Birthday Week!

It's funny to me. Usually at the start of birthday week, I've done something birthday-ish  durin the weekend, like have a party, or go to Austin, or New York, or see Josh Groban in concert (he is on a lot of birthday celebrations. He's very accommodating that way, for a fake famous husband.). This is the first year that I am getting ready for show number two during the start of birthday week. I don't really dig having our choir shows during birthday week. I've expressed my disinterest once, and we're not doing it again. Really I think it throws everyone off a little bit. So it's not just to please me and my need for attention. 

I got the nicest compliment yesterday. I struggle privately with self-esteem. My body is something that I've come to love and I've come to appreciate after many, many years of not doing so. But I understand that to society, my body is not ideal. And as someone who is constantly afraid of letting other people down and being embarrassed and having people ignore or fade away from me because of who I am and how I dress and what I look like, that's a struggle for me privately. I try very hard to put a confident face out into the world, because I know that even if I don't see them, there are little girls out there who look like me and who struggle with what I struggle with who are needing confident older women to show them that it is not only OKAY to let your inner light shine as bright as possible, it is encouraged, it is appreciated, and it is beloved. So anyways. After our choir show last night, I changed back into the overalls I had on during the day so I could leave my show clothes at the arts center for today. These are just basic long overalls, rip near the knee, nothing special. But I was told so many times how cute I looked, and when I brushed it off (as I do because I have trouble accepting compliments), a friend of mine said "Have you met Ashley? She always looks cute. Like even in sweats she's adorable." Biggest compliment she could have given me. It made my day. Thanks Erin. 

Happy birthday week to me, and happy birthday week to Steph! I love you so!!!

Figured It Out

 I've figured it out. I was wondering why I was so stressed out this last week, and I couldn't think of as to why. It's the middle of October and I should not be this stressed out this much. I'm talking stress dreams every night, headaches, crankiness, etc. The good news is I know why now. The better news is that this should be the only year everything is squished together in this two week span. You see, a lot happens in my little world towards the end of October. Work gets crazy busy with Texas tax bills, baseball heats up with the postseason, especially stressful when my Red Sox are pitted against my family's Astros, and it's my birthday! So that's three things happening that require a lot of my brain power. This year, throw in show week. So take all the stress of a million tax bills, add a healthy dose of "How come we can't just beat teams consistently? Why must you try to make it interesting?", mix in planning birthday parties and figuring out how to give everyone a chance to celebrate with me, and then dump in logistics of show week: where people are standing, how they're exiting, how we need them to line up to get back on, how to make that as clear as possible so we don't get bombarded with the same questions over and over again on show day, how the Friday rehearsal is going to go, all the paperwork to make instructions clear, oh don't forget, practice your music, and remember where you're standing in 4 different groups. Work out mic switches, and do the tech people know about the mic for the narrator? How does that one part go, and why can I never get it? Do you know what you're wearing for show? Do you have everything you need? Remember life continues after Sunday, and it's your birthday week. Do you have everything you need for lunches and breakfast? What about your Halloween costume, and everything for your birthday party? If you had continued watching the game last night, would the Red Sox have won? Why can't our pitching hold it down? Why are all my friends either fans because I'm a fan, dramatic fools that won't talk about it, or rooting for the other team? 

This is my life right now, and it'll settle down and be fun, but right now, it's so much.

Nine

 On Friday, it had been nine years since I got that horrible phone call from my mom at 8 AM on a Monday morning. It changed my whole world around. I can only imagine what it did for your actual family. I was just your friend. Albeit a good friend, a dear friend, maybe a little more than just a friend, but not family. I only know what it's done to me. It took me years to be able to listen to songs that remind me of you. But this year, we're singing To Make You Feel My Love for our choir show, and I can sing it without sobbing, so I must be growing. The song you chose as our song is finally getting annoying as opposed to sweet, which is fitting. Only you would chose Come On Eileen as the song that reminded you of our weird little relationship, you friggin' jerk. Have you actually listened to the words of that song? They're ridiculous. But totally fitting to how your mind worked. 

I still talk to your brother on occasion. When the Red Sox and Yankees played each other for the wild card, I told him that we couldn't be friends for that day, and he said that we would always be friends. He's pushing really hard to have the person who did this to stay in jail. He wants everyone to write victim statements about how the last years have been since this terrible change. So far, it's worked as the person's parole was denied this year, but he wants everyone to keep writing. I'm going to be perfectly honest here, I don't think I can write what he wants me to write. I'm in a relatively good place. I no longer compare every man I meet to you. I'm reaching out, meeting new people, starting conversations. I'm happy. Writing a victim note seems cheating. My life changed on that day, but I've grown. I'm not the same person I was nine years ago, though it may seem like I am. I also don't know if we collectively have the right to stop this person from being able to grow as well. Yes, they did a terrible thing nine years ago, yes, they made a horrible mistake that caused a tragic accident. But if I can grow in nine years, why can't they? Does two lives lost garner the loss of a third? Should we not turn our cheeks again and again and again? Do they not deserve a second chance at life? I'm inclined to think they do, and I don't think, following in the footsteps of Jesus, that I can be part of the campaign to take that chance away. I think there are better ways to remember your life, and I think there are better ways you would want us to act. I could be wrong though. But this could be what severs our tie. He might not be able to understand why I can't and why I don't want to. I wish I could talk to you about it. He and I don't have the same openness we had. We have a superficial relationship, and I don't know how to deepen it. I think he's angry, but I don't know how to help him, or if he even needs or wants help. He's a mystery to me. Which is so funny because you so weren't. You told me so many things. Even things I didn't want to know or hear about, you told me. What would you be like today? Where would your life have taken you? I've lost so many friendships, would yours have been one of them? Would I text you on your birthday and that's it? So many unanswered questions, so many untrodden paths. Here's what I know. October 15 will always be a hard day for me. I am grateful for the love and friendship I had in you and for the friendship I have in your brother. This grief has made me stronger and more open to sharing the love I have for others. Drugs are real bad, and I will miss you every day, some days more than others. 

~AM