another weird thing

 today is Easter Sunday. I went to church, sang in the choir, it sucked, but you know, it always does. I've come to terms with our choir director, but the organist, a Carnegie Mellon trained musician, well, she's just calling it in. there is no emotion, no passion, no nothing. where are we going. our pastor has a great feel for the theatrics of religion and how it moves a heart to God, but he has nothing to work with. it's not that she doesn't have it, it's just that she doesn't work it anymore. I could. but they don't need me.

I thought we'd take easter dinner to my mother in law who is skittish to drive to our house. it was all arranged. and now, stepdaughter is lazy and does not want to bother and I'm so angry I can't speak or type or do anything at all. so I drank a lot of bourbon and I"m angrier still. who called her and said , sorry, I can't be bothered to keep the arrangements I made with you to make you feel loved. I guess I don't love you enough to get out of bed and make food to take to you to make you feel like family for Easter. I just can't be bothered. I couldn't do that.

what the hell was I thinking.

he's an odd little man. he's skinny and wiry, but with a beer belly. his balance is bad, he talks like he's drunk when he's not, and when he is he is completely unintelligible. and he talks with his mouth full of food. he stumbles. he's clueless. he can't remember anything.

he is a good man, but he has a brain injury. most of this is not his fault, but here I am all these years later wishing I had a normal man. one who could walk and talk and make love to me at age 60. one who could earn a living. one who knew about mortgages and taxes and the cable bill and what to do if a pipe broke. how to fix a car.

oh, wait. I had a man like that. I had a house and a car and two babies, but I cheated on him and he threw me out.  what was I thinking.

yeah, it changes but it's all the same

well, it might have been new. but it might have been just the same old bullshit after all. I was proud of my effort. I felt like I had succeeded at something important. but nobody cared. Nobody said thank you.

She said it was fine. It was what it needed to be. I'm sorry you were angry and disappointed that nobody needed you to play the service, but actually, I had never asked you to do that. You just assumed. Well, the conversation I had with the pastor several months ago included the part about if the organist is not available, you will be called next. She wasn't. I was there. Somebody decided something else and nobody told me. I assumed I was needed. I was not.

Therein is the current problem. I am not needed.  And I am not valued. And if I am valued, it is not in a way that means any damn thing to me.

My first husband used to tell me how much he thought about me and our son while he was driving his truck down the road and how much he loved us. But when he was home, he was either asleep or gone with his friends or drunk. He didn't spend any time with us showing us all that love, so I told him I didn't want to hear about it, it did not mean anything to me if it could not translate into actions.  I still think that. sometimes someone will say, well, we want you here. we need you here. but there is no useful work for me that I can see. the role I used to inhabit is filled. Even the backup role seems to be filled. It could all be done so much better if someone with a little skill could help out.

I am a classically trained musician with 50 years of experience. I am a published composer. My music resume includes a song that has been consistently performed by a band of some renown for nearly 20 years.  I can produce a new song or an arrangement with practically no notice. I can play both choir parts written on 4 staves and the accompaniment. I can play anything you put in front of me whether I have even heard it or not. Not to mention all the knitting.  I have raised 5 reasonably successful human beings. and it does not mean a thing to anyone, not even me.

I realize that if I can't find a way to love myself I am doomed. I will repeat again and again all the mistakes I've previously made until it kills me. But no money and no transportation and really, no will to live traps me as surely as if I were in a dungeon. I lack self-expression because I lack self. Without my parents and my church and the opportunity to perform, in this setting, I don't know who I am. When we were in Township and I could be Rowan, it did not matter, I could be whoever I wanted to be. Nobody judged me, not in my own home. But that's not where I am now. Now I live in a fucking commune that used to be my family home and now is not. I trap myself in my own room and I trap myself in my own head and nothing good comes of it, nothing at all.

things might be different now

I did a thing that I can be proud of. I spent a month playing the piano about 2 hours at a time a couple of times a day to learn the 20 pieces of music needed for the Lenten season and Easter, so I could play one single choir practice, and one Lenten service. This meant that I had to stay sober, and work at it, and I did. I played the practice like a fucking rock star, although it was cut short because the director had no confidence in me. the service had another pianist lined up because someone else had no confidence in me. my son says, be patient, people will gain confidence in you as they see you are reliable, that you show up on Sunday, that you show up on rehearsal day. That you do what is asked of you. Nobody knows about the drinking, they think it's my mental illness that hampers me. That is exactly why I told nobody. NO BODY about it in the past. or about my past addictions. or about the anti-depressants that were supposed to solve everything that didn't. or the therapy that was cut short by the insurance company so had no chance to work. it's why I let nobody in, never have.

So, tonight, I feel good about what I did. I worked at it, and I succeeded. That is a novelty. Now I know if there is a task given to me, I can stand up to it. I can come through. This is new.

and I know how you smell. and what your dick looks like, and you fingers. I know the texture of your hair. and how you married a friend of mine.

and I remember that yours is the biggest one I've ever seen. and how we went to New York City 9, count them 9 times. for like 3 or 4 days each time. and how you sneaked into my house at night after my kids were asleep for like 10 years.

I waited for you. for 11 years, I stayed single, waiting for my prince. and I don't care that you have a little dick, I only care that you love me every day. But finding out that you don't remember our wedding hurts me. that you have no special memories of that day crushes me.

I miss my dad. I think that's the problem. I wonder if I could have saved him. and if saving him could have saved my mom. I miss my mom. and my dad. and now I miss you too. because you are not who I hoped you would be from the beginning. you said, I hope you won't resent me for this, and I do. 15 years later, I totally do. you didn't give me a decent ring, and you didn't let me have a decent wedding. and last year, when I asked for a vow renewall, just something to have in my church, you said no. you thought it would cost you money so you said no. you are a dick. and so, I am drunk again.

it's really all about sleep. I can't. so I drink. years ago, that was the problem, that was the solution. so now, it's the same. so I quit. I quit for days. and what happens is that first I can't sleep. and then next I sleep very shallowly. and then, there are the nightmares. and after that, if I can get that far, there are dreams that I can't figure out.  and I haven't gotten past that for a few months now. I think I could deal with the rest of it if I knew I could sleep. should I ask for help? the last person I asked had me, oh take 10 trazadone if you want to. is that healthy? and I did sleep. but the deductible on the insurance  meant that I couldn't see her anymore, had no help anymore. it's still about sleep.

Feeling angry and discontent. feeling like nobody understands that as old friends fall away, I feel less and less like I know who I am. found out that the neighbors that share a garden with us, are also selling out and moving away. combine this with how I don't know how I fit at church anymore, and that I have no real life friends, I know that the past is now invalid. I need a future. I need new friends. I have new neighbors, and that might be a place to start. I wish, wish that I felt comfortable finding a new church also, one with a decent music program. one with a few members. one that didn't feel like it's dying. but then where is home?

I think the problem is that nobody needs me. if I decide to just sit on the couch and do absolutely nothing, nothing happens. nothing at all. nothing bad, nothing good. just nothing. if I do no laundry, well, neither does my husband, but he does not care if he stinks, he just wears the same clothes. son does nothing either. nobody pushes him, nobody pushes me either. nobody needs me, therefore my existence does not matter. I can keep on killing myself with bourbon if I want to. there is nobody to care.