Another injury

That's right, another injury.
Apparently during the holiday showcase, I stepped funny (I'm assuming do to the blisters) and sprained my foot.
I didn't see a doctor about it until this past Monday, hoping it would just pass and be fine.
I talked to a doctor at my parents church who said it seemed I shifted a bone out of place.
Yeah, imagine me, in the back row of church, in a dress, with her pulling on my foot to make sure it was back in place.
So I settled on that for a while, druggin' up on ibuprofen to keep the swelling down.
Two weeks later and it was still hurting, so I decided to see if I needed xrays to make sure nothing more was wrong with it.
Nope. Just a freakin' grade 2-grade 3 foot sprain. Have to take it easy for a few more weeks.
So, no pointe.
again.
Hopefully just two more weeks. The doctor said to wait until it feels better (which it is already improving) and warned to not start back too soon or I could risk permanent damage.
Quite the chatty fellow. He proceeded to tell me--through laughter--how silly it is to not wait out an injury, because it would just cause  more time I'd have to be away later and possibly end my career.
He also made an interesting comment on how it doesn't matter if you're a beginner, in high school, experienced, professional--whatever. The risk is still the same all throughout.
"One you start football, no matter the level, you're a football player. Once you start ballet, no matter if you're just doing it recreationally or not, you're a ballerina."

I'm a ballerina.
I'm a ballerina.

This struck me.
I guess I always hesitated to label myself as such, seeing that I've only just completed my second year of (real) ballet and have so much in front of me to go. Maybe it's because when you're my age and say you're a ballerina, people expect you to be hard core or--at least--tiny. But I still have much to learn and so much to improve on. I'm barely on pointe and even when I am, it seems a struggle to get to do anything without someone having to sit out.
I really don't want to lose any of the muscle I've built up.
I want to be able to improve on it and work hard.
But for now, I have to wait.

No matter, I'll do what I can do.
I'll work on flexibility and abs. That doesn't require my foot.
And what do you know,
I GOT MY RIGHT SIDE SPLIT!

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, at 25 years old, I have finally reached a goal of being able to do a split.
I went down into the right side split and was able to lift my hands and stay there. Almost have it on my left side, too, and center is getting better and better.
It was just a surprising little reminder that progress is happening.

Defeat is only defeat when you give up on trying.

I refuse to be defeated.

My first fall.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, it happened.
I had my first fall from pointe.

It happened during floor work. I'm behind everyone else as it is, but I'm doing the best I can. Thank God my teacher is really understanding and doesn't make me feel pressured or rushed. Better to do it right.
We were going from the left side doing a pique to front attitude. I don't even know how it happened but I ended up on my butt.
My reaction?
I burst into laughter.
After the fact, I always laugh at myself in how I'm disappointed no one is laughing with me. But, they're my friends. And I just fell off my pointe shoe. Why would they laugh? Duh, Emilee. I guess laughing is my automatic response.
I got right back up after laughing and tried it again. I didn't even think about being afraid until I noticed Jilissa's concern and direct attention to my next move. This is when I became surprised in myself.
I'm always afraid. I'm always concerned. I always feel things deeply and take them to heart and take a while to shake them. But this time, I just got right back up and kept going.
I guess I'm finally growing up, eh?
When I noticed, I was grateful for Jilissa's careful concern. It made me feel like trying again was safe; and it was. I always thought my left was my stronger side, but I guess on pointe it's my right. She even complimented my roll down off pointe on the right side. The car wreck affected my left leg, but in turn I had more issues on my right. I guess with putting all the pressure and over-hyper extending it while over compensating for the injury to the left, it ended up affecting the right more. The right is the one I had to go to physical therapy for.
Well. I guess it worked.

I want to work harder. I want to improve. I want to become stronger and more stable and perfect the craft. And then I want to learn more and perfect that.
I want to dance as often as I can for as long as I can.
Life is to short to sit it out.

Where I'm supposed to be.

Sometimes I don't even realize I've gone so long without writing.

Recently I had been having issues with my darn pointe shoes. I mean, I know they're supposed to hurt, but should they bring me to tears during class? I mean. I don't cry. It takes a lot for that to happen. But these shoes managed it.
After a long battle, I have finally gotten to where they're supposed to be; just the right amount of pain. This is the stuff I can endure. This is the stuff that I can battle through and see the results of my labor.
I'm still behind everyone else, but that's okay.
I'm also 25, I had an organ removed two months ago, not to mention all the other health issues plaguing me.
I don't want to make excuses, but I gotta accept reality at times. It is what it is.

Let me tell ya, it feels good to finally be able to do pointe like I'm supposed to be. To be able to fight the fight. To be able to work hard and succeed.
I have a long way to go, but I'll get there.

Keep Fighting

Part of the journey is being confronted with a certain, extremely high, brick wall.
You have two choices when you reach it:

1. Run.
   You can turn around and never look back. Give up and say it's too hard. You made it that far, that's something to speak of, right?
2. Or, you can climb it.

Say you pick number 2. You begin your ascension, gripping the next brick you can reach and doing all you can to pull yourself up. But some of the bricks aren't stable. These bricks usually begin as thoughts. "You can't do this." "Who are you kidding?" "Look at yourself. You're nothing like you're supposed to be." "You can't do this. It's too hard. You're too old. Just give up. It's too late to start this, now." "Everyone else is excelling so much quicker than you are. Why even try?" "You're never going to make it." "ooo, that's uncomfortable, better not do that."

Newsflash: If it was comfortable, everyone would be doing it.

This road we're on, it isn't easy. We're gonna face these bricks that try and hit us in the face and make us give up. Don't let them.  If you do, you'll also find the bricks of regret. 

Keep pressing forward. 

You got this. You can do this. It may take longer, but it'll be worth it.

Fight for what your heart is telling you.

It's worth it.

It turns out, I didn't rip my pointe shoes off and throw them out the window. Sure, I fought tears the entire class and slipped a few not-so-good words, but I didn't walk out. I didn't give up. I may have been weak this class--for whatever reason--but I didn't give up.

I can identify this weakness, address it, and work harder next class.

I'm too determined to quit. 

In fact, I would think quitting would be more painful than enduring.

Keep Fighting.

Mental Strength.

Jilissa has been hitting a certain topic recently.
"Your mind is stronger than your body."
And, boy, is she right.

I thought I understood this before, but I'm really starting to understand it now.
I have a long way to go. I need to get stronger. I need more flexibility. I need better arches.
All these things I need to work on daily to get to where I'm heading, and sometimes it seems impossible.
My pointe shoes are giving me a really difficult time. My right foot's big toe gets crammed and starts hurting at the joint really badly. It scares me, I don't want to press through something if it's going to be detrimental in the long run. At the same time, I don't want to make excuses for something I just have to press through.
I noticed the truth in Jilissa's statement yesterday.
After point class, I noticed the joint didn't hurt so much, and my arch was feeling like it got more work into it.
These are both great things.
So as we started learning new and complex things I can't physically do (yet) I kept reminding myself to try my hardest and do it right, even if it didn't look the best. Don't cheat and make bad habits from the beginning. Work up to it.
When I didn't think I could do something, I would just shove the doubt out of the way and try.
It's amazing what you can do when you tell yourself you can.

I have a lot of improvement that needs to be done, but at least I'm seeing it.
No excuses.
No, "I can't."
Those two words are going to be removed from my ballet vocabulary.

I'm only going up from here.

History

I think one thing that draws me to ballet is the history behind it.
To see pictures of ballerinas from the 1800s blows my mind.
Their pointe shoes look like mine.
There form is what I learn.
Their costumes are familiar.
The ballets they dance are ones I've seen.

It's almost like doing ballet ensures immortality.
Not that you yourself are immortal, but that by being a ballerina, you become part of something immortal.

I love history, I love people's stories, I love museums and seeing things that have more than I've been around for; things I didn't get to live or experience myself. I am also vastly aware of how the life I'm living and the generation I'm in is just as much a mark in history as those that fascinate me.
I love when I can tie things from my own life to that of the past. When I find common ground between me in history. I especially love being able to step into a time warp of sorts and experience glimpses of life and times before mine.
It's probably why I love taking dance pictures by the old buildings downtown.

I'm leaving my mark here.
I'm doing my dance.
I'm living my life.
The times I have now can never come back once they've passed.
I want to do all I can to remember and document and make the most of every ounce of this life.

You don't know what you have until it's gone.

I had my gallbladder out on October 4th.
I've been sick for a while and the doctors have been clueless as to what is causing it. In September I was informed that I needed to get my gallbladder removed.
I was nervous, not just because I've never had surgery before, but because I had just started pointe, and I didn't want to fall behind the rest of the girls or--in essence--have to start over.
I psyched myself up to the reality that I'd probably have to miss a month of dance classes. I told myself this was good timing because I shouldn't miss much of the Holiday Showcase choreography and practice. At lease there's that, right?
I had the surgery, and they said it went well. The first four days were rough, but my friends who had the procedure before told me that was to be expected. I couldn't move much. The first day, I could hardly even sit up on my own, let alone do anything else. Standing was painful, even. Thankfully, mobility increased every day. Soon, when I was able to sit up pretty well I got my theraband and worked the muscles in my feet and ankles. The poor things were so neglected.
I had my 10-day follow up appointment this past Monday. Surprisingly, he released me to dance already. It seems like weeks elapsed in those few days I could hardly move, and like my body milked every moment up until that appointment to be lacking in some area. Yet, he still told me I was all clear.
So yesterday, I show up for ballet class. My dance teacher was shocked. I told her I promised to take it easy and not push myself too hard. After all, this was my first day to do any form of physical activity. It seemed my body took every moment it had even up until my dance class (three days and one class after I was technically released) to let me have mostly full function.
A big group of my girls from the studio walked in at one time. When they saw me, they all got really excited and ran to hug me with squeals in their voices. It made me feel so loved, so wanted. Just being in the building made my heart feel so full and happy, let alone getting to dance and be surrounded by my friends.
They were the ones who were most encouraging throughout all this. They understand this desire, and the fulfillment dance brings. The aching deep in my soul to express. They understand how it feels when you have to step away for one reason or another. They missed me as much as I missed them.
One of my friends, Lauren, wasn't there yet. She was the one I was really looking forward to surprising. Allie was just asking where she was when she ran in the studio and grabbed me in the biggest hug ever. It was so great. She told me how every dance day she would be on her way over here, hoping that I would be there that day. Pointe is hard, and we all really encourage each other. I try and use my 25-year-old view on life to encourage their 13-year-old view. Sometimes it can seem difficult, but if we can just push through it, it's worth it. We really band together to endure.
As we were in pointe class and our toes feel like they're going to fall off, I couldn't help but smile, and feel like I was going to burst with happiness. This pain was so wonderful. It meant I was able. It meant I made it. It meant I'm alive and I can function and I can still pursue my dreams. It meant one more step towards progress. The girls did advance quite a bit in the 3 classes I missed; doing pique turns and more across the floor work. So much that Jilissa told us we would do barre on pointe in the first class now, then take them off for floor, and put them back on for pointe. Even though I know I missed those classes they got, I still did all I could. I refused to let fear hold me back from excelling to where they are. I made mental plans of practicing at home more, using the balcony since I don't really have space, looking forward to house sitting for Andie and getting to use her dance room. I figured out what was making my right foot hurt so much more than my left, I need to pull up out of my shoe. That's gonna take a lot of retraining and conditioning. A lot of practice. The more I practice, the faster I advance.
And now that I've had a taste of what it's like to not have the choice to practice, I realize the importance of it. I'll gladly have the pain, it means I'm progressing.
I got home and looked down at my shoes. I realized again that they are mine.
I own pointe shoes.
I am on pointe.
This isn't someone else's pair I'm borrowing.
This isn't observing the girl next to me.
This isn't internet research.
This is reality.
This is beautiful, painful, glorious reality.
I want to dance as long as I have legs. My heart is so full.
I am so grateful to have this opportunity.
<3