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terribleturnipI need to go in and go to sleep, but I'm outside and it's not hot and it's too late to do something productive and the wind is blowing in the trees, and I sort of want to get chased inside by weather, either rain or cold.
\
Or maybe by an empty drink glass.
Every year, I say to myself, wow, that was insanely stressful...next year it won't be this bad. Yet, every goddamn year it is. It's worse. I run a renaissance faire. And work full time. So, that's hard, because it means 11 weeks of 7 day workweeks. It's made harder when your company's been acquired at the M-F job so now you're doing two people's jobs. And then you're finally getting great staff and crew at the renaissance faire, but they've got questions. And want guidance. And instead of saying "fuck it, I just can't get that done" now I've got good people depending on me to make it happen anyway.
Oh, and also, you decided to buy a piece of property with the rest of your poly family and of course it's complicated because the property's weird, and all of the work you did to get it financed is now thrown out and you're starting over because "insert title/deed/whatever/sewer hookup/heating fiasco" here.
Oh, did I mention that my car decided to show its age and $4K later, it's now found new things to fail? Locks, electrical, something now with tire pressure and why does it smell like its burning oil? Oh, but wait, there's more: also, my Hashimoto's has decided to doubledown, the broken heel isn't healing properly, and I'm in early stages of glaucoma. My knees need to be replaced, which is weeks of being laid up, a ton of money, and while I refuse to admit it, I probably do have fibro.
I'm fucking things up because I'm just stretched too thin and the worst thing in the world for me is to feel that I've let people down. Right now that seems like that's the only thing I'm good at. Oh, did I mention that this has been the worst faire season ever, weather-wise and it's either rained or been hellishly hot every single day? Oh, except for the day of such torrential rain that we couldn't even open?
I periodically joke about being a modern day Job, except that there will be no God to apologize to me. I can't even make that joke right now. Guys, seriously, a mosquito just flew up my nose. I wish I had faith right now so that I could give God the finger.
Hells bells, my friends. A baby flicker was on my front steps this morning, just learning to fly. I tried to help it out (since the front steps is where MommaCat comes for breakfast). And it was having a hard time gripping with its right foot...and when it tried to fly, it just face planted and due to its big flicker bill, it literally was impaling itself on the ground. And I knew then, I knew, but I got a shallow box anyway, and put a towel in it to keep it dry and warm because the ground was cold and soaked, so that the strangeness of the box would fend off the cat, but not its parent, who was probably out there waiting to feed it. But it was too weak to even chirp. And I knew when I left for work what would happen and I repeated the thing I've said to so many people over the years: a pair of birds only needs two of its many offspring to grow to adulthood and reproduce, so yes, most of them are destined to be food for something else.
But oh, when I came home and it was cold and stiff in that box, I cried anyway. I bawled like a baby. All of my sadness and upset and weariness and overwhelmedness out in a flood of ugly, salty deluge. I cried for a thousand things. For women who are hated by men, for people of color and non-binary gender people who are hated for just existing. For people whose day to day life makes mine look like a cakewalk. And also, for me. Because your broken leg doesn't hurt any less just because someone else broke both.
I tell this story not for pity, not for seeking comfort, not for validation. I'll fucking get through it, I always do.
I tell this because: you can get through this too, whatever "this" is. Most people who know me would never imagine that I'd struggle with self doubt. That I'd be hanging onto the delight of fireflies like a goddamn liferaft. Yeah, well, it happens to the most capable of us. So don't you dare feel weak. Maybe you feel alone, maybe you don't have supportive partners, or enough friends. But you still have the wind rushing through the tree branches. Or fireflies. Or a yard full of bunnies. Or a cat that depends on you. Or that houseplant that thrives despite your neglect. Or a homeless person for whom your five dollars makes their entire day turn around. Maybe your compliment to that complete stranger, your letting that person cut in front of you in traffic was the thing that made them be able to hang in there one more day. Whatever you can find, you hang on to that. Hang on to that, my friend. Sometimes fireflies need to be enough.
\
Or maybe by an empty drink glass.
Every year, I say to myself, wow, that was insanely stressful...next year it won't be this bad. Yet, every goddamn year it is. It's worse. I run a renaissance faire. And work full time. So, that's hard, because it means 11 weeks of 7 day workweeks. It's made harder when your company's been acquired at the M-F job so now you're doing two people's jobs. And then you're finally getting great staff and crew at the renaissance faire, but they've got questions. And want guidance. And instead of saying "fuck it, I just can't get that done" now I've got good people depending on me to make it happen anyway.
Oh, and also, you decided to buy a piece of property with the rest of your poly family and of course it's complicated because the property's weird, and all of the work you did to get it financed is now thrown out and you're starting over because "insert title/deed/whatever/sewer hookup/heating fiasco" here.
Oh, did I mention that my car decided to show its age and $4K later, it's now found new things to fail? Locks, electrical, something now with tire pressure and why does it smell like its burning oil? Oh, but wait, there's more: also, my Hashimoto's has decided to doubledown, the broken heel isn't healing properly, and I'm in early stages of glaucoma. My knees need to be replaced, which is weeks of being laid up, a ton of money, and while I refuse to admit it, I probably do have fibro.
I'm fucking things up because I'm just stretched too thin and the worst thing in the world for me is to feel that I've let people down. Right now that seems like that's the only thing I'm good at. Oh, did I mention that this has been the worst faire season ever, weather-wise and it's either rained or been hellishly hot every single day? Oh, except for the day of such torrential rain that we couldn't even open?
I periodically joke about being a modern day Job, except that there will be no God to apologize to me. I can't even make that joke right now. Guys, seriously, a mosquito just flew up my nose. I wish I had faith right now so that I could give God the finger.
Hells bells, my friends. A baby flicker was on my front steps this morning, just learning to fly. I tried to help it out (since the front steps is where MommaCat comes for breakfast). And it was having a hard time gripping with its right foot...and when it tried to fly, it just face planted and due to its big flicker bill, it literally was impaling itself on the ground. And I knew then, I knew, but I got a shallow box anyway, and put a towel in it to keep it dry and warm because the ground was cold and soaked, so that the strangeness of the box would fend off the cat, but not its parent, who was probably out there waiting to feed it. But it was too weak to even chirp. And I knew when I left for work what would happen and I repeated the thing I've said to so many people over the years: a pair of birds only needs two of its many offspring to grow to adulthood and reproduce, so yes, most of them are destined to be food for something else.
But oh, when I came home and it was cold and stiff in that box, I cried anyway. I bawled like a baby. All of my sadness and upset and weariness and overwhelmedness out in a flood of ugly, salty deluge. I cried for a thousand things. For women who are hated by men, for people of color and non-binary gender people who are hated for just existing. For people whose day to day life makes mine look like a cakewalk. And also, for me. Because your broken leg doesn't hurt any less just because someone else broke both.
I tell this story not for pity, not for seeking comfort, not for validation. I'll fucking get through it, I always do.
I tell this because: you can get through this too, whatever "this" is. Most people who know me would never imagine that I'd struggle with self doubt. That I'd be hanging onto the delight of fireflies like a goddamn liferaft. Yeah, well, it happens to the most capable of us. So don't you dare feel weak. Maybe you feel alone, maybe you don't have supportive partners, or enough friends. But you still have the wind rushing through the tree branches. Or fireflies. Or a yard full of bunnies. Or a cat that depends on you. Or that houseplant that thrives despite your neglect. Or a homeless person for whom your five dollars makes their entire day turn around. Maybe your compliment to that complete stranger, your letting that person cut in front of you in traffic was the thing that made them be able to hang in there one more day. Whatever you can find, you hang on to that. Hang on to that, my friend. Sometimes fireflies need to be enough.
no subject
Date: 2019-02-09 01:50 am (UTC)Last year was a Job year: sinus infections pretty much continuously for seven months, along with antibiotics. Finally had sinus surgery - again - in August, took another three rounds of antibiotics plus an antifungal course to get my head clear. I never fully appreciated that infection like that could screw with your brain. I lost a lot of muscle mass last year, it's going to take me a while to get it back. I went to the mall just an hour ago to talk to the GNC people about protein drinks - the store had up and closed. Guess I'll have to research it online.
Take care!