” If you remember my previous post, Ms. Munro made a comment that we all do so well at auditions and then slack off in class. So I’ve been running an experiment of what would happen if I took her advice.

The results have been astronomical (Imagine that!) and yesterday seemed to be the best thus far. Not only was I getting corrections, I was getting compliments. And not just ones I’ve heard before, but new ones on things I’ve been really working on. Mrs Alex said my arms were light and that I presented correctly and did the arm transitions well. I even got one by name. We were doing a combination at the barre where we did slow develope’s and ended with a tendu in fondu. (I think. Somethings like that.) it was a nice, slow, even tempo combo and felt really good to do. Everything seemed to click so I really did my best to do everything I’ve remembered being taught as well as implementing the corrections as she said them–heel forward, turn out from the hip, shoulder down, really present, straight knees, and on and on.

She happened to look at me at a develope to the back and my thigh happened to be lifted the proper was as I did the movement and she said my name when she complimented me. Then after even said my name again and that me and another girl were the ones she saw had it correct. Like. What? It felt so good, I can’t even find words for it.

I feel like I have to work really hard to prove myself. To show that I am capable and able to do what they ask of me. That I am listening to and want their direction. That I take this seriously and want to improve. That this is more than just some recreational thing. That this is something much deeper.

I was talking to one of my dance mom friends about some stuff going on and made the comment, “it’s just a dance, I shouldn’t be so upset about it.” And her reply really hit me.

“It’s not though. You spend as much time there as you do your job. And you are emotionally invested. For you it isn’t just dance.”

That brought so much peace to me. I’m so used to being told that I have to be strong. To suck it up and just get over it. To just take it. So used to it that when I find myself with these real emotions through something like this that it translates into “I must have done something wrong.” That I’m not enough. That I have to be better. That I can’t let them see me cry. And yes, I shouldn’t let it get to me enough that I get emotional in front of everyone. Dramatics are uncalled for. But I have to give myself room to be human. And it’s okay to do such.

Yesterday’s class made me feel like I am doing all I can to prove myself. That they see it. That however this cookie crumbles, I have done all I can. And that is something I can be proud of and that no one can take away from me.


(Hi. Hello. It’s me.)

Limit yourself. 

I deal with perpetual depression and anxiety. 

Now that that is out of the way. 

I woke up this morning pretty panicky. For no good reason, but I couldn’t shake it. All I wanted to do was dance, but deep down I was nervous that dance might make it worse. (Probably me jumping to worst case scenario there. Typical.) I tried to go into the class day with an open mind and giving myself room for faults. 

Ballet went fairly well. I was able to hold a few balances I usually suck at and do the fouetté prep at the barre I used to really do terribly. We got to center and I still struggled a bit with balancing but was able to see little bits of improvement here and there. Overall, it wasn’t bad. I appreciated that she gave us combinations that were easy on the brain but still challenging our bodies. I think that helped make it better. 

Jazz-but-really-lyrical class went fine. Not all the girls were there so we still haven’t changed it up to the final way we’re gonna have it yet, but the new girls that have added on are doing well. They retain the choreography, which is super great. Ms Heidi said she might pull me and either Savanna or Valerie to be another duo, or separate singles–she’s still playing with ideas–and one of them sort of play off Ileana. 

As we were standing there while she was figuring out a part for another group, my mind began to wander as it does. I was watching Ileana and wondering what I would do if I was having to sort of mirror her. 

And it hit me. 

This terrible wave of whatever you want to call it that I hadn’t felt in a good long while. 

I thought of being in the audience, watching this piece, it being she and me, and thinking, “that one girl is so good and absolutely gorgeous. Shame they paired her with the bigger girl, she’s not as good I kinda feel bad.” 

It’s a dialog I’m sure I’ve heard said of someone on a stage once somewhere. And it’s probably part of the subconscious that stuck in my head growing up and lead me to make decisions I made that lead me to stop eating until I was really thin because I was terrified I would be that person. The “bigger girl” that was seen as a terrible thing. As lesser. As not enough. 

And I realized that I would be that should Ileana and I be paired.

And I realized that there are bits in Julie’s recital piece that I am that. 

And I realized that at some point my perspective had changed from that negative way of thinking to one of what-can-I-achieve-if-I-work-hard. 

But still I found myself standing there tonight with a different kind of panic. What would I do? I can’t lose any more weight than I have. I’m doing my best to improve with the hand life dealt me. How can I not be “that girl” ?

I told myself I couldn’t think that way. Tried to push it out of my mind. 

Mere minutes later, the newest new girl and I were learning a bit we had just been shown. I didn’t really know what I was doing but was trying to decode the struggle, so to speak, and she looked at me and said, “man you’re really good. Like, you’re so talented. I know I’m new and all, but I hope I can be as good as you.” 

In my head I said, “are you blind? Like. I can’t do anything she’s asking us to do. I’m trying not to panic because I know I can’t do a firebird or a leap in second. I’ve never tried them. I’m gonna look a hot mess, and if I can’t do it how am I gonna teach you to do it? I’m terrible. I’m new to this class and much of it is way over my head. Have you seen me? I’m not exactly the dancer type.” But instead I replied with, “thank you!” 

She didn’t have to say that. She could have kept it to herself. Sure, it’s safe to say the entire class is better than me in skill, but whose to say I’m not good in my own right? She didn’t see me as the “bigger girl in the class full of skinny, good girls.” She saw me as “talented.” 

*mind blows* 

I may still struggle. 

I may feel like I don’t really do anything right. 

I may feel like I’m just a 5 year old playing a giant game of pretend and all the adults just think “aww how cute” cause it’s cute when a 5 year old makes a fool of themself.  

I may feel like I keep missing out on roles and parts and accomplishments because I must just not be good enough. 

I may feel like I don’t have enough time to get to “enough.” 

But to her, I was enough. I was the “goals.” I was talented. I was the one to be like. 
Who am I to limit myself with my own judgements?