the end of the road

NACC went really well. Attendees increase exponentially each year and this year we had upwards of 1000 people. We sold it out. It's an incredibly well run event. That's the good news. The bad is that I came back feeling terrible, and have continued to feel worse until now. It's clear(er) to me that my community, with a few exceptions, does not respect me, and likely find me repellant. I'm the oldest one around, and not respected like Deke. I'm just the old person noone knows why they're there. There are people in their 20s pinging off the walls with too much confidence for their work and experience, and they're the ones everyone loves. Survey responses to my social media class were middling, with a few people saying they got "nothing" out of it. Now, it's an hour of solid information on marketing and social media culled and revised from years of work in the business, so I can't understand how anyone could get "nothing" out of it. But there it is. There are other negative comments too about the event in general, but those don't hurt me personally. When someone comments that microphones are a "distraction", that's just garbage I/we can dismiss because it's stupid. But I can't do that with the comments about "nothing".

I felt sweaty and overwhelmed and gross all weekend. My allergies make sure that my nose is running constantly. That never fucking lets up and it's exhausting. It looks terrible. 6 years of shots and most symptoms are better, but the running nose NEVER EVER STOPS. Thurs night was supposed to be the team members who were there putting together packets/badges. We didn't have that stuff, so what it was was a party of people getting drunk, jumping in the pool, etc. Miserable for me. Miserable. Emotionally, it didn't get better from there.

I don't know why I'm doing this. I'm not interested in it anymore. I'm not respected. I'm not creating. I've put so much into this for nothing. I have no career. I am alone. I saw my NP 2 days ago and she looked over her glasses at me and told me - again - that I need to lose weight. The weight is causing all sorts of health issues, any of which will apparently kill me any day. More meds. Fabulous.

I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. 

dreams comma bad

My dreams are vivid, detailed, exhausting, and have narrowed themselves down to a handful of topics, almost all unpleasant, and even the pleasant one is unpleasant. Insecurity, not having a home, being alone, traveling alone, performance disasters, teaching disasters, unpleasant sex. These topics, without fail. Never a night of rest, never just a nice dream.

Last night I was teaching a class at a high school. My actual hs French teacher (who I see regularly as she is friends with my parents) was there and I was teaching her class. The room was HUGE, long and narrow with a piano almost at one end and kids lining the whole thing. I was late because I forgot my things and had to go back and get them. And the kids had ZERO interest in listening. They were talking and laughing at me and chewing tobacco (!!). I couldn't remember what I wanted to say, why I was there. It was a disaster, as all my dreams are.

I wasn't planning to teach at NACC because I haven't been feeling so great about teaching in general, or...anything. I'm afraid I have no skills or expertise, and certainly nothing compelling that people want to watch. But I was scheduled into the weekend anyways, and only recently found that out. I'm teaching a social media class and am on a women's panel. The sm class has been recently overhauled for Raymond's music biz class but needs to be refined further even since then, because things move so fast. So now I'm worried about both. Though most of the people are people I look forward to seeing, there are some I don't, the ones who have me hidden on Facebook and no longer interact with me unless they absolutely have to. They are reminders that people generally don't like me, that I'm easily dismissed or erased. No wonder I'm alone.

If I were into experimenting with meds, I would take some of the drugs I got for my back pain - muscle relaxant, serious painkillers, something else. I only took a few of the muscle relaxants at the height of the pain. The others I never took. But I wish I had an escape, just one night without this exhausting shit. I look and feel horrible.

In addition, Tomar (98) had a stroke. It's not looking good. I won't go into the details since I get no response or support here, but I don't see any good outcome here. 

where else to spew but here...?

Ya know. it might be ancient history, but I think having two boyfriends in my 20s leave me because I was "too depressed" to be with, despite many years and other boyfriends passing, that seems to have branded me with BROKEN, a belief that ok, they're right, I'm not fit to be someone's partner. Nevermind that they (none of them flawless, goddammit!) have had many partners/marriages/children since, that everyone else has moved on, that I think I'd be a good partner, that depression does not = incapacitated. It still lingers.

It's been a tough time, esp since getting back from CA on Mon. Running up against everything that is difficult: being alone, money issues, being chased for money, feeling like a failure on every front, most esp professionally. Despite the fact that in name I'm the executive director of WACA and our festival was a great success, it was very difficult for me, it's Lisa that people gravitate to and rightfully so. She's a powerhouse (whereas) I'm literally intimidated by everyone. That's not a good quality for a leader of any kind. I felt sweaty and gross and frantic and ugly and fat the whole weekend. I'm glad that everyone's having such enormous professional successes, but could I get just a tiny taste of it? Just a celebration once in a while?

I feel like there's noone really to talk to, as the bf has lots of things she's dealing with and I don't want to bother her, I'm being called on to (ironically) help with the people in the family who are dealing with their own issues. The CA family is having some serious issues that noone's dealing with, and one of soon-to-be new members of the family appealed to me when we were alone* (we took BART together when he was going to work and I was going to the airport) to try to get the word out about what's going on in this corner of the family. And he's right - it's supremely fucked. The players are all psych professionals with apparently no concept of the fact that there are serious problems that need dealing with, if not hospitalization for one person. It's nice to have my sister and soon-to-be BIL on board to hash through these things. At least it feels like there's one corner of stability. But still I don't want to talk to her about my struggles because she doesn't tend to be sensitive at times.

My own therapist thinks that if I'm still feeling this crushing anxiety (which I am), that a med adjustment is in order, and the fact that I am not arguing tells me that this is pretty bad. I've been having active, anxiety dreams and I wake up shaking (it's ok, says neuro, but it sure doesn't feel ok). Last night: I was moving into one tiny room (basically my current bedroom) and trying to move all my little tables (because I can't afford large grownup furniture like adults do) and books into this small space. I was giving lots of books about psych (not sure why I had them) to a friend [who I just saw in CA who is in constant hype mode. She doesn't ever stop promoting/bragging about herself. It's exhausting and I wonder if that's what I should be doing too. It's just not in my DNA.]

I think a lot about whether or not the "stuff" I have should be gotten rid of. I'd like to move and because, again, I can't afford things adults do, I've already been encouraged to toss things to make a move easier. But I don't have *that* much, compared to people who have basements and/or attics and housefuls of stuff. The New BIL jettisoned tons of shit to move to CA (of course he was moving into an already furnished place with my sister), but others I know keep collecting junky things that serve no purpose just because. I try to curate. Only get and keep things that really mean something to me. Donate/purge periodically. I have good taste and some nice things, eg I was just looking at a black owl statue that one of the abovementioned boyfriend's grandmother gave me. It's gorgeous and I love it. It sits on my dresser and the only other thing there is a jewelry box. I don't feel like I have a home (literally or figuratively, via another person), so these things are comforting to me.

*this guy is so astonishingly good looking. I kept thinking that people on the train were probably wondering what this ugly old lady was doing with him.

post Thanksgiving

Ok yeah it's been a few months. A week ago tomorrow I was driving back from OH. For some reason (not weather, which was fine) there were TONS of accidents and the drive back took 12.5 hours. No joke. I guess I could spend the time on the phone, but that feels like it adds stress to an already endless drive, as calls are constantly getting dropped or the connection is bad. Could we fix that please, cell technology people? So I listened to a chunk of a book (TC Boyle's When The Killing's Done), some podcasts, some music on random shuffle. Stopped a few times, but not for long.

The visit was good, as usual, but I also find myself getting tired of the constant interaction, even though they're people I want to interact with. Some of the family are legit nuts, which does not mean I don't love them, but they're nuts. They'd be quirky and funny if there weren't repercussions of their weirdnesses. I felt like my sister and brother and their peeps were some of the sole bastions of normalcy. Glad my father's still around, sad that he's still in so much pain. And my back issues are not going away and in fact seem to be getting worse, so I broke down and made an appt. to be seen by my NP, who will probably refer me to a specialist and/or for tests. Maybe the result will just be "stop being fat" but I've already had an MRI years ago that showed damage/arthritis.

This year was also tough because as usual peoples' lives are moving on while I stay in place. My own niece (who wasn't there) getting married, my 20s cousins getting engaged or bringing their boyfriends, my sister's new boyfriend (who yes, is awesome and is my pal), kids, the new MD...As usual, I'm happy for them but sad for myself. I try not to talk too much about myself because it just sounds depressing to me. I could make it sound good, but the truth is I'm not doing anything I love or is leading anywhere or is satisfying and I'm not making enough $$. And every year I'm alone. Alone again. That's just my state of being now.

We did make a rap video for Tomar's 98th and that was fun. I look like an absolute monster in it, though, which is always depressing. Tomar's paranoid and has some dementia but she's really still with it for the most part. I'm reading Dark Tide about the Boston molasses flood of 1919 (fascinating and terrible) and I realized that she was alive then. A baby, but alive. 

rubble jumping

Had a dream last night that I was in some sort of dystopian, burnt out disaster area and you had to hire drivers to get you around because it was like the site of an earthquake. And apparently these drivers were able to somehow jump their cars over all the rubble and smashed buildings, even though they seemed to be regular cars. So I got into one of these cars with some other people and we jumped over a bunch of rubble. This was apparently very dangerous. But I made it to wherever I was going, which was some sort of event or performance. By the way, the driver was a woman. That's all I remember. This dystopian theme has come back a few times, and it's certainly not because I'm watching a lot of Hunger Games-type movies. But I guess I do feel like I'm surrounded by a disaster of a life that I can't fix, need help to get through. Or something.