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Dec. 1st, 2008 09:23 amI. HATE. DECEMBER.
This morning I opened Sadie's lunchbox to pack her school lunch and found every healthy item I packed for her to eat backstage yesterday UNTOUCHED. The sandwiches that I cut the crusts off so she would eat every bite and not leave a mess. The apple. The slices of cucumber and ranch dressing that she ASKED FOR. And because backstage is a peanut free zone these are sandwiches that aren't really edible if you leave them in a warm lunchbox overnight.
This isn't a big deal on the grand scheme of things, even though we were backstage from 10:00 a.m. until 7:30 p.m. and that healthy food was supposed to have represented two actual meals which she did not otherwise get. But a whole lot of things that aren't big deals conspired against me yesterday to the point where I'm sure the first three rows could see I was actually crying onstage during the Waltz of the Flowers. The missing costume. The dressing room-mate who took offense at something I said or did in reaction to her trying to spray the gray out of my hair.
I know she was only trying to help. I don't even know what exactly she took offense to because I wasn't thinking about her; I was thinking about my makeup and my kids and my costumes and my sore foot and I really didn't even want a person right in my personal space remarking that she really noticed yesterday how the white hairs were picking up the lights.
Other people might be able to be gracious. Other people might be able to be tactful. I am not Other People. It takes me a huge effort to avoid being completely socially inept. Even when I try I usually say something stupid. Yesterday I was not trying to the point I didn't even realize she was offended until I noticed her acting cold to me. And then I fell apart and it all got worse from there.
It took two ativan just to get through the day, and I had to be pulled from two pieces in the second act of the second show. I wasn't dancing anything like my best; I was furious with Jon for not believing me when I said he didn't have my weight over my leg properly in the partnered bit at the beginning of flowers. Because it hurts, and that foot already was hurting.
Then the woman who was acting mad at me earlier was the one who had time to trim a replacement costume so I wouldn't be NAKED in the second act, and I couldn't manage to be properly gracious about that either because I was still so mad at myself for misplacing the first one and frustrated becuase the replacement didn't fit well and of course distracted by the whole sorry business and consequently not dancing my best.
And then when I tried to apologize to her and explain that it wasn't personal, the response I got was that I should expect things will not always go right. As in, grow up and deal with it.
No, really? Oh, I feel much better. Because if I could DO THAT I wouldn't be sitting here CRYING, but thank you for pointing out how simple the whole thing is so that I feel REALLY inadequate.
See how it snowballs? And I look at it today and of course it IS all my stupid fault and then I hate myself for not being more even-keeled and adaptable and then I remember it's December and the next three weekends are going to be just like this last one except with less daylight.
And I'm crying over an LJ entry instead of working on a transcript that's due later today, because my brain is obsessing over this miserable weekend and how mean I was to Sadie this morning when I realized she hadn't eaten anything. I know she'll live. But I wanted her to understand that I had put myself out to make sure she had food, and the fact that she hadn't touched it made me feel as if I'd wasted my time. Because she doesn't get to be a little kid, oh no. I have to dump two generations of guilt on her so she'll grow up just like me.
And the fact that I only write here when I feel like this means that everyone who reads this journal thinks I'm unbalanced.
I'm going to eat some chocolate and take comfort in the fact that it's been months since I last wrote anything substantive in here.
There may yet be hope.
This morning I opened Sadie's lunchbox to pack her school lunch and found every healthy item I packed for her to eat backstage yesterday UNTOUCHED. The sandwiches that I cut the crusts off so she would eat every bite and not leave a mess. The apple. The slices of cucumber and ranch dressing that she ASKED FOR. And because backstage is a peanut free zone these are sandwiches that aren't really edible if you leave them in a warm lunchbox overnight.
This isn't a big deal on the grand scheme of things, even though we were backstage from 10:00 a.m. until 7:30 p.m. and that healthy food was supposed to have represented two actual meals which she did not otherwise get. But a whole lot of things that aren't big deals conspired against me yesterday to the point where I'm sure the first three rows could see I was actually crying onstage during the Waltz of the Flowers. The missing costume. The dressing room-mate who took offense at something I said or did in reaction to her trying to spray the gray out of my hair.
I know she was only trying to help. I don't even know what exactly she took offense to because I wasn't thinking about her; I was thinking about my makeup and my kids and my costumes and my sore foot and I really didn't even want a person right in my personal space remarking that she really noticed yesterday how the white hairs were picking up the lights.
Other people might be able to be gracious. Other people might be able to be tactful. I am not Other People. It takes me a huge effort to avoid being completely socially inept. Even when I try I usually say something stupid. Yesterday I was not trying to the point I didn't even realize she was offended until I noticed her acting cold to me. And then I fell apart and it all got worse from there.
It took two ativan just to get through the day, and I had to be pulled from two pieces in the second act of the second show. I wasn't dancing anything like my best; I was furious with Jon for not believing me when I said he didn't have my weight over my leg properly in the partnered bit at the beginning of flowers. Because it hurts, and that foot already was hurting.
Then the woman who was acting mad at me earlier was the one who had time to trim a replacement costume so I wouldn't be NAKED in the second act, and I couldn't manage to be properly gracious about that either because I was still so mad at myself for misplacing the first one and frustrated becuase the replacement didn't fit well and of course distracted by the whole sorry business and consequently not dancing my best.
And then when I tried to apologize to her and explain that it wasn't personal, the response I got was that I should expect things will not always go right. As in, grow up and deal with it.
No, really? Oh, I feel much better. Because if I could DO THAT I wouldn't be sitting here CRYING, but thank you for pointing out how simple the whole thing is so that I feel REALLY inadequate.
See how it snowballs? And I look at it today and of course it IS all my stupid fault and then I hate myself for not being more even-keeled and adaptable and then I remember it's December and the next three weekends are going to be just like this last one except with less daylight.
And I'm crying over an LJ entry instead of working on a transcript that's due later today, because my brain is obsessing over this miserable weekend and how mean I was to Sadie this morning when I realized she hadn't eaten anything. I know she'll live. But I wanted her to understand that I had put myself out to make sure she had food, and the fact that she hadn't touched it made me feel as if I'd wasted my time. Because she doesn't get to be a little kid, oh no. I have to dump two generations of guilt on her so she'll grow up just like me.
And the fact that I only write here when I feel like this means that everyone who reads this journal thinks I'm unbalanced.
I'm going to eat some chocolate and take comfort in the fact that it's been months since I last wrote anything substantive in here.
There may yet be hope.
