My life, my life, why have you abandoned me?
Today I woke up. That was a start. I had a stuffy nose, but not a headache. Another plus. But between printing out my materials for my audition later in the day and showering, I lost my sense of hope. And I started talking to myself.
I light of all the shit that has gone on in my life as of late, I have been surprisingly calm, despite my cronic anxiety attacks. Perhaps they will disapate after my last audition next weekend. Today I realized that I have started misplacing the blame for all the misunderstandings and simple mistakes I have been making. Dr. Rice seems to be oblivious to me or anything that I need for all these auditions, whereas I have not asked for attention. I have not made sure I am well enough prepared, I am not organized (despite the facade). I am internally shaken, not stirred.
I have this horrible habit of talking to myself now. I have conversations with the people in my mind (real people, although not physically present) about my issue of the day, and somehow, I catch myself talking randomly in public this way. Can I say, I have turned into my father? My new roommate told me when I moved in, my father (while left alone to his own devices) would speak to himself while doing whatever he was doing (building me a bed?). I remember hearing him during the summer from the backyard thinking he was talking to me, and getting "Never you mind" in response to questioning what he said. But seriously, I talk through situations, like if Randy and I ever were to speak again, I practice telling him off, or being super happy, or something comparable. Funny thing is, I feel like I would have to thank him for being like he was - cynical, selfish, overly critical, and untrusting. I would have never known what is was like to feel as horrible as I do now, which makes every sunny day, every good song on the radio that much better. I am free.
Today was not the best day. Yesterday, I felt as though I was loosing my confidence, like I had lost my will or drive to be a better singer. Today, I woke up with that. I cried my eyes out, even before I put makeup on, and then sucked it up. I sang in my audition better than I have in years. I felt free, open, and alive. It was the feeling, more so than the mediocre singing, that I will remember, and hopefully they will too, despite the fact that during my interview I started crying. How embarassing.
The sad part about my new life is that I know he is better without me. That somehow, he will have a better life, get along much more harmoniously with the world when I am not there. Granted I do also, but really, after everything I did to make his life easier, to make it more livable, how could he be fine without me? I am the one who can go from day to day and not have anyone know there is something wrong, someone who could get no sleep, cry and spend the night on the kitchen floor and get an A on a test the next morning, or sing an aria with ease and grace. He is the one who falls apart, drops out of school, and stays home from work because he drank far too much the day before. He is the one who drunk dials me to tell me what a bitch I am and then apologize. Instead, it is me falling apart, broken, yet still standing.
I need a vacation. From me. Please?
I light of all the shit that has gone on in my life as of late, I have been surprisingly calm, despite my cronic anxiety attacks. Perhaps they will disapate after my last audition next weekend. Today I realized that I have started misplacing the blame for all the misunderstandings and simple mistakes I have been making. Dr. Rice seems to be oblivious to me or anything that I need for all these auditions, whereas I have not asked for attention. I have not made sure I am well enough prepared, I am not organized (despite the facade). I am internally shaken, not stirred.
I have this horrible habit of talking to myself now. I have conversations with the people in my mind (real people, although not physically present) about my issue of the day, and somehow, I catch myself talking randomly in public this way. Can I say, I have turned into my father? My new roommate told me when I moved in, my father (while left alone to his own devices) would speak to himself while doing whatever he was doing (building me a bed?). I remember hearing him during the summer from the backyard thinking he was talking to me, and getting "Never you mind" in response to questioning what he said. But seriously, I talk through situations, like if Randy and I ever were to speak again, I practice telling him off, or being super happy, or something comparable. Funny thing is, I feel like I would have to thank him for being like he was - cynical, selfish, overly critical, and untrusting. I would have never known what is was like to feel as horrible as I do now, which makes every sunny day, every good song on the radio that much better. I am free.
Today was not the best day. Yesterday, I felt as though I was loosing my confidence, like I had lost my will or drive to be a better singer. Today, I woke up with that. I cried my eyes out, even before I put makeup on, and then sucked it up. I sang in my audition better than I have in years. I felt free, open, and alive. It was the feeling, more so than the mediocre singing, that I will remember, and hopefully they will too, despite the fact that during my interview I started crying. How embarassing.
The sad part about my new life is that I know he is better without me. That somehow, he will have a better life, get along much more harmoniously with the world when I am not there. Granted I do also, but really, after everything I did to make his life easier, to make it more livable, how could he be fine without me? I am the one who can go from day to day and not have anyone know there is something wrong, someone who could get no sleep, cry and spend the night on the kitchen floor and get an A on a test the next morning, or sing an aria with ease and grace. He is the one who falls apart, drops out of school, and stays home from work because he drank far too much the day before. He is the one who drunk dials me to tell me what a bitch I am and then apologize. Instead, it is me falling apart, broken, yet still standing.
I need a vacation. From me. Please?