It is hard to blog when you are trying only to blog about positive things. It's not that I don't have positive things happening to me. I do. I have a good job, a loving husband, a happy child, a roof over my head and food to eat. I am living a life that many people strive for, and yet, there is a part of me that feels lost.
I no longer do theater. It's my choice. My daughter is doing theater and she is much more successful at it then I ever was. But the first theater company I helped build is turning 25 this year and no one there even remembers my name. I have a few friends who still work there, who actually work there because I brought them in. But there are no pictures, no reminders that some of those early stepping stones they walked up came from being able to rest on my shoulders.
The second theater turned 5 this year and is having a big performance this week celebrating its 5th year. There was a newspaper article that mentioned every one who helped build it...every one but me. And the truth of the matter is, that theater would not be there without me. When the other 2 directors took month long vacations, I kept the theater in the news and kept pumping out the shows. It would have died in its tracks several times without my ability to pull things out of my ass. I knew when I left that I would be forgotten within weeks, and I knew they were petty, petty people who had a heap of entitlement and very little reality. I knew that I would never receive recognition for my hard work, BUT, I am still angry. I tell myself it was CountryTime so what do I expect? No one there remembers, but I do.
We also have an issue with a drunken neighbor who has been bringing his dog into our fenced yard and throwing his ball against our house at 11PM. Sometimes he doesn't even bring his dog. Every time we catch him just a little bit closer to our 13 year old daughter's window and it has completely destroyed my sense of security that I finally had regained after moving here. We have called the police and I actually flung open my window to yell at the man. That one act, the act of yelling, has harmed me more than anything else. All my life I have wanted to be able to speak up for myself. To be loud and aggressive. Not reality show aggressive, but able to make my needs known aggressive. I have repeating nightmares where I try to scream and nothing comes out but I wake up with this intense pressure in my chest, as if the pressure alone silenced my ability to make a sound. In my life I don't raise my voice...ever. I speak intently. I can show my anger to my husband and daughter. But to actually YELL at a person physically hurts me. I had the same pressure and inability to get sound out awake as I did sleeping the night I yelled at our drunken neighbor. I shook and went in to a blind rage and if I had a gun, the man would be dead. That's a scary thought.
This anger, and my inability to express it, has left me lost. I feel unable to write. Unable to sing. Unable to do much more right now than just ride this anger out. It seeps into my sense of self, my security, my self-esteem. It leaves me gasping for air and struggling to put one foot in front of the other. I....AM....FURIOUS!!!!
So forgive me as I once again use my blog to vent. I struggle to say these things in real life, but I need to say them. I need someone to hear me. I need to know that all my hard work meant something. That drunken neighbors 5 feet from my house ARE dangerous and I am not just crazy from my time in CountryTime. I need to unlock this self-inflicted pressure on my chest and scream that I AM HERE!!!!! I AM WORTH MORE THAN THIS!!!! I AM ALLOWED TO BE ANGRY!!!!
I need to find my way home.