So much to say. (Part 2)

I’ve spent 15 years wondering how to approach The Meantime Diaries. I’ve started and stopped various iterations. The timing feels right, now; maybe the end feels closer so it’s more appropriate.

I’m going to carve this space into three sections:

Me/Then Responding to my old journal entries. I want to give Me the truth and support she needed back then. No false hope. Just honest responses.

Storytelling “The Frog and the Ox.” I won that contest and unknowingly planted a seed about limitations.

Myself/Now – Vulnerability, shame, and lots of Brene Brown. I’m trying to rise strong and Brene writes that this is the part of the story most never let others see. Welcome to mine.

This was a good day.

I/Horizon – I’m trying to envision a future that’s not based on the past. Mainly this will be reminders of where I want to convince myself that change is possible, even though I have no idea how to get there.

Dave was great. I spent most of the concert with my eyes closed. It hurt too much to try to peer at him through all of the couples in front of me. Every time I looked, I would ask myself why I was such a fuck up. I didn’t have an answer, so I just closed my eyes.

I could feel everything they played. I saw the stage lights behind my eyes. That was enough. The guy next to me asked me if I enjoyed myself, during the last song. I told him yes; I was just listening to Dave the way I do at home. He laughed and gave me a high five.

My love of DMB started in the mid-90s. I danced to Ants Marching in a skit for my high school’s Beta Club nominee for State Vice President. She was great, but didn’t win, unfortunately. Her name was Kristy Tart and so we dressed up like Pop Tarts wearing colored sandwich boards and matching shirts and leggings. It was great to be part of that.

I have a photo to prove this happened, but it’s at my dad’s house, aka the Island of things I’ll never see again. So you’ll have to take my word that the bit was funny, ingenious, and everything a Beta Club skit from 1996 should be.

I’ve only seen Dave Mathews in concert one other time, eight years ago. I’d waited almost 20 years to see them and, sadly, it was disappointing. In all fairness, that was my fault, not the band’s. They notoriously played less than popular songs and usually acoustic versions. Not a big sing-a-long group. I should’ve done my research. This time though, I was ready. I loved every minute. Expectations are everything.

…but I do enjoy a good surprise. They were winding down their set and then drum beat changed to a familiar tune. I didn’t want to believe it until the beat dropped.

They were closing with Ants Marching. I screamed – and finally stood up! I associate this song with dancing and so it just seemed right. It was a great night.

So much to say (Part 1)

Dave Matthews is going on in 30 minutes. I loved him back in college. I’m numb to everything right now but decided to come anyway. I would’ve wasted the night anyway. Now I can be alone in a crowd. (Confession: I didn’t give away the second ticket. I asked a few people and then stopped trying.)

It’s been a hard week. Been listening to Rising Strong again. This passage cut me today:

“I’ve rumbled with failure and shame enough over the past decade to know this: You can do everything right. You can cheer yourself on, have all the support you can find in place, and be 100 percent ready to go, and still fail…But if you can look back during your rumble and see that you didn’t hold back—that you were all in—you will feel very different than someone who didn’t fully show up. You may have to deal with the failure, but you won’t have to wrestle with the same level of shame that we experience when our efforts were halfhearted.”

Brene Brown, “Rising Strong”

That’s horseshit. Why do people need to compare themselves to others so much? That does NOTHING for me. Knowing that someone is suffering less or more than me is irrelevant. I don’t do life like that. Like, I’m wearing a mask at the concert. Have I encountered anyone else wearing one? No. Does that affect my feelings about wearing one? No. There is not a single fuck I could find, even with the help of Randy McNally and Google Maps.

The truth is that I failed. Period. I feel like shit. Feeling slightly less shitty wouldn’t feel like an improvement right now, Brene. I was BRAVING and have nothing to show for it. Love. Work. Life. Nothing.

I don’t want to feel better; I want to feel good. Since that isn’t possible, I’m going to get wasted on ridiculously expensive drinks.