Wednesday, 08/29/18, 9:39am
Well. So. Hmmm.
Every so often, I have a day or even just a moment of "hey I should really blog about this". And then of course I don't make note of it and forget it or just give up for awhile on blogging. I've written a lot of blog posts over the past, whatever it is, oh, I guess it's been since November of 2015. And apparently it's a ridiculous 221 posts. Yikes. I sometimes wonder... like how much of that has any real worth to it? How much has just been repeated? I'm sure a ton, really. Other than the "oh this is what's been going on in my life" the last day, or week, or month. I don't know. It just kinda adds to my feeling of insignificance in some way. Sigh.
So RG, my older kiddo had this 5th grade overnight camp thing going on this week. They were leaving Monday morning from school, going about an hour away but up in the mountains a bit and in the wilderness with hiking, camping, bonfires, etc. Unfortunately RG developed an infection last week, got on antibiotics last Friday, seemed worse over the weekend, and was unable to leave with the class on Monday. He somehow got a ton better on Monday, so we decided I'd drive him up Tuesday morning to join everyone. It seemed perfect that he could at least get half the trip. But then he got really nervous on the drive, wanted to just turn around and go home. I kept saying things like oh, but we've gone this far, we may as well get there and see what it's like. When we arrived we got to the lodge and cabins but all the kids were out on a hike, so there were a few counselors who came and helped us out. We had an awful time getting him to stay. He got more and more resistant and after a lot of arguing, him being extremely upset, we started driving back down. Partway down, still rather close to the site, after lots of discussing, he finally said that he was concerned that other kids would think he was better now, why couldn't he come Monday? And then those kids would tell other kids, etc. I saw myself reflected in his worries, my fears of what people will think about me, how they'll judge me. I talked about myself with him, how I have a lot of fears like that, and when I end up backing out of things I'd originally wanted to go to, I regretted it. I told him about the pride he'd feel about doing it anyway and trying what he could. We turned around, he seemed a ton better, and he stayed.
The whole experience was... a really mixed bag. I did feel pride in him, pride in myself for finally becoming empathetic, I felt like we got through a lot of the tough feelings. But it all took so much out of me. It made me realize how much I need to be an example of all these things to my kids. It made me think about how, if I expect them to try in life and to be willing to try and fail, I need to do the same. And I often feel like I can't do that. I feel like I fail all the time. I feel like I will never succeed in the things I desperately want to. I hate that feeling.
I may have mentioned in recent posts that I've decided to join choir again this year. This past Saturday was the kick-off party, which I was planning to go to, but I backed out of it. There were a few logistic reasons that made it difficult to attend. My nephew's birthday party was the same day with a theoretical ending at the time the choir party was starting. But then it would have been a bit of a drive between the two. Then the bday party went longer than that anyway, and I wasn't too excited to leave that either. But. Perhaps the biggest reason was that I was terrified to go. I was terrified to see these people and "catch up" or just in general converse with all of them. I was afraid that I might sorta recognize people but not really remember then due to the treatment. I couldn't remember who even knew about the treatment. I was scared.
Then last night was the first choir rehearsal of the season. I was extremely nervous (to say the least) to go. I even had a stupid anxiety attack when I saw my calendar saying the rehearsal started at 6pm and this was already 5:50. I cried, I could barely breathe. Thankfully Nasser was there to help me through and thought to give me my kick in immediately anti-anxiety pill. Eventually I was capable enough to check the official calendars and realize that chamber choir (which I'm not in) has rehearsal 6-7 and concert choir (which I am in) starts at 7pm. Oi.
I went. I went, I went, I went. And choir was wonderful. So incredibly wonderful. It was the perfect amount of talking with a few people, of hearing the director speak about the upcoming season and a bit of Aretha Franklin tribute, of remembering the warm up, of re-learning how to site read music, of remembering that I like to tap my fingers on my leg for what the piano playing of certain measures would be. It felt really good. It was everything Nasser had said it would be, especially in his reminding me of how much singing really means to me. And I had forgotten how supportive these people are, to eachother in general, but also to me, in welcoming me back, in hugging me, in asking about my last year, and in hearing about my last year. When I got in the car after rehearsal, I took a moment to say to myself "I did it. I did it".
I did it. I do it. I try to do it. All critical things to life. All critical to building confidence. All critical to telling those stupid depressive thoughts to just shut up.
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