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Memories

Just a few things I want to remember.

  • Seeing Ms. Munro watching and smiling from the wings as we danced Crows.
  • Elizabeth joking about getting caught on stage at the start of Act 2 and hiding behind Abby’s throne and popping out when we turned Abby around or being Abby’s arms from behind, etc.
  • Actually almost getting caught on stage at second act.
  • Jessica laughing at me when they started the wrong music (our music) and I instantly snapped into place in Winkie mode.
  • The uncontrolable laughter before the curtain rose because of Act 2’s pre-shenanigans.
  • Seeing Abby’s intense face while she was in character
  • As well as hearing the kids gasping from the front row.
  • Mariela coming to see us.
  • The Crows’ genuine love and support for me
  • And how they cheered and made a fuss every time I entered the room.
  • My munchkins never wanting to leave my side.
  • Butter. (the dog. Our toto)
  • Andie in a bonnet
  • Everyone calling me Mom. I love that so much. I love these girls.
  • Mrs. Jane beaming as she watched Elizabeth side-stage. “I want to be Elizabeth when I grow up.” “Me too.”
  • Seeing Elizabeth watch the other dancers side stage in her beautiful costume THAT SHE MADE WHAT THE HECK
  • Sweeeet Caroliiiiine BUH DUH DUUUUH
  • and the rest of the songs that caught on in the dressing rooms
  • having the dressing rooms next to each other and being able to spend time with everyone
  • Anytime someone said, “It’s too hot” a choir of “hot damn” being the reply.
  • The epic death of the Wicked Witch that was impromptu.
  • All of us coughing from the fog machine
  • Getting to give flowers to Abby at the end of the Beeville show (and to Elizabeth at the end of the other shows.)
  • The other Winkie’s specifically letting me give them to these two because they knew we were friends. Such kind girls.
  • Conversations with Lillian.
  • Dairy Queen.
  • Abby’s facebook messages

Yesterday was a fairy tale.

Wizard of Oz–Beeville

Occasionally, our company will take our show on the road for an extra performance in a town called Beeville; about an hour away. It doesn’t happen every year, but this year we were given the opportunity.

I found out quickly that this is met with many complaints; some logical, some unnecessary.
See, the stage is smaller. Like. Baby sized, but the seating is pretty decent. The backstage is tiny and complicated, but operable. The lights are limited. We had to adjust a bunch of things to make it work, but we definitely made it work.

And honestly, what a cool opportunity.
I had heard that the audiences here were always wonderful, and this one didn’t disappoint.
There were times when the wicked witch would come out, and you could hear gasps from the front row. It was amazing to be there and realize that you were becoming part of someone’s memory. That this isn’t just about you, but about portraying something to these people; making them feel something.
We are telling a story, inspiring dreams.
You just can’t feel that from a big auditorium.

One of the backstage helpers commented on how beautifully different this made the show. That you feel the connection with them.
They also don’t get the opportunity to have a real ballet to come all that often. There’s something about taking the show on the road that makes you feel alive and remember why you love doing what you do.

So. Beeville show. How do you even begin to explain Beeville show?
(and now I’m quoting Mean Girls in my head. anyway. :D)
I’m going to attempt my best.

It began with arriving and getting to spend time with dear friends as we watched other friends run their scenes on the stage. I really enjoyed getting to spend time with these people so dear to me.
I took a look around me and realized how amazing it is to have be here, now, with these people.

When I went back into the gym, Some of my favorite munchkins came up to me with this

It’s a drawing that Judy did of four of my munchkin babies. (Dude. Seriously. this girl has mad drawing skills.) And she had them all sign it for me 🙂 It meant so much more to me than I could ever express. I cherish these girls so much.
We did our first run through out of order, trying to work with the ones that needed the most time first. We did the Winkie Guards and the finale and got it all set. I took the typical inventory of Crows to make sure I wouldn’t have to dance it, when I realized one was missing. I asked Mrs. Alex, and she said she hadn’t seen her either. I asked the rest of the Crows and they said she had text one of the dancers saying she was either going to be late or not make the rehearsal.
We were about to do the show from beginning to end to get it all worked out before the performance at 7, so I went to ask Mrs. Julie what I should do. 
I didn’t even get to finish my sentence when she said, “You’re a crow. Any other questions?”
I can’t properly describe how elated I felt inside, but also how difficult it was to keep myself composed until I was back into the gym. 
I get to be a crow? Really? And no one is sick or hurt or anything? I get to do this, I really get to do this? 
I tried to not get my hopes up in case everything changed. It’s possible she could show up and then everything will change. But one thing is certain.
I at least get one more time.
On a stage.
With these girls.
In this dance I love so much. 
I walked back to the gym with the other girl that went with me to ask and when we got back to the locker rooms we were using as dressing rooms, all the older girls in there were asking what happened. When we told them what Mrs. Julie said, they burst out in applause and cheers. They were so happy for me! Some of these girls I only knew in passing, and they were so happy for me. I can’t even express what I felt. How was this happening to me? How was such a good thing happening to me? 
So I went back in the auditorium with my camera to watch before we went on. I didn’t want to be late since it had been a while since I danced Crows. I wanted to be ready. Adrienne helped me go over which direction this part was since I had done both and wanted to make sure I got it right. 
We ran it, and it was the first time I did the entire thing correctly! I think I got it right a couple times at the beginning when we were still running at the studio, but never this side of the role. I always switched something. I got off stage elated, then went back into the chairs where my friends were and where I had left my camera with them. 
Abby managed to get some great pictures of us, even with the rough lighting. Here’s a favorite
I think there was a better one. But it’s hard to see on the little clip. Anyway. It’s what I call “the fish.” hahaha.
I got to talking with Abaranne (sp?) and by this time, the knowledge of me dancing Crows had gotten out. I talked to her about how I’m so used to being overlooked and how everywhere else if you were a good understudy you always stayed as an understudy. I was never the cool kid or the popular kid or the kid everyone thought of first for things, unless they needed something. I was always just the nice kid. She told me how here, they see your dedication and remember it. That hard workers don’t go unnoticed. She and many, many others had told me how they loved watching me do Crows. That I brought so much to the part and did it really well. I told Alyssa how it was such an honor to just be considered among them, let alone have multiple people–and not all of them do I know well–telling me that I look good dancing this part and that I keep up with the rest of the girls who have been dancing years more than me. To hear from these very girls that they liked having me in the dance and seeing how proud they were of me. I would walk into the room to ask a question or something, and they would erupt into, “Hey Croooow! Woohoo! Look at that Crow! Get it girl!” and a million other things. I felt like a queen. Like I mattered. Like I had value. I can’t get over this!
When we were doing Winkie Guards, I caught wind that the girl I was filling in for showed up. I tried not to worry about it, but I really wanted to dance this role. I actually didn’t hear of anyone who didn’t want me to. So after we finished, there was 30 minutes until a meet and greet with some VIP’s and I wanted to know which costume to put on. I asked Mrs Munro first because Julie looked a bit worn and she said, “I think whoever blocked it on this stage is who should dance it. Tell Julie I said that!” So Andie and I went to ask since this person affected 3 different roles. The other two were shared, but it was impossible for the girl who shared them to do both since they were in the same scene. They taught the character role to Andie so if worse came to worse we would have it worked out.
(Oh my gosh I’m so sore. Okay, anyway.)
Mrs. Julie first said the girl would dance the original roles, then Ms. Munro piped up and mentioned how complicated that would be since she wasn’t there to rework it on such a small stage. Julie told us to tell the girl that she would do Miliner, and Melanie would do Emerald and I would do Crow, but Andie spoke up and said it would probably be better coming from her, so she told us to get her and Melanie and bring them back to the stage. So we all were on the stage and Mrs. Julie told us and I tried to just keep my mouth shut and be respectful because I’m sure this would be painful for the girl now not getting to dance. I didn’t feel bad to be taking the role that was hers, because it’s not my fault. I’m just doing what I was cast to do and that’s to fill in when needed. She wasn’t there. I felt bad for her, but I didn’t feel guilty. 
I waited a little as she walked out ahead of us, as I’m sure she was upset and everyone knew I would love to jump into Crows given the chance. so I walked back to the dressing room and was so grateful that I left my nude colored tights in my dance bag since I had considered leaving them since chances were slim I would need them. And I was so glad my character shoe purchase was warranted. 
AND I WAS SO EXCITED TO BE A CROW.
I ran into Mrs. Jane, the costumer, and told her, “Mrs. Jane! I get to be a Crow! The costume has a purpose!” and she hugged me so tight and was so excited for me. Genuinely excited. I felt so good.
I went to get my costume and shoes and tights and everything on for the meet and greet when my friend Lillian came in and told me the girl had left so it was going to be how we had rehearsed it. (This means Andie would need my shoes.) I got dressed and went to ask the girls if I was missing anything and they all began hoopin’ and hollerin’ and making a fuss over me and it made me feel so good. Even the non-Crows. I felt so good. They were all so proud of and excited for me. 
It’s really nice to do something and succeed for yourself, but to have such a support system like this is unlike anything I’ve ever known. It really means more when you have people who love you to share it with.
We went out to the meet and greet and I’m in my Crows costume and so excited. Cloud 9. So excited that my introvertedness didn’t even phase me. When time was up, we went back into the gym and dressing rooms. I got to tell my Winkie Guards that I was getting to dance Crows and they were so excited for me as well. Especially the Mom’s. They knew what this really meant to me. 
We took some fun pictures before the show started with a bunch of different ones I love. 

Okay, so some of these were after this next part. But whatever, I got excited okay?
Mrs. Julie, Mrs. Alex, and Ms. Munro gathered all the cast together in the gym. (Well, all the cast in the gym.) Mrs. Julie said that there were a few dancers that went above and beyond in different areas that they wanted to recognize. 
First up, Alexis and Whitney
These munchkins worked so hard and really stood out. They lead their lines and danced with such passion, it was inspiring. I was so proud of my babies.
Next up was Hannah Hooper

Hannah is a complete rockstar. Not only is it a joy to watch her dance, but she is completely dedicated. She was at every rehearsal and filled in when a Quadling was missing and even got to dance the Quadlings at Beeville. I was so proud of her and so happy that she was able to dance it on stage at least once. She’s the youngest of the Quadlings, being two entire levels below most of them, but she really held her own. You wouldn’t know that she wasn’t right up there with the others. And you never see her without a smile. What a joy 🙂 I was so proud.
Next, they said my name.
Since I had my camera, I took this. Everyone laughed 🙂

This was my view. 🙂 
The entire gym literally erupted in applause and cheers when she said my name. They weren’t even smiling because I was taking a picture, just because they were so happy for me. I got the “Impact Award” and it says, “Given to a dancer who is influential in creating a positive work environment and being an inspiration to others.” It took everything in me not to cry. I have never felt so loved in my entire life. I’ve always wanted to feel that way, and hoped that maybe one day I would, but I never expected this and honestly, I couldn’t have asked for a better group. These people support me and love me and value me. They see me and like what they see. They don’t just see what I can do for them or how they can use me, but rather they see potential in me. They help me cultivate it and maximize it. I have no words to express how truly grateful I am to this beautiful group of people. I love them with every fiber of my being and they each hold such a special place in my heart. I’m nothing without them.

Next they called out sweet Monkey, Olivia

We were the two that weren’t allowed to answer questions during corrections. She got the most improved award and I couldn’t be more proud of her. She really dedicated herself to this role and did her best every rehearsal.

 Next they called out two of the munchkin boys. this one for the smile award for being such a joy, and the other for being such a huge help in keeping the boys in line. He was sick and couldn’t be there, which was sad. But I was so glad to see all these kids get recognized for working so hard.

Some of the Mom’s and some of my friends got great pictures while I was up there, but my phone hasn’t backed up yet so I can’t access them. I’ll include them on a master picture post whenever they do.
What an honor. How blessed am I to be in such a wonderful place with such beautiful people who love and support me. And getting to do what I love so much, and getting to be myself as I pursue this crazy dream of mine. And meeting such marvelous people along the way to do life with. gaaaaaah, I’m so happy!!
Well while I was on cloud nine and taking the silly pictures with the girls, I turn to my left and see a sight that actually brought me to tears.

Mariela came! 
I couldn’t help it, I cried. I’ve missed her so much and it was so good to see her alive and well. And what a surprise! I was really wishing she was there, especially with all the wonderful things happening. It didn’t feel right without her. Then she was there and I was just so happy to see her and she brought roses for all the poppies and emeralds and me. My heart was so full. The munchkins were fanning my face to keep me from crying, it was cute. My heart was so happy. I can’t express how good it was to see her. 
I got to tell Elizabeth that Mari was there and about the award. She was so excited to know Mari was there and doing well and was so proud of me for everything I had accomplished. It really meant a lot. 

These two really have a special place in my heart. One I can’t find the words to describe. They have accepted me and been so very supportive of me in a way most can’t be. They didn’t see me as my level, but as an adult who was passionate about the same thing they are. They have celebrated every victory and been encouraging every step of the way. Having them in these memories is one of my favorite things, on and off the stage. I’m seriously brought to tears by their kindness simply in being who they are. 
It was so cool to have Elizabeth so genuinely excited when I told her that I got to dance Crows, and how excited she was after watching me. And to have her so thrilled for and proud of me when I told her about the awards. 
It was beyond okay hold on crying and I can’t find words  anything I could have ever hoped to have Abby so supportive every step of the way in this dance. From the first rehearsal, and even before, she made me love being a Winkie Guard and even more getting to dance along side her. She made me feel so valued in ways I could never thank her enough. She encouraged me and lifted me up and told me wonderful things she would hear being said about me which hands down has to be one of the greatest feelings in the world. Even just tonight she messaged me before going to bed and asking me about the awards and how she wished they could have been there for it and how I was so deserving and all these things that mean so much more to me than I could ever express. Who am I, ya know? I’m just this simple person who no one seems to notice and these people see me. She said that she and Elizabeth were beaming the whole way home that I got to be a Crow. Like, seriously, how nice is that! Even after the show, they were still so supportive. They care so much about me and I can’t express how much that means.
I started to feel pretty light headed toward the end of the show, but I just tried to breathe deeply and keep my head level. My monkey was overheating half way through so I tried to help her keep calm. She didn’t want to quit, though. Not even the bows which she could have sat out of if she wasn’t feeling up to it. I was so proud of her for sticking it out. Not to mention how well she did! That’s my girl right there.
The whole way home with Lillian we just talked and sometimes just made sounds when I couldn’t find words about how exciting this day was. How wonderful is it that we even have this opportunity? We get to be a part of a ballet company even as adult beginners and with such wonderful people we literally couldn’t ask for better. I was extremely happy that she was able to be a part of the show, especially since we didn’t think it would be possible after she broke her foot. We didn’t think it would heal in time. But she was there and it wouldn’t have been the same without her. It was the icing on the top to get to spend the drive back gushing with her over this wonderful thing called ballet. I couldn’t have asked for better. Lillian is a gem, and when my phone decides to download the pictures, there will be the fabulous one of us as well 🙂
Mrs. Julie is a rockstar and a true treasure. She is a genius in putting this show together and how she handled everyone and everything. A true inspiration. I’m honored to have been able to be a part of this show and under her direction, let alone to now call her my friend. She is a quality person; a diamond. 
I’m still on cloud nine and it’s almost 2am.
I should sleep.
The real world begins again when the sun rises.
Until then, I’ll revel in my one last dreamy night of perfection, squeezing out every ounce I can get of this perfect day.

Conviction

Yesterday I figured out the source of what caused the weirdness this week, causing me to go into class in a sort of state of determination.
I have this one life, I have this day, and I could be dead in the ground but I’m not. I’m here, at this studio, with these people I love doing what I love. This could all change in a heartbeat. But it’s here. It’s mine. I have today.

We ran our recital piece and I really tried to focus on giving it my all and implementing the corrections I had been given before. I straightened that leg, I let my head follow my arms, I took deeper plies, I made sure I was croise and not flat, etc etc. And I felt this difference, this shift almost. I felt like the dancers I look up to look to me. It felt light and magical. I don’t know how to explain it.
I felt more alive than I have in a long time.

Our piece consists of four groups that are four different colors. We decided to run it group by group and watch each other. I loved this idea and it was a great way to make sure everyone knows their cues without watching everyone else. (One in my group was one of the worst culprits of this…)
My group went first since we’re the tallest, and we went down the line from there.
It was really neat to see it all separate. I’m in the dance, and I see it from my perspective, but you don’t really realize how different the dance is for each person. Their cues and timing are completely different from mine. Their combinations are different. It’s four different dances coming together and complimenting each other. It’s beautiful.

As the group after us went, I found myself unable to take my eyes off of one of the dancers. I tried looking at all of them since they are all my friends, but the front girl captivated my attention.
The most advanced dancer in our class is in our group, and next to this other girl, and when I took a step back to compare the two next to each other, she was giving her a run for her money.
But looking at her, you may not think it. She has this gentle temperament and is so kind that you may not expect this out of her. But once you watch her, there is no mistaking.
Every ounce of her being was invested into this dance. She danced with such passion and conviction that I was brought to tears within the first 10 seconds. (And literally all they do is run in and pose in an arabesque)
She has that quality that sets dancers apart. That little bit that takes it from a pretty dance to a beautiful masterpiece. And to watch these girls as they did their part that was opposite of ours, I could see how they danced for the betterment of the entire group rather than just theirs. They danced for the beauty of the piece as a whole, not to stand out and be impressive. Their quiet, gentle beauty spoke volumes and their dancing left me feeling something.

I was at a loss for words.

When it was all said and done, we went into the bigger studio to run the piece a few times. Since this girl leads her line, and I’m the last in ours, we were next to each other. I whispered to her how she brought me to tears and is such a beautiful dancer. She was shocked, like she never expected to evoke such emotions in a person. She’s just going about her day doing what’s normal for her in the dance class and it’s enough to make me have to choke back tears.
You can see that she will go far.
She holds so much potential.
Matched with her beautiful soul, I personally can’t wait to see where all she goes from here.

It’s an honor to get to dance alongside her and watch her grow into the dancer she will become.

Wizard of Oz

I’m just now realizing that I haven’t written about this weekends shows at all.

So much has happened and there is much to say, but I fear I won’t have the words to get out all I want to.

Saturday started in a bit of a tizzy. One of the hardest working dancers in the entire company ended up having to have emergency surgery to have her appendix out the morning of the first show. As soon as I found out I actually cried; she was one of the few to be there every single rehearsal and is so very competent and just so talented. Not to mention that she is such a joy to watch. It shattered my heart to know that she had to miss out on the very thing she has worked all these months for, just hours before showtime.

The Poppies and the Emeralds had to have an emergency rehearsal to show the Poppy the dance and the two Emeralds that would be trading it their part.

The show went well enough. One of the Winkies ended up pretty frazzled from the first act all the way until curtain. So much so that she was going to get to be one of five to get to give flowers to the principals, but she was freaking out too much. I ended up getting to do it, which was really special for me because I got to give them to Glinda, who is played by one of my friends. The Winkie they originally told to do it asked to switch because she knew it would be special for me. Such a big heart for such a small girl. I am beyond grateful.

The Winkie Guard mom was unavailable, so they asked me to fill in. Before that, I was running around getting everyone to sign the letters O and Z in both red and green to give to Mrs. Julie and Ms. Munro (which I forgot to get pictures of) as well as my incorrect-sized shirt. Apparently one of the mom’s in charge was panicking because she couldn’t find me to ask me to help out with this, but we found each other in good time and it was okay. The girls are great. They call me Mom which is hilarious, but also rather convenient. I did the make-up for one of the girls whose Mom couldn’t be there (she’s eleven) to help her out. Apparently she only trusted me to do it. She’s one of the quieter ones (well, in front of people. Not if you really know her) so this made me feel awesome. Hehe.

As a whole, the show went really well. The girls did great and went over the parts we had gotten the most corrections on.
All the Crows were there, so I didn’t dance it, but people thought I did. Including my Mom. She was convinced it was me. It made me laugh.

Today’s show was even better.
Before we went on, Mrs. Julie came up to watch the Poppies from this door in our dressing room that lead to the lights up above the audience. She wanted to watch from the balcony, but they had locked the doors so she came up here instead. She let me stand on the little ledge with her and get pictures, which was really amazing. Such a great opportunity. Such an interesting perspective of the stage

The pictures came out amazing. My heart was exploding to know I had these to give to the girls, especially since I don’t typically get to watch poppies and that I didn’t get to shoot as much this show since Winkie Guards was on stage so much. Plus, Annika was rocking it and the poor girl was in so much pain. You would have never guessed it. 
I was giving Ms. Munro her signed letters in the costume room and lacing up my boots when Mrs. Jane came over and hugged me. I seriously could never express how wonderful she is and what she has done for me simply by being the sweet lady she is. I cry thinking of it. So simple, yet so profound. By that point, Ms. Munro had gone backstage, and came rushing back in saying, “Emilee, they’re waiting for you on stage! Grab your bow!”
Oh shoot, yeah, dancing, I should do that!
I run in, grab my bow, and get my keester on stage when everyone lets out a collective, “there you are!” and I hear my friend Abby (the Wicked Witch) whisper from her caped throne, “Don’t you scare me like that again!!” I couldn’t help but giggle. 
I love this place. I love these people. How wonderful to be getting to spend my days doing the thing I love the most with people who like having me there. My heart was so full.
Music begins.
Curtain comes up.
“Look mad, Emilee. Stop looking so happy!” which made me laugh inside. 
The girls did everything the best we’ve ever done. To say I was proud is an understatement. There was even a point when they were a little early on a bit, but they realized it and got back in time to the music and it took everything in me to keep my face fierce. But we did the whole show and it seemed to be done in a blink. As the finale was finishing with the emeralds and characters, I whispered to the Winkie Guards on my side, “Just take it in. This moment will never happen again. We’ll never have this sight again.” They asked what I meant and I said, “We will never have these roles in this show with these people ever again. Just take it in. It’s a beautiful sight.”
Apparently they took what I said to heart, because one of them quoted it later. 
I love these girls.
A bunch of my friends came to the shows, including about half my old studio, (old teacher included!) my mom and sister, my best friend, co worker, and a couple old friends. It was wonderful. 
Lucy and I went to get pizza afterwards which was probably the best decision of the entire night. She’s gonna try and go by and see Mari tomorrow and see how she’s doing. 
One of my favorite things of the whole show was the second dress rehearsal when we were all watching from the audience when suddenly our music starts playing and you see all the Winkie Guards and Monkeys rushing to the stage. Our bows got tangled so I was a little late on stage but you couldn’t tell cause the lights weren’t up yet. It was hysterical. 
Overall, this show has been one of my favorite things I have done in my entire life. 
To be surrounded by people who actually love me for who I am, not just for what I can do for them or the convenience of me being there, but because they value me as a person–just as I am–I’m not used to that, and it’s something I would love to get used to. I found myself crying at the thought of it. Each person touches my heart in ways I can’t find words for. It sustains me when things get really difficult and life gets stressful and crushes my spirit. I can “find my happy place” which will be the memories of these days.
These are the best days of my life.
(And now, some pictures. I will never take enough.)
some of my “babies”

Annika, with a pinched nerve, still flawless

Poppies

Closing of the First Act

The Wicked Witch is wicked

Andie and I 🙂

The Wizard.

He worked at my high school. I want to be like him when I grow up

My monkey! I love her

Annika 🙂

And Lillian!

The characters!

Sweet Judy and Butter, who was our fabulous Toto

The principal ladies with Julie

Julie and I

Instep!

Kristin and Jess!

“Everybody huddle up!”

Elizabeth and I

Abby, Elizabeth and I.

“The only copy of the picture I took is forever in my memory.”

Instep por vida!

Sarah and Liz, my #1 fans

Sweet Muneca

COUSIN

My mom and sister

Triggers.

“Stop whining.”

If you want to know the fastest way to break my spirit, get me to shut up, and subsequently not speak but rather hide inside myself for days all it takes is those two little words.

We got to work on our recital piece in the class today, even though we typically only run it on Thursday’s. Ms. Lori was really cleaning us up and giving us detailed corrections. There was a point when she told me to straighten my back leg. It’s really difficult to straighten my back leg on that part: it’s really fast for us, being the last group and the first for the next part, which makes my bad knee hurt if I’m not too careful and also limits how much I can plie which causes me trouble in the straightening of the other knee because it throws off my balance which apparently, in turn, causes my back leg to bend. I tried to tell this to Ms. Lori, and her response was, “Stop whining” cutting me off before I could finish. Once I got my breath back, I tried again to explain what it is with my knee, but I was already shaken. It literally only takes the moment for the words to leave the persons mouth and hit my ears, and I am wounded. I hate this fact about me, but there it is.
So I shut my mouth, did the best I could without killing my knee or something else in how quick it is, and just went with it. The next time we ran it, Ms. Munro was watching. While Ms. Lori was getting the music right, I tried the move a few times on my own to try and get the fluidity to straighten my back leg at the speed required. I should be able to do this, right? Stop whining, Emilee. Just shut up and do it. You’re pathetic. The oldest one here, and making excuses. You’ll never go anywhere with that attitude. You’re hopless. Stop whining.
Ileana is a gem and watched me, letting me know if my leg was straight or not just because she is made of pure sugar, which helped me be a little more confident. I tried it one more time and felt really great about the pique turn that follows the move my knee wasn’t straight in, noticing I was better onto my box and far more stable than usual. Ileana applauded. I got this.

We ran it for Ms. Munro, and it got to that part. My knee didn’t hurt too badly, and I did my absolute best to straighten my knee. But when it came to the pique turn, I hit the girl next to me as we turned.
Completely forgetting that this was the reason why my pique turns were rough in this part, (she would get on to us about being together. It was either hit summer or hit the barre on the wall, both of which I have done numerous times) I said, “I hit Summer!” and Ms. Lori snapped back, “No whining!”

It took everything in me to hold it together. I didn’t have time to fall apart. I couldn’t afford it. Ms. Munro is watching and I want so desperately to be good enough and show improvement and that I will work hard. Being told that I’m whining is the opposite of that. No one wants that on their team. No one wants to work with that. I had to literally shut out all of the thoughts in my head, because all they would do is cause me to break down, and I’ve managed to never do that at this studio and I’d like to keep that record.
Numb your mind, keep dancing.

At the end of class, I brought it up to Ms. Lori casually. I told her why I had spoken and what I had realized in why that part was rough. My pique turns were lacking because when I do them confidently I hit Summer or run into the barre, and if I run into the barre I can’t get to the next part and it’s really awkward. Not to mention painful. She said she didn’t meant to snap at me, she’s just on high stress level with theatre week for Oz and recital coming up, not to mention she’s also trying to fight off being sick. I told her I understood and that I know her intention is to just make us our best, not to be hurtful.

Now, it has come up that Ms. Lori teaches privates. I didn’t know this, and felt kind of left out that I hadn’t been informed, but that’s dumb because I could always ask and no one has to tell me. Most of it was still just the sting of the “whining” comment, so I tried to just let it roll off my shoulders. But I want to do privates with Ms. Lori. I would have done these a long time ago had I known they were an option (and if I can afford it.) One of the girls had one after class and I couldn’t help but be envious of the opportunity she had to improve. That she has parents that are able to pay for her classes and also support her in what she aspires to do. I didn’t have that with ballet like this. I just want to dance better.
(especially with Swan Lake being next year’s spring show. I want to be able to hold up and I know right now I’m not there.)

I got in my car and left the studio, turned on Taylor Swift to try and shake the sting, but instead proceeded to cry. Like a kid who was just yelled at by someone they look up to when they weren’t expecting it oh wait, that’s kinda what it is or a dog that’s been kicked.
Could I really take a private lesson with Ms. Lori? Half of my struggle with pointe is the fear that I’ll hurt myself. Could I handle her if this is her mindset towards me?
But I want to improve, right?
Right.
And I can handle Andie helping me. What makes this any different?
Maybe the insane vulnerability and realizing no one here really knows me or knows why I function the way I do.
But do they need to? Or is it just another excuse, a crutch that just holds me back from my best potential?
Am I nothing more than a whiner?

What am I afraid of?
Rolling my ankle like I did last September when I just went for it.
Or when my left foot isn’t stable no matter how hard I seem to try or how confident I try to be about it.
Falling like I did trying to roll up in a develope
Not being able to roll up at all and falling on my face or rolling my ankle like, ya know, has happened.
Doing something that makes my knee feel like knives are trying to poke out from the inside. (like, ya know, when I did that plie that caused my back knee to bend.)
Doing something to hurt my back. Again.
Not to mention how accident prone I am. Something bad happens so much that I’m beginning to believe I’m just making some of them up because there’s no way this many low-key tragedies can happen to one person. I must just be dramatic, right? Until someone connects it all and is shocked. Guess I’m not dramatic…

But if I’m not aware of where I falter, I’ll never get better.

I try to keep myself open to correction. I value constructive criticism.
But for me there’s a certain way to go about it, or moreso one way not to.

When I was a kid, my family hounded me for whining.
It made me so upset, because I didn’t think I was whining. I thought I was just expressing how I felt about something and trying to get them to understand where I was coming from, potentially leading to a solution.
Apparently I failed at that, because they would shut me down by telling me to stop whining or doing the precious little “I’m a whiner” jingle they made up and taunted me with.
It crushed me.
It’s a deep gash that I try and ignore and can typically avoid in life, but when it comes up, it leaves me crying like a 6-year-old like, oh, ya know, 82% of the time I’ve been typing this.

It makes me feel like such a failure. Like my efforts aren’t enough. Like I just have to never let myself try and understand why I’m doing one thing and how to be able to do another, but instead to just do as I’m told and hope it works out okay.
Do you know how daunting that is? How hopeless that makes me feel?
It takes out the very fire that burns in me, begging me to dance.
It silences my passion.

Now, I don’t blame Ms. Lori. How was she to know that two simple words would trigger such intense reactions in me? How is she to know that this would cause a domino effect of fear in me, throwing up a wall toward the things I’m most terrified to attempt but know I have to break through in able to go anywhere. It makes me terrified to take the risk I know my dancing depends on. Something that should be so simple. I feel like it takes the progress I’ve made and shoves it backwards 30 feet, leaving me reeling and having to make up the lost ground all over again, by myself, while trying to convince myself that these rather convincing voices in my head aren’t right in what they’re telling me, even though they’ve been put there my whole life by people who are supposed to build me up.

Can you blame me for being hurt by it, though? When my entire life I’ve been shot down with these words? Being told that my concerns weren’t valid, even when I knew I was right, because I expressed them in a way appropriate for someone the age I was?

I can sort of see how it came across as whining to Ms. Lori tonight; maybe more of an excuse. But my intentions of vocalizing my fears were to express what I thought was causing it and opening myself up to ways to correct it.
I made myself vulnerable, and was shot.

(unintentionally. I in no way blame Ms. Lori.)

So I’m going to let myself cry, try not to overthink any of this or let myself sink into the black hole of my past, and move past this. And then I’ll message Ms. Lori about private classes.

Like Taylor Swift told me on my way home, you gotta shake it off.

Last rehearsal before theatre week!

Yesterday was our last rehearsal in the downtown studio. The rest of them will officially be in the theatre and it doesn’t feel like this is even possible that by this time next week, Wizard of Oz will be a memory.

I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

(I am ready to be able to go to bed and not have the super buzzing-bee-cartoon-character-type music in my head all night, though, so there’s that.) (ps. that’s what the Winkie Guard Solo scene music sounds like.)

(anyway.)

We were supposed to run it twice, but were only able to run it full-through once.
I got to do the Crows one last time, as one of the girls who is usually there wasn’t. I’m not sure where she was, but the poor girl has been sick for a while and dancing through it so maybe that’s it. I just hope she’s feeling better, poor girl has been working her butt off for this show. Of all the girls I’d have to jump in for, she and one other would break my heart.

Before and after Crows I ran the first scene with the girls in hopes that we would be able to show Julie that we mean business and are working hard. They were really showing some great improvement and I was proud of them. I think the hardest part during these studio rehearsals is their struggle with distraction. There are so many people and movement and things going on that if you aren’t completely focused, you’re bound to mess up. It’s even happened to me. The front people can’t afford this.
Sadly, one of the front girls messed up so they both got switched in the scene. It was a tough lesson to learn, but it happened anyway. The girls that got moved forward will do the part well. They know it through and through and I think the bout of necessary confidence will be great for them.
Most everything else seemed to show great improvement.

During corrections, we got chewed because a lot of the girls weren’t paying attention. (not all, but enough.)
It’s no wonder those are the ones that don’t know what’s going on most of the time. It takes a toll on everyone.
It’s exhausting to have to be the one to hold up the group, and I wouldn’t be able to without the couple other girls that are very aware of what is going on. Knowing I can bounce things off them and we can come to a conclusion is what keeps this scene afloat. If they would just do confidently what they know, they would shine. But I understand it’s hard at that age, especially with so many people watching and it being such a risk.

I sent a few of the pictures to the company principals when I got home (even though I’m kinda not supposed to?) and got to talking with my friend Abby.
She said this:

I told her how there are times I just want to shake some of the girls and scream “SHE JUST SAID WHAT YOU’RE ASKING ME LITERALLY TEN SECONDS AGO PAY ATTENTION.” But that’s not allowed. I then mentioned how nice it was to hear it, too, because before when I was involved in dance or theatre, to do what I’m doing here was a guaranteed way to get yourself stuck as an understudy. Instead of seeing all your hard work and taking it into consideration that you’d be a good person to rely on and cast in the role in the first place, they saw you as a solid back up to have for if the leads flaked like they were prone to. (yet they always seemed to pull it together for the show. All glory, no work ethic.) It’s really nice to know that working hard to make sure things still run smoothly in case something happens isn’t going to get me permanently benched, but instead will help me in the long run.
She then said:

And this is when I melted into a puddle.
For the first time in a really, really long time I actually feel like I belong somewhere. That who I am is enough just as I am. That I’m not a failure or lacking or a disappointment, but instead a valuable asset. That hard work isn’t being ignored.
(Ps. I have really great friends that are there for me when I need it and quick to celebrate me when things go well. To have such people there for the highs as well as the lows is something I cherish. You people make the world go round.)

Understudy.

When I did theater in High School, I tended to get understudy roles.
Such is the curse of responsible students, and ones who won’t complain until you give them a part.
(and it probably didn’t help that I was insecure and didn’t speak up. How times have changed.)

Point is, I learned so many valuable lessons being the understudy, and here we are ten years later putting them to extreme use.

The understudy is one of the biggest responsibilities.
You have to learn the part you cover, plus be aware of all the other parts. You have to be capable of jumping in on a moments notice, possibly without ever actually doing the role any more than just on the sidelines or by yourself. And all this work could still lead to you not getting to do the role on stage. And you have to be okay with it.
That’s probably the hard part; working your tail off, showing up to every rehearsal, filling in and never getting the fulfillment of actually performing it on that stage.

But all is not lost.

Show up; early even. Be there.
Focus hard, learn every in and out of that part. Leave no stone unturned.
Remain aware. Ask questions if you need to. Keep yourself prepared. Keep the role familiar and fresh in your mind. Run it in your head. Mark it and think it through. Work hard.

Because even if you don’t get to dance the role on the stage during the performance, those couple minutes on that stage isn’t the tell all.

Today in rehearsal, three girls were out of the role I cover for auditions with their new High School. It worked out slick cause it was the girl I typically cover, and the other two that were missing were a pair, so the dance didn’t look awkward. I strapped on my character shoes and danced it like it were my last time to dance it because, chances are, it was.
I was hoping they would be gone and I would get to do it in costume the second run through, but they showed up.
I got complimented on the way I do the role, which makes me feel really good inside. Not because I think I’m better than anyone, because I know I’m really not. But because it means I’m doing my job.
Yeah, it sucks that I put in all this work–more than some of the cast roles in some cases–but that’s my part. I’m the cover; the understudy. I’m not entitled to the role. I’m just doing my job. Covering is my part.
For people to tell me that I do the role well, and that they enjoy watching me, really just puts my nerves at ease. I’m twice the age of some of these girls, ten years older than others, and I haven’t even been dancing half the amount of years they have. Yet I get to dance along side them. I get to be included.
To know that they like it means that I have succeeded, and at the beginning of this, I wasn’t so sure that I would. I was very nervous. But I rose. The impossible became possible.

My back started hurting after the second half, but it’s feeling better than is usual, especially for the amount of dancing we’re doing. What kicked me in the butt today was the IBS. Earlier this week I got really stressed out at work, and when that happens it effects my digestion. I’ll spare you the gory details, but lets just say it greatly effected how much I can use my core. Which is, ya know, important to ballet. There were times I felt like I was going to have to run to the bathroom, or throw up, or when costumes were on I was a bit concerned I might pass out. I couldn’t even finish my lunch, my stomach hurt so badly. The way I felt today is probably the most extreme side effects I’ve had since being diagnosed. Holding it all together proved difficult, but I just tried to breathe. Hyper focusing on something else helped take my mind off of it, which helped me plow through. The still moments were the most difficult.
When we got to the second run-through, Mrs. Julie told us the changes to how the school show was going to go since it mostly effected the Winkie Guards role. (any other it effected were just dropped, not changed.) We ran a bit of it just to mark and iron out before putting on our costumes and doing the whole thing. The moment is blurry now (my brain is mush) as to when Mrs. Julie actually came up to me, but she did, and she said, “Emerson had to leave. Do you know her solo?” to which I said, “yes” she said, “can you do it?” and I said, “yes” and then she said, “Okay, lets mark it.” and we did a couple times to make sure I had the arms and the positioning right. She threw in a “make it big” to get the expression how she wants it and I ran it a couple times then went to put on my costume.

I was nervous beyond all reason. The feet weren’t fluid to me, and I really didn’t want to mess it up. I had never actually ran it before, but this wasn’t the time to be nervous. This was the time to show that I can do this. That you can throw me into a role and I’ll be able to step up. This was the time to trust my training and just go for it.
When it came down to it, I had the timing off a little, which made me not have my feet right, but I had the direction right, and fixed it the first second I had a chance.
No one really noticed. They mostly commented on how well I did the character, which is what matters during shows like this that tell a story.
As soon as it was over and I went to grab my bow (our prop) and join in with the other girls, I knew my little flub would not be what was remembered. Since I was filling in for Emerson, the girls didn’t have anyone to watch for the timing of the part that we begin as soon as Emerson is finished and walking off into the wings before she joins us. It was a complete mess, and I just kind of laughed inside.
No one would remember my flub.
Sure enough, when it came time for corrections, that was what got the heat. They can’t rely on me so much, but have to know it for themselves. I don’t know what else they can say to get it through their heads, but they really need to take ownership and pay attention to know what’s going on instead of relying on me all the time. It’s really exhausting.
(now, this isn’t to say no one pays attention. There are those that do, and they are the ones that I know I can ask questions to if I’m a little unsure as to what’s next, or to come and get me from the other side of the stage if I’m not in the right place because I’m mixing up my scenes. Some of the girls have a great handle on things, but rely on the extra added security, because honestly, who wouldn’t? But they have to know how to function without it. I think it was a good eye opener. Those few girls are really good, and they got complimented today in ways that show their hard work. I was proud.)
Some of the more advanced girls complimented me on the solo. One even gave me a glance when the other guards got chewed. It made me feel good to know that my hard work is churning out results. Now I know that I’m not the best dancer out there. I know I have much to improve on. But all those compliments really mean so much to me. Not to fuel my ego, but to feel like I’ve finally come full circle.
Before, I would work so hard, and still be ignored. Like my best was never enough. This seems to be a reoccurring theme in my life and it is pretty draining. It can sap the life right out of you.
But to be here, and to know that I can work hard, and put forth all this effort, and do my best every day and that it isn’t unseen, it makes every bit of it so worth it.
Because really, every rehearsal is an audition. These directors and teachers glean things about you from it. They form up a running log of what you’re capable of, how you respond, if you’re responsible, how you handle pressure or malfunctions, how you communicate, you work ethic, and they put all these things into consideration in future shows.
I know some politics goes into roles occasionally, it’s inevitable, but I have a full heart knowing that I have done everything I can and that it’s enough. That if I don’t get a full role, it’s not because of anything I did. That they will utilize me where they see I fit and know that I am capable of good things. I know that they know they can put their trust in me, and breathe easy knowing I’ll do what I’m asked and what’s required of me.

Even though I don’t get to dance Crows for any of the shows, and even though Emerson will be back in her solo tomorrow (she rocks it, by the way.) this wasn’t all for nothing.
If anything, I really love being the cover. Being the one that can let the director breathe easier knowing I’m there in case anything happens. Especially on a show like this.

I have done my job.

Before rehearsal. 

After rehearsal.
We’re dead inside.

Annika hacking my phone 😀

Apparently it rained? That’s usually a field…

And this is when I realized I forgot my rainboots at the studio.

Why do you dance?

There’s this ongoing inner “struggle” of sorts over the gap between my skill level and my age.

For the most part, everything is okay.
But there are times when I just wish that I was better. That I had began earlier. That I could have been dancing all these years instead of just the past 3.5ish.
It can get overwhelming. Sometimes it feels pointless. Not that dancing for me isn’t good, but that I don’t add anything to the company. That I’m just the awkward adult that thankfully looks like she’s in high school so it’s not too weird putting her with younger kids.

It’s disheartening to have these dreams of progressing through the years, just to have my body mess up because I’m older, or to realize that things could happen and I don’t know how long I’ll dance.
What if I get married and can’t? What if I have a kid? What if I move? What if I break something? What if I throw out my back and mess it up for good?
Sure, all these things could happen and I could still be able to dance. But bad things seem to happen to me often, so my mind tends to try and prepare itself for the worst. Disappointment is rough.

Reality is that I may not get to dance long enough to improve enough to do everything I dream of doing, but that doesn’t mean I should just give up or not give it my all.

And maybe that’s the difference.
I’m not burned out on dancing. I’m not doing it because someone is making me. I don’t have a million opportunities of things I would like to try or whatever like most school kids do. I’m not still trying to figure out what I like and what I don’t and what might be nice or what I may or may not be good at.
I’m an adult, and I’ve mostly figured out what I enjoy and why and have pursued these things.
I’m dancing because I want to be here.
I also realize that everything could change tomorrow.
Just this weekend at rehearsals I found out a friend of mine who is a teen was diagnosed with stage III ovarian cancer.
Nothing is guaranteed.

I’ve journaled a lot over the years, and one thing that does for me is help me remember how people made me feel when certain things happened, or what I wish would have happened.
New school? I remember feeling beyond nervous, wishing someone would be kind and show me around. So when there was a new kid, what did I do?
Starting ballet for the first time? I remember shaking and feeling so insecure about where I was compared to the others. I remember no one talking to me and questioning why I was there. I also remember the girl in class who was the best coming to help me when I stood frozen in a corner.
What did I do when there was a new person after me? Introduced myself, learned their name, encouraged them after class. People would later ask me if I knew them before they came in. I didn’t, but I was them once.

Now I find myself in a unique position.
I am a twenty-six-year-old girl who made it through the horrors of high school, the nerves of college, the difficulties of family, the complications of roommates, etc.
I remember being 12-15 and being nervous and wondering if people liked me or if I was annoying. I remember seeing the twenty-somethings and wishing I was important enough for them to say hi to me. I remember being afraid to risk things because of what people would think. And now I see that what goes on in our heads mostly never happens. More than likely, people aren’t thinking you’re annoying, they aren’t hating you, they don’t think you’re unimportant, they won’t think less of you for taking a risk.
I remember being 6-11 and thinking the older girls were the coolest things in the world. I remember watching what they do and wanting to do that, to be that. I remember feeling so cool if they put their arm around me, or called me by name, or hugged me, or waved, or smiled at me, or countless other things. I remember seeing what they did and trying to imitate it.
I remember being in high school. I remember being too sad to function. I remember zoning out in AP US History because I couldn’t even find the energy to pay attention with all the darkness clouding my mind. I remember tearing up, drawing in my binder to try and keep the tears from falling. I remember dreading school, dreading tests, dreading report cards. I remember knowing I could do better but not being able to figure out how to be better because I was so depressed and no one would accept that because they were so used to me being happy.
I remember.

And here I am, surrounded by these kids.
Taking classes with them. Being cast along side them.
I’m not the twenty-six-year-old teacher, I’m the twenty-six-year-old-who-looks-fifteen classmate.
I’m not the one to be feared, I’m just another one of them.

I have a very unique position, but it’s my choice whether I take it or not.
I don’t have to say hi to them. I don’t have to ask them how school is going, or if there dog is feeling better, or how their math test went, or when the drill team auditions are, or any number of other things going on in their life.
I don’t have to tell them their arabesque is looking really good, or that their leotard looks nice on them, or that they completely nail their solo, or that they are a joy to watch during their part, or that they have a great bun that day, or countless other things.
I don’t have to.
But I do.

Because not to long ago, I was nervous. Not too long ago, I didn’t think I was good enough. Not too long ago, I thought everyone judged me by how my leotard fit. Not too long ago, I thought I was falling through the cracks, nothing important, what am I even doing here? Not to long ago I would have given anything for someone to say something encouraging to me, and if they ever did, I cherished it.

So although it was a little difficult to be cast as the cover for the Crows role next to all these kids younger than me, it was only difficult for half a second. Moreso, I was thrilled to be considered good enough to have that responsibility. (case and point: one of the covers has to do their role for at least one show. Good thing she’s a hard worker!) And even though chances are I won’t dance the part, there was a point when that wasn’t certain, and Julie knew that if she needed me, she could throw me in and it would be okay. (She even said this, about me and the girl who gets to dance the role one of the shows, in front of everyone.)
I dance it, full out. I enjoy the moment, even if it won’t matter. Because I’m having so much fun in this opportunity I didn’t think I would even get and want to show them that they weren’t wrong to trust me to cover the role.

Then this happens:

I was torn between, “What a nice thing for my friend to say!” and completely fangirling. 
My friend happens to also be the best dancer in the company. We are new friends, so I only really see her at rehearsals, but friends nonetheless. For her to say that how I danced made her want to be the role…I really can’t think of a higher compliment.
It washed all my concerns away.
I am capable.
I am worth being here.
My efforts aren’t pointless.
I’m not sucking as much as I thought.
I may never be a principal dancer, but that doesn’t mean that my dancing is for nothing.
You don’t have to be a principal dancer to inspire. 
This is why I like being in my level, even though it’s not my age.
Because I can say something like this to the younger dancers. 
I may never be a principal, but they could be. And if it takes a few nice words to help them get there, I’m going to hold nothing back.

I’m glad my back started hurting.

Remember that one post where I said I was scared the knee pain was more than just knee pain?

Exhibit A.
I went to the chiropractor’s office yesterday after developing a really painful knot in my lower back. It was so bad I couldn’t even sit and having the ballet class I really needed to be at, I knew I couldn’t handle it. 
Sure, maybe push through this class, or skip it, but what if this doesn’t go away? It’s not just my back; it’s my knee, it’s my head, it’s my hip, it’s so many things I can’t think of them all while dancing to keep the pain away.
Well now we know why.
I called my Dad since he works on the computers of a chiropractor’s office in town and he was actually on the phone with them when I called. They were able to fit me in yesterday, and this is what we learned.
From the above picture: My left leg is shorter than my right.

I knew my hips were out of alignment frequently, but I had no clue that my left leg was actually shorter. A friend I grew up with had this issue and wore special shoes and everything, but I didn’t know I had it too.

Then my spine is all jacked up as you can see, and my hips way out of alignment, more than what can be fixed with a simple jerk to set them back (like my PT did two years ago.)
Hence the hips pain.
Then:
Yeah, my back is supposed to be straight up against the back panel thingy. 
It’s clearly not.
He called this a “cheerleader back” which made sense to me since my family has cheerleaders in it. This is probably due in part to my hips and back being misaligned, but also something I need to work on.
No wonder I have such a hard time tucking my tailbone in class.
The Doctor said they’re going to have to re-teach me how to stand.
Yeah, so, you can see a lot of the vertebrae that are misaligned. It’s causing a lot of strain and pressure and just really bad. (Also, you can see the sutures from my removed gallbladder. Kinda cool.)
See how the one side is bigger than the other?
Yep. Arthritis.
Apparently when I was in that car wreck (that caused most of this. But I had no clue. Cause the ER told me nothing? thanks ER.) the whiplash caused some damage and over time it calcified and caused arthritis. It doesn’t really affect me, but it makes my neck bigger on the one side. And no wonder my teachers tell me I hold all my tension in my neck. You can also see some of the vertebrae misaligned here too.
Your neck is supposed to curve.
Mine doesn’t. It goes straight up and down. The Doctor couldn’t even get the 3D model to do this, like, my neck shouldn’t be doing this. But apparently my vertebrae are backwards or something. He explained it, but I don’t remember the details since there was so much information to take in. But my neck is shorter than it should be, as well. To quote him, “God just made ya funny.” I like this Doctor. 
So this makes all the pain make sense.
I figured there was some connection since it was all happening on my right side. The impact of the car wreck was on the right side. I wish I would have known I needed to see him back in 2011 when it happened, especially since I had just began ballet two weeks before and could have helped my learning so much more, but thankfully this is all reversible. He says it’ll take about six months to get it all straightened out and I’m going to have to work hard, but I am just so thrilled to actually have a doctor give me an answer and not just pass me off as being dramatic like everyone else has. (spare my family practitioner. I like her.) 
This should also help my stomach, which is amazing. And it’ll help my dancing. 
He’s gonna try acupuncture on me too, which I’m oddly excited about.
He kept saying, “Such a tender age…” for all the things that were wrong. Which honestly, made me feel really comforted. So often people talk to me and treat me like I’m just being dramatic and just need to suck it up. The ones that were helpful were actually helpful to the extent of their knowledge (like taping the knee and using oils to help me through) but everyone else made me feel like I had no right to say anything. Even my boss made a comment like I was being dramatic or like it was all my fault and I should have fixed it years ago but I literally didn’t know. And it made me feel bad. Or like it was a competition because he has cancer and obviously this isn’t cancer, but it is painful and is going to take a lot of time and healing and work. And if I didn’t do anything for it, it would greatly affect my way of life, as it already is. 
I love this doctor. I love his care for his patients. I love that he loves and respects my Dad and is able to help me so much. I am very fortunate. 
I was also able to tell Ms. Lori about it all (I had asked her opinion last class) and she was very grateful that I did so now she knows what to look for and can better help me. 
Goodness, I’m so glad I have her as a teacher.
Things are actually working in my favor and it’s wonderful.