Yesterday was a very emotional day tacked on to the end of a very emotional week. I woke up hacking up a lung - a great start to any day. I coughed so much that I started gagging and threw up. Or at least dry heaved. Because of this, I did not eat breakfast before I left. I was feeling lousy after the spouses coffee anyway, and when I got to school I committed a faux pas by handing out That Sprout's birthday party invitations to only the girls. I know better than to do this, but how am I supposed to mail them when no one fucking talks to me? I wish I had not invited the whole class in the first place. I am really hoping that they don't show up. Meanwhile, Miss Amy let me know that in the future my method would not be acceptable, and I walked back to my car fighting back tears. A wonderful state to be in on my way to the gym.
At the gym it was shoulder day. I didn't do any cardio because of my coughing fit, so after a short warm up, we dove right in. It wasn't long before I was crying. I already felt like I had made a mistake that morning with the invitations. I don't feel well. And now I was having difficulty with my workout. Because it's hard. And I was still thinking about the night before, where I realized that as an Army spouse, I am a non-entity. Needless to say, there were a lot of emotions racing through my head during my workout.
I don't even have anything bad to say about the trainer. She offered me the same cliche and hollow platitudes that anyone else would have "You just need to stop caring. Fuck em."
. . . Which is a great sentiment if it were not for the fact that I am already trying to do that. But I crave approval SO MUCH that it's not that easy. But Lou Reed is my ersatz father figure and HE figured out how to do it (and if you don't think that he did, I invite you to listen to Metal Machine Music). I need to make my own Metal Machine Music, build a bridge, and get the fuck over all of this.
However, that's easier said than done.
I'm realizing that I will not allow myself to fail and when I do fail, or make a mistake, I don't view it as a learning opportunity. It's something that I cannot cope with. It is a moral failing. I don't like it's safe for me to fail. I don't feel like I am allowed to. It's a crushing feeling. I don't like it. It makes it very hard to feel good about myself and not care about what other people think. I'm sure that other people's opinions of me are far less harsh than my opinion of myself. It's really hard to feel good and to not care what other people think when what you think is the most damning opinion of them all.
In other news, after being very miserable for the rest of the day, I wound up at the beer and wine store on Raeford Rd and met a person who seemed to be about my age who was on the same page as me. She was reading the "The Life and Death of Bunny Monroe" by Nick Cave. Her name is Kasmin and I hope that I will see her again and that we can be friends. It's like God heard my plaintive cry for someone I could relate to. And after the terrible night at the spouses' coffee I was beginning to feel like there was no one in this whole town I could deal with.
So, thank heaven for small favors.
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