holliday

Fear not, fellow travelers...there isn't anything 'wrong.'

I've just been tripping around in the spiderwebs of historical thinking...

It's funny (and annoying, quite frankly) the way one memory strings me along to another...

My health gives me shit and I'm reminded of an abusive boyfriend...and a promise to myself I didn't uphold.

The promise reminds me of the moment in my life I made it...which strings me along to my mother...

I spent a fabulous day in the mountains at a car show and a Dick Dale concert which inspires my friend to pick up his guitars...but only serves to remind me of why I don't play music anymore...

I'm reminded of how passionate I was about music, and talented, if I dare say...but how when my mother told people I was taking lessons, she didn't say, she's taking lessons, she said, "She wants to be a rockstar." And then laughs...

Y'know...that might seem funny to her, but it undermined something I loved and it hurt.

Which strings me along to all the OTHER things I had loved and she undermined.

All the piano recitals and soccer games she didn't come to.

The soccer awards dinners I had to pirate rides to. Not because she even had plans like usual, but because she just couldn't be bothered.

Did you know I played the violin too?
But mom wouldn't bring me to school early enough for rehearsals so often, that the one time I DID show up, the instructor said, "Oh, look who decided to join us this morning..." I quit soon after.

Or the school plays I was in...when not only did she not come to the performance, but she didn't give me money to attend the cast wrap party...and I was left sitting in the hallway waiting for my ride (who had the lead, what a great voice she had...) listening to all the laughter and fun going on inside.

Or the ballet recital when I'd hinted about wanting flowers afterwards...and instead she threw a bouqet in my face on the ride there with a laugh and said, "By the way, you were great!"

Or my second year in all county choir...oh , yeah, you didn't know I could sing too?
After a year of giving up lunch time and after school to rehearse, I was all dressed and excited and ready to go meet my 'team.' She refused to bring me because my room wasn't clean. Which I suppose could be a reasonable requirement, if I'd been notified beforehand... Instead, there I was, with my team waiting and no way to get there. They went on without me...and I never sang in choir again.

Or when I'd asked to go to gymnastics camp...oh yeah, you didn't know I was a gymnast too? Pretty good, I might add. I was probably the only kid who liked when PE came around to gymnastics.
The teachers always used me as an example and I got to be special for a moment.
When the other kids were struggling with cartwheels, I was off in the corner learning to do aerials (no handed cartwheels).

We'd gone to visit her friend's daughter at HER gymnastics camp...and I was SO in love...I begged but she said no. That summer, at the sleep away camp she DID always send me to, the counselor who taught gymnastics asked me if I'd ever thought of going pro. Yes, I had been that good.

I'll never forget that feeling...of being recognized for my potential...and at the same time, that sinking feeling of knowing it's just not possible for reasons out of my control.

It's this funny thing that happens when I meet new people.
In just about any situation I can say I did that once...
People are amazed at the amount of things I've stuck my hands into.
I suppose it inspires them...

But for me, it just reminds me of all the things I could have been.

Now don't get me wrong...it's not like I don't LOVE being a muse to people...
I just sometimes wonder when, or if, my own time will ever come.

Over the years I've worked at reclaiming some of these things...only to find my heart just broken about it.

The most heartbreaking thing for me to see is how hard I tried as a kid to express myself creatively and passionately...only to be allowed to do it long enough to love it, and then have it taken away.

I can't help but wonder if I'd been allowed to study gymnastics...or guitar...or violin...or voice...or acting...or soccer...or ANYTHING...to the degree I had wanted to, if maybe...just maybe, I wouldn't have ended up so stifled that I felt the only way to release was cutting myself, or starving myself, or using so many drugs.

True, I'm free of those things now...but the space it left behind is still empty.
Except for the inspiration I serve for other people.

Maybe that's my destined role?
To walk through people's lives for a moment...just long enough to inspire them to do what they love...and then disappear...leaving extraordinary people in my wake, but never becoming extraordinary myself.

I'll die someday...half a shadow of the person I could have been.
Just something you saw out of the corner of your eye once...but couldn't really be sure...