Know When To Fold 'Em
Valediction
This would be a lot easier if I didn’t take Idol very seriously. But I do. Partially because I’m one of those people Gary mentioned in today’s green room who never really bothers to write for pleasure outside of the imposition of a topic and a deadline. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that life otherwise gets in the way, and Idol gives me a reason to rearrange my priorities. My husband, mamas_minion, is the same way.
Which is why it’s very hard to be throwing in the towel so early in the game. Even though I’ve never played to win, I play just to write, but clearly, bowing out on only the 5th prompt, having missed TWO of the others, means that I have already apparently failed even in that endeavor. And I actually paid for the opportunity this time. Not that it was much, but that just adds to the emotional punch to the gut that sticks in the craw. Especially since we’re not so well off that we didn’t feel it. But we pay for what we value, right? And this is worth it. It always has been.
If I didn’t care so much, if I was willing to half-assedly throw something together on the fly, and let the chips fall where they may, maybe we could stay. And if I was writing to win, and winning just meant to make sure I would stick around until the following week, one more time than everyone else, then maybe I wouldn’t care so much about what I write each week. But the things I write here - well, on LJ in general, not necessarily from this account, as I’ve only written two submissions and a few helpful public service entries since I just created it at the beginning of this season - they matter to me, and make a difference in my life, far longer than after Idol has moved on. So I can never just squeak by. And I can never just phone it in.
Last week, I wrote an entry that accurately represents who we genuinely are. It was a snapshot of us - a private moment in our lives that actually happened much as you see it there, now immortalized in this space. And I was quite pleased with it, and will be so happy to keep track of it, looking back on it for future reference, as a representation of just the kinds of nerds we are, how well we communicate, how in tune we are with one another, and how much we love each other, for years to come.
But I didn’t read a single entry from anyone else here during the whole voting period. I didn’t even update my spreadsheet. (Those of you know me are probably gasping in shock right now.) And that isn’t Idol to me. Idol, for me, is community. A kind of brethren of writers coming together to share a part of themselves with each other, in whatever form that presents itself. It’s a give and take. It has to be, or it doesn’t work. I feel like if I just put myself out there, for you to connect with, but I don’t connect to you, then I have only taken from you, and haven’t done my part to give back. And that isn’t who I am. It isn’t who my husband is.
I guess it must be showing, too. I’m rarely in the green room, but I thought I had connections here. I friended everyone either of us is attached to with our primary accounts, but so few have friended me back, I feel like a social leper.
And I would like to say I could do better next week, or from here on out, for the rest of this season. I really would, you have no idea. But the truth is, I just don’t have it in me right now. And neither does mamas_minion. We’re spent. We’ve been married less than three months now, and we’ve already faced enough challenges to sustain us in our quota of tests and trials for quite some time yet to come, I would hope. Our relationship is as strong and stable as it’s ever been, but our lives are just a little more chaotic than we would ever need for a while, and that is just a touch more chaos than we can handle right now.
Before we’d been married two weeks, we lost a family member. She was elderly, and had lived a good life. It was her time, and we were at peace with it. But we’ve just experienced another sudden loss, only this past week. A very unexpected one, in which a family member in her prime - who had been in what seemed like perfect health, and we’d always imagined would outlive us both - suddenly had to be hospitalized, and after a week of supportive care, was gone.
It still aches so bad some days I have trouble breathing. I can’t stop focusing on the loss of the future I thought we’d have together, and the hardest part is mourning the time we’ll never get now. People keep sending flowers, and I want to be grateful for their love and sympathy, I really do. And I’m sure in some way, I am, truly. Yet I can’t help but to look at them and be angry. Because I don’t want flowers. I want my family to be whole. I want her at home with me. I wanted my children to know her. I wanted her to know their children. Now that can never happen. And all I have is a house full of flowers, and a broken heart.
But I don’t have time to slow down. I barely have time to grieve. Mornings are hard, and evenings are hard, and I thought I could distract myself in between with telling stories and reading stories here. But my husband has hypertension and has been in and out of the hospital. I’m underemployed, he’s overdocked, and there’s just not enough hours in the day to work as much as is needed to cover us, and I’m afraid it’s killing him.
I’m not complaining. I’m not whining about my life and feeling sorry for myself. That’s not who I am. I’m just sad, and I’m stressed, and I don’t have anything left for you. I’m very sorry. But this has to be all from us. For now.
Good luck to you all. We still love you. Maybe we’ll see you around some time.
~karmasoup
This would be a lot easier if I didn’t take Idol very seriously. But I do. Partially because I’m one of those people Gary mentioned in today’s green room who never really bothers to write for pleasure outside of the imposition of a topic and a deadline. It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just that life otherwise gets in the way, and Idol gives me a reason to rearrange my priorities. My husband, mamas_minion, is the same way.
Which is why it’s very hard to be throwing in the towel so early in the game. Even though I’ve never played to win, I play just to write, but clearly, bowing out on only the 5th prompt, having missed TWO of the others, means that I have already apparently failed even in that endeavor. And I actually paid for the opportunity this time. Not that it was much, but that just adds to the emotional punch to the gut that sticks in the craw. Especially since we’re not so well off that we didn’t feel it. But we pay for what we value, right? And this is worth it. It always has been.
If I didn’t care so much, if I was willing to half-assedly throw something together on the fly, and let the chips fall where they may, maybe we could stay. And if I was writing to win, and winning just meant to make sure I would stick around until the following week, one more time than everyone else, then maybe I wouldn’t care so much about what I write each week. But the things I write here - well, on LJ in general, not necessarily from this account, as I’ve only written two submissions and a few helpful public service entries since I just created it at the beginning of this season - they matter to me, and make a difference in my life, far longer than after Idol has moved on. So I can never just squeak by. And I can never just phone it in.
Last week, I wrote an entry that accurately represents who we genuinely are. It was a snapshot of us - a private moment in our lives that actually happened much as you see it there, now immortalized in this space. And I was quite pleased with it, and will be so happy to keep track of it, looking back on it for future reference, as a representation of just the kinds of nerds we are, how well we communicate, how in tune we are with one another, and how much we love each other, for years to come.
But I didn’t read a single entry from anyone else here during the whole voting period. I didn’t even update my spreadsheet. (Those of you know me are probably gasping in shock right now.) And that isn’t Idol to me. Idol, for me, is community. A kind of brethren of writers coming together to share a part of themselves with each other, in whatever form that presents itself. It’s a give and take. It has to be, or it doesn’t work. I feel like if I just put myself out there, for you to connect with, but I don’t connect to you, then I have only taken from you, and haven’t done my part to give back. And that isn’t who I am. It isn’t who my husband is.
I guess it must be showing, too. I’m rarely in the green room, but I thought I had connections here. I friended everyone either of us is attached to with our primary accounts, but so few have friended me back, I feel like a social leper.
And I would like to say I could do better next week, or from here on out, for the rest of this season. I really would, you have no idea. But the truth is, I just don’t have it in me right now. And neither does mamas_minion. We’re spent. We’ve been married less than three months now, and we’ve already faced enough challenges to sustain us in our quota of tests and trials for quite some time yet to come, I would hope. Our relationship is as strong and stable as it’s ever been, but our lives are just a little more chaotic than we would ever need for a while, and that is just a touch more chaos than we can handle right now.
Before we’d been married two weeks, we lost a family member. She was elderly, and had lived a good life. It was her time, and we were at peace with it. But we’ve just experienced another sudden loss, only this past week. A very unexpected one, in which a family member in her prime - who had been in what seemed like perfect health, and we’d always imagined would outlive us both - suddenly had to be hospitalized, and after a week of supportive care, was gone.
It still aches so bad some days I have trouble breathing. I can’t stop focusing on the loss of the future I thought we’d have together, and the hardest part is mourning the time we’ll never get now. People keep sending flowers, and I want to be grateful for their love and sympathy, I really do. And I’m sure in some way, I am, truly. Yet I can’t help but to look at them and be angry. Because I don’t want flowers. I want my family to be whole. I want her at home with me. I wanted my children to know her. I wanted her to know their children. Now that can never happen. And all I have is a house full of flowers, and a broken heart.
But I don’t have time to slow down. I barely have time to grieve. Mornings are hard, and evenings are hard, and I thought I could distract myself in between with telling stories and reading stories here. But my husband has hypertension and has been in and out of the hospital. I’m underemployed, he’s overdocked, and there’s just not enough hours in the day to work as much as is needed to cover us, and I’m afraid it’s killing him.
I’m not complaining. I’m not whining about my life and feeling sorry for myself. That’s not who I am. I’m just sad, and I’m stressed, and I don’t have anything left for you. I’m very sorry. But this has to be all from us. For now.
Good luck to you all. We still love you. Maybe we’ll see you around some time.
~karmasoup