I took the last 6 weeks off of circus training because my neck injury was flaring up. The 1 year anniversary of someone running a red light and smashing into my car/life was during that 6 week break, I tried not to let that get me down. I remember being bummed that I had to miss training the day of the accident…. little did I know it would be 10 months before I could return.

It still fucks with me, how one split second can change the rest of your life, and it could have been infinitely worse, but coping with chronic pain and battling PTSD for the last year have not been easy. I have the okay from my doctors to start again today, slowly, and see if adding more stretching and yoga will help in a successful re-return. 
I hate even thinking that I might have to quit. Nothing makes me sweat like that fucking hoop, nothing makes my mind still like aerial acrobatics. But more than that, returning to circus school has done more for my PTSD than 18 sessions with my therapist. My mind and body are connected when I am up there, I can work through my fears in a tangible way. 
There is so much more I want to learn. 
Wish me luck today.

I took the last 6 weeks off of circus training because my neck injury was flaring up. The 1 year anniversary of someone running a red light and smashing into my car/life was during that 6 week break, I tried not to let that get me down. I remember being bummed that I had to miss training the day of the accident…. little did I know it would be 10 months before I could return.

It still fucks with me, how one split second can change the rest of your life, and it could have been infinitely worse, but coping with chronic pain and battling PTSD for the last year have not been easy. I have the okay from my doctors to start again today, slowly, and see if adding more stretching and yoga will help in a successful re-return. 

I hate even thinking that I might have to quit. Nothing makes me sweat like that fucking hoop, nothing makes my mind still like aerial acrobatics. But more than that, returning to circus school has done more for my PTSD than 18 sessions with my therapist. My mind and body are connected when I am up there, I can work through my fears in a tangible way. 

There is so much more I want to learn. 

Wish me luck today.

I put my heart out there. I was my most awkward honest and loving self. And it wasn’t enough. And that hurts, when you show somebody your raw side and they don’t see anything they want, anything they’re interested in.
It’s really hard for me (because of my anxiety and my insecurities and my past and my lack of free-time and my fear of rejection and the fact that I am human) to open up to someone new, but I did it. And it didn’t work out. And I have to stop looking at that as a failure. 
It’s not a failure.
It’s a huge success; I was courageous. And I was true to myself. I went after something I wanted and I put it all out on the table. I was very brave. 
But the bottom line is this: I don’t want to have to convince someone that I’m worth their time. 

luxaurumque:Photo by Pak Han

I put my heart out there. I was my most awkward honest and loving self. And it wasn’t enough. And that hurts, when you show somebody your raw side and they don’t see anything they want, anything they’re interested in.

It’s really hard for me (because of my anxiety and my insecurities and my past and my lack of free-time and my fear of rejection and the fact that I am human) to open up to someone new, but I did it. And it didn’t work out. And I have to stop looking at that as a failure. 

It’s not a failure.

It’s a huge success; I was courageous. And I was true to myself. I went after something I wanted and I put it all out on the table. I was very brave. 

But the bottom line is this: I don’t want to have to convince someone that I’m worth their time. 

luxaurumque:Photo by Pak Han

For the first time ever I had a dream about being on my hoop. 
It was magical. 
I didn’t want to wake up.
(I’m posting beauties all day.)

For the first time ever I had a dream about being on my hoop. 

It was magical. 

I didn’t want to wake up.

(I’m posting beauties all day.)

My self care day was a huge success. After my triumphant morning achievements I proceeded to kick ass at circus school. I was super fucking strong today, everything felt right when my hands were on that hoop. In just 4 weeks I’ve caught up to the level I was at before the accident. Which means next week I get to start learning new tricks again!

Other awesome things:

  1. Visiting Robin to snuggle and show off my circus wounds (not pictured: delicious banana bread she made for me)
  2. Dinner and milkshakes with my favourite people
  3. Taking a selfie in the exact location of the first time I kissed a girl

And now? An epsom salt bath for my aching muscles, a big joint and Pulp Fiction cuddled on the couch with hubs. 

SELF-CARE ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED!

Action shot from last week. It’s hard to explain but this is step 2 of a 3 step trick. Robin has been training with me every week and she takes lotsa pictures.  

Action shot from last week.
It’s hard to explain but this is step 2 of a 3 step trick. 
Robin has been training with me every week and she takes lotsa pictures.  

Every week I get a little stronger. 
It feels so good.
My biggest hurdle is my flexibility, but it will come back. 
One day my foot will touch my head in this position. 
You’ll see. 

Every week I get a little stronger. 

It feels so good.

My biggest hurdle is my flexibility, but it will come back. 

One day my foot will touch my head in this position. 

You’ll see. 

(Source: herdirtylittleheart)

Week 2 of my triumphant return to circus!

Robin is coming with me to try the silks, I’m always so excited to share my circus school with others.

There is nothing that engages my body or makes me sweat like aerial acrobatics.

thatkindofwoman: Circus Girls. The most badass girl gang there was.

All of my points of contact with the hoop hurt; hands, backs of knees, the small of my back
It’s the best fucking pain, it hurts so good
MY NECK FEELS GREAT!!! No pain, which means I can go back!!
I can’t wait to go back!!!
I am already mentally creating lyra choreography to “I’m A Boss Ass Bitch" by PTAF
I’m currently trying to rationalize the purchase of this bodysuit for aerial acrobatics purposes…. (also for sexy playtime purposes OBV!)
Robin wants to learn silks so next week she’s coming with me to circus school
Which means my dreams of finding a circus girlfriend are perhaps coming to fruition 
This graceful beauty is the talented Ellie Mouse 
One thing I love about my husband is his refusal to be limited by the very narrow card-options at our local florist <3 <3 <3
  1. All of my points of contact with the hoop hurt; hands, backs of knees, the small of my back
  2. It’s the best fucking pain, it hurts so good
  3. MY NECK FEELS GREAT!!! No pain, which means I can go back!!
  4. I can’t wait to go back!!!
  5. I am already mentally creating lyra choreography to “I’m A Boss Ass Bitch" by PTAF
  6. I’m currently trying to rationalize the purchase of this bodysuit for aerial acrobatics purposes…. (also for sexy playtime purposes OBV!)
  7. Robin wants to learn silks so next week she’s coming with me to circus school
  8. Which means my dreams of finding a circus girlfriend are perhaps coming to fruition 
  9. This graceful beauty is the talented Ellie Mouse 
  10. One thing I love about my husband is his refusal to be limited by the very narrow card-options at our local florist <3 <3 <3proud.jpg

(Source: elliem0use)

It hurt and I loved every minute of it.
(Story of my life, right?)
I have a lot of work to do but training officially began today. 
Thanks for all of your support tumbl buddies. &lt;3 

It hurt and I loved every minute of it.

(Story of my life, right?)

I have a lot of work to do but training officially began today. 

Thanks for all of your support tumbl buddies. <3 

(Source: herdirtylittleheart)

My first serious boyfriend was older than I was. He was creative and playful and controlling and bipolar. He was diagnosed by several medical professionals but he refused to acknowledge there was anything wrong. &#8220;They just want to fuck with my head,&#8221; he&#8217;d say  He refused to take medication or get any support for his illness. 
I was adolescent and hopeful. I saw the good in him, and was still foolish enough to believe that my love could bridge the gap between his mania and his depression. He opened up to me and because of that I felt responsible for him. 
When he was feeling good we would have spontaneous road trips, drug-fuelled parties, and shopping sprees. We would stay up all night watching Ernest Goes to Camp and building lego masterpieces. When he was feeling bad there were cruel words and screaming matches. He would pick fights with strangers. He would disappear for days. There were always other girls, there was always something I&#8217;d done to disappoint him. He was constantly accusing me of disrespecting him.  
When I broke up with him he refused to accept it. For months he would follow me, waiting outside of my work or home to offer me rides, filling my voice mail with rants that ranged from sobbing to screaming, filling my mailbox with 7 page letters about how he would get better, how he would change, how he was going to die without me, how he knew I needed him. 
I felt sorry for him. I felt guilty for breaking his heart. I didn&#8217;t tell anyone about his behaviour because I was embarrassed. I didn&#8217;t even consider calling the police. I put up with all of his threats and torments because I felt like it was my fault. 
And then one day it was raining. And he was crying. And he offered me a ride home.
I said yes, even though I knew it was a bad idea.
He accelerated on the highway, weaving in and out of traffic at a dangerous pace, driving like a maniac. &#8220;TELL ME YOU LOVE ME!&#8221; he demanded. &#8220;I KNOW YOU LOVE ME! JUST SAY IT!&#8221; I was terrified. I watched the needle on the speedometer rise higher and higher as he swerved towards the guardrail for emphasis. &#8220;If I can&#8217;t have you I don&#8217;t want anyone to have you Heart, it&#8217;s not fair. You&#8217;re my girl.&#8221;
I agreed with him. I told him I loved him. I said anything I could to calm him. I was scared. I didn&#8217;t want to die in his car with his voice in my ear. 
When he arrived in front of my apartment I got out of his car with shaky legs. &#8220;I&#8217;ll see you soon,&#8221; he said. 
I knew I was safe now, there were people around and my feet were on the ground. I knew I could run if I had to. I knew I could scream and someone would help. I knew I was safe.
I never spoke to him again after that. I made my new boyfriend answer my phone. I quit my job so he couldn&#8217;t find me there. I stopped socializing with our mutual friends. 
Eventually he moved away and I didn&#8217;t hear from him anymore. It was a relief. 
I saw him at a party Saturday night.
He looked really good, healthy and strong. 
He told me about his military career, his engineering degree, his dream job and his new fiance. 
There were so many things I wanted to ask him. Are you taking your meds? Do you still see ghosts? Do you still threaten strangers? Do you still collect knives? Do you cheat on her? Is she afraid of you?
We stuck to small talk instead. 
He said I haven&#8217;t changed a bit. That I look like the same girl.
I went to sleep that night and had a string of nightmares about close calls and near misses.

My first serious boyfriend was older than I was. He was creative and playful and controlling and bipolar. He was diagnosed by several medical professionals but he refused to acknowledge there was anything wrong. “They just want to fuck with my head,” he’d say  He refused to take medication or get any support for his illness. 

I was adolescent and hopeful. I saw the good in him, and was still foolish enough to believe that my love could bridge the gap between his mania and his depression. He opened up to me and because of that I felt responsible for him. 

When he was feeling good we would have spontaneous road trips, drug-fuelled parties, and shopping sprees. We would stay up all night watching Ernest Goes to Camp and building lego masterpieces. When he was feeling bad there were cruel words and screaming matches. He would pick fights with strangers. He would disappear for days. There were always other girls, there was always something I’d done to disappoint him. He was constantly accusing me of disrespecting him.  

When I broke up with him he refused to accept it. For months he would follow me, waiting outside of my work or home to offer me rides, filling my voice mail with rants that ranged from sobbing to screaming, filling my mailbox with 7 page letters about how he would get better, how he would change, how he was going to die without me, how he knew I needed him. 

I felt sorry for him. I felt guilty for breaking his heart. I didn’t tell anyone about his behaviour because I was embarrassed. I didn’t even consider calling the police. I put up with all of his threats and torments because I felt like it was my fault. 

And then one day it was raining. And he was crying. And he offered me a ride home.

I said yes, even though I knew it was a bad idea.

He accelerated on the highway, weaving in and out of traffic at a dangerous pace, driving like a maniac. “TELL ME YOU LOVE ME!” he demanded. “I KNOW YOU LOVE ME! JUST SAY IT!” I was terrified. I watched the needle on the speedometer rise higher and higher as he swerved towards the guardrail for emphasis. “If I can’t have you I don’t want anyone to have you Heart, it’s not fair. You’re my girl.”

I agreed with him. I told him I loved him. I said anything I could to calm him. I was scared. I didn’t want to die in his car with his voice in my ear. 

When he arrived in front of my apartment I got out of his car with shaky legs. “I’ll see you soon,” he said. 

I knew I was safe now, there were people around and my feet were on the ground. I knew I could run if I had to. I knew I could scream and someone would help. I knew I was safe.

I never spoke to him again after that. I made my new boyfriend answer my phone. I quit my job so he couldn’t find me there. I stopped socializing with our mutual friends. 

Eventually he moved away and I didn’t hear from him anymore. It was a relief. 

I saw him at a party Saturday night.

He looked really good, healthy and strong. 

He told me about his military career, his engineering degree, his dream job and his new fiance. 

There were so many things I wanted to ask him. Are you taking your meds? Do you still see ghosts? Do you still threaten strangers? Do you still collect knives? Do you cheat on her? Is she afraid of you?

We stuck to small talk instead. 

He said I haven’t changed a bit. That I look like the same girl.

I went to sleep that night and had a string of nightmares about close calls and near misses.

(Source: 16chakras)

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