The concert came and went but Ave the guitarist continued to feel as lonesome and restless as ever.
Their performance had been subspectacular. It was about a hair below mediocre. But most importantly, it was done.
She hadn’t given up, not even when she had to write the letters next to the notes on the sheet music to keep up with the other musicians. Not even when her custom ordered guitar hadn’t come. She marched up on that stage, trudged right along through every measure, well, maybe not every measure.
Ok so she skipped a few measures here and there. But she stuck it out and took a bow with the rest of them.
I’m not sure why i was writing about myself in third person but i’m going to stop that now.
This was a difficult project i undertook. The women i met were very supportive and wonderful. Everyone was. I wish it wasn’t so time consuming. I wish i was rich and could devote myself to all of my art projects without neglecting any.
I had planned on finishing my novel this year. But if i stay in chamber music, i won’t have time for that or to do the illustrations on a book my dad’s self-publishing.
If i let a lot of time go by between drawing or photo projects, i start to feel like i’m losing myself. The same thing happens when i go a couple weeks without giving any Bible classes.
But like i said, the ladies i played guitar with were so supportive and it’s hard to find people like that.
I recently texted an old friend. She wanted to hang out and said she’d check her calendar and get back to me. It’s been a week and a half. I think it’s safe to assume she can’t find her calendar.
Something similar happened with a childhood friend of mine who texted me in January to hang out in February. She never texted me when the time came, so i texted her a few weeks later and she never replied. I’m pretty sure she was drunk the first time she texted me back in January.
It’s hard for me to put myself out there and get met with rejection. I work in Sales so i’m rather used to it, but it’s not the same. I always try to act like it’s ok and it doesn’t matter. I just go on living my life as normal. Sometimes i hear the women in my congregation got together to do this or that and i feel bad because i get left out.
I get that no one really gets my sense of humor. Those who do get it already have their own tight circle; they don’t need new close friends. I’m somehow outside their comfort zone.
At least i have my husband, but he’s always asleep or on his phone or at the gym or at his parents’.
I guess i’m just not that fun to be around. Like on a fun scale i’d probably be just the scale, not even a number.
Tonight i called my mom to invite her to come conduct a Bible study with me. But she’s too busy. The other day she came to a nearby city to a baby shower. I was sort of jealous.
I can’t even remember the last time i was invited to a baby shower. The clothes are so cute, and the little shoes make me teary-eyed. I think i was eight.
I really don’t get it. I even texted this guy i’ve been trying to be friends with for like a year now, because we have a lot in common. The one i said was my soulmate. But that’s pretty much unilateral, as so many of my relationships are. As was the conversation.
He didn’t reply. I deleted his number. It hurts too much to reach out in the dark for someone and be ignored. Anyway, I was just trying to be nice. At least that’s what i thought i was doing.
But let’s revisit my childhood traumas for just a second. Our home was so very small and i was always in everybody’s way. I wanted to disappear. I started overdosing on over the counter painkillers.
That was fun.
When we lived in Mexico, the consensus in the congregation was that i was somehow holding my husband back. So i mixed the painkillers with cleaning liquids and eventually alcohol.
That wasn’t so fun.
The last time i did that, i was 32. My husband had stormed out of the house, angry about something. I was taking my heartrate as i downed the bottle. It was somewhere in the 30s.
Someone called me from a different congregation. She said i sounded weird. I told her i was alright. After hanging up, i put away the bottle.
My dad used to work as a cab driver and that lady was always calling me to ask if he could take her to the doctor’s. It was irritating and i ended up blocking her. But i think God used her that one time.
I never liked it that my dad worked as a cab driver and spent all that time alone with women passengers. It must have bothered me every night for about 23 years.
I don’t know how my mom could handle that. Perhaps i’m far too insecure.
The point is i was suicidal then, but i’m not now. And maybe most people around me never even notice i’m there, so it’s hard for me to part ways with my guitarristas, because they gave me the impression that they cared.
I guess i can always conjure up my imaginary ex-boyfriend. I wonder what he’s up to these days.