invited

 Way back in 2019, I wrote a post I called "please send the invite" (read it here). 

I've been thinking about invitations again a lot lately, and had some time to myself last night where I was able to sit down and ponder some feelings.

First, some history.

It is tradition, probably everywhere in the world, that on closing night of a theatrical production, the cast & crew will go out for a late celebratory meal.
In high school, they "went boozing". I never attended (though I was assured that no beer was ever actually present) because I had a strict curfew. The only after-strike party I attended was my junior year of high school, we went to JB's and I got to stay for about 30 minutes before my mom came to pick me up. I didn't have a phone to call her and ask stay later, and that was our pre-arranged time. So I sat in the booth and laughed and didn't order and went home.
In college, they made the 40-minute drive to the nearest Denny's and then came home late. I only went to one of those as well, even though I was involved in six productions in college, and I don't remember much about it except sleeping the whole way home and not feeling great about eating so much at midnight. Ha!
Our community theatre growing up didn't do a separate party - they would order pizza during strike. Part of that was just due to the fact that when your show starts at 8p and doesn't end til 11p, you're probably not done with strike until 2a and people aren't going out after that. Also, we didn't have a Denny's at the time, so everything was closed.

I've known for years that after productions at VT:L, cast & crew members would go and have fun after strike. I love that and I am so glad that people have such a good time together that they want to keep the feeling of the show for a couple more hours. However, I was never invited or told about it. I just heard about it after. And honestly, that didn't bother me because I have to stay later than everyone else to lock up anyway. Sometimes the next show is already coming in, and I supervise that. Sometimes I just have to hurry home to relieve my parents after they've been with Hannalyn for so long. And I love falling into bed after a satisfying strike. It feels so good.

Then last year, a girl approached me and asked why I never go with the cast to the after-party. I hemmed and hawed for a minute, and gave Hannalyn as my excuse before admitting that I'd never actually been invited to go. And I didn't want to intrude. My relationship with the cast & crew is different because of my role in the show as producer, I'm less involved and don't work one-on-one with everyone. The girl scoffed (yes, that word perfectly fits her reaction) and said that of course I was invited and then specifically invited me to the post-strike activities for that production. 

I felt . . . confused, honestly. And surprised. And after sitting in that for a bit, some gratitude started to creep in. 
I wasn't able to go, Hannalyn and Daniel were sick and I was needed at home, but I sincerely appreciated her and the specific invite just for me.

Since then, every time that girl has done a production (two or three more times), she has reached out to me individually either in person at the theatre or over text and asked me if I will be joining the group at Denny's. I am not sure that I can explain the feeling that comes every time she approaches me. It's happy and excited and flustered and bewildered and hopeful and... good.

Though, I admit that I still haven't ever gone. I always have some excuse - the next cast coming in, needing to stay to finish work, hurrying home to relieve babysitters, etc.

Someday I hope I'm brave enough to accept and go.

But man, in the meantime, that invitation means the world to me.

stream of consciousness

 I've been feeling the need to write again, though I've felt insecure in starting.

The past few years, when I've felt the need to write, I've done a post on social media and that has "scratched the itch" so to speak. 

But this time... there is a lot.

And it's not that I don't want people to read this, because I think that there is potential for inspiration from reading what others write (though I don't ever think of myself as inspirational), 
BUT
I'm not sure that there is enough cohesiveness for a concise social media post. (Not that social media has to be concise.)

Man. I get so bugged when I feel I have to clarify the clarifications of myself. :P I'm not sure why I do, honestly, but when I'm writing, I want to be clear. So.

Stream of consciousness it is. Even if it's confusing, or not inspiring, or just helps me get out some words. 

I need a release somewhere. This seems as good as anything else.

...

I haven't let myself really cry yet. I haven't had time. 

October was a beautiful month. So much fun, things went well in life and I felt optimistic and excited and good things. It wasn't perfect - I wanted to fight a couple of misconceptions about me, but didn't, and that was tricky to feel. But it was a wonderful month with adventures and peace.

Then November crashed into us. One thing after another seemed to happen from problems at the theatre, to issues at home, illness (on Hannalyn's birthday no less), unexpected worsening of my aunt's cancer diagnosis, a little hope as things seemed to get better, and then devastation at her loss. Then more sickness, and more busy-ness, and things happening at the theatre that just made me uncomfortable and had me questioning choices I make, which made me insecure and grumpy, and then more sickness again. 

Those three blissful days around Thanksgiving really were the bright spot in a whole month.
And three blissful days around Christmas.

And then sickness again (well, H was sick on Christmas but I was grateful we could still enjoy it, even if slower than usual), stress, feeling like I was falling short in multiple areas, very cruel attacks by satan on my emotional and mental health, and finally a new year... and nothing has stopped. One thing after another just seems to tip in domino row. We get "ok" and then something new, leading up to my cousin's death a couple days ago.

I want to write about my aunt and my cousin. My dad's sister and my dad's brother's youngest son. It's been a rough time for my grandma, especially because my grandpa's mind is basically gone and he cannot offer her support or even much of a listening ear. It's devastating. I want to write about them. It will happen soon.

A while back (aka 4 years ago HA), I wrote a post I called "Uncles" and I wrote about how much I love my uncles and how I know that any of them would do anything for me at any time. I truly have been so blessed. I had planned an "Aunts" post, but never got back to it. Now it's overdue.

Things I wish I had said, but didn't... people are right. It's hurts so much.

The other thing that hurts is feeling like I haven't been around for my family as much as I would have liked to. It's worse again being in a show right now - the guilt, especially around this death, is nearly overwhelming even though the show I am actively in does not actually impact my ability to be at the funeral. But the guilt is still there.

That's another story I need to write. Accepting this role came with a HUGE attack on me and I spent days in a fog, sick to my stomach, until I finally remembered that my temple recommend had expired. Then my despair at probably needing to wait for three weeks before doing anything about it because of my schedule at the theatre and the holidays, and the miraculous moment when I literally felt clouds of darkness being pushed from my mind and body as I made it very last minute into an interview and got my recommend renewed. It's a great story. ;) For another time...

Right now, I'm actually breathing a little easier and just feeling grateful for that. I meant to do much more complaining. Venting? Processing? Whatever the word is, I thought this would be a two-hour rant and so much more than anyone would ever want to read (including me). But actually, I'm already feeling a little better.

Still sad. 

Still hurt.

Still angry.

I'm angry that I probably won't be able to go to the funeral on Saturday. I haven't hired a "manager" at the theatre, because I do it. And because I honestly can't pay someone (heck, I can't pay myself) - at least not what I think they would want. And because who wants to work just six nights a month? That's such a weird schedule. But now it means that I have no backup, no plan, and it's impacting my ability to be with my family. 

Being a small business owner sucks. Sometimes.

So ... here I sit. Releasing all the words in my head into this small corner of the multi-internet-verse because I can't write it fast enough by hand and would end up scribbling it out in my haste. I can type much faster. I actually love that about myself. I love to write, and sometimes the physical writing is much more satisfying, but when I need the s p e e d . . . well. This is it. 

So if you're out there, reading this, thank you. I hope I haven't confused or bored you. I am not sure what you will have found in this word list that has kept you reading, but if you've made it this far, please know this:

God loves you. He truly does. And His peace is worth finding.

I pray you find it.