the-ball-i-dropped

If you haven’t caught on by now, this is not one of the most upbeat blog thingies to link up with.

But it’s so much more real than “Cinco de Mayo” with pictures of mayonnaise in sinks and guffaws from people who haven’t seen that picture seventy-five times in the last five years. Or some upbeat, uplifting post suggestions. I like being a little dark because I – as a person – am a little dark. I would love to be 100% full of love and light but since I haven’t managed that yet, you get to learn about one of the many ways I’ve dropped the ball in my life.

One of the things I want more than anything is friends. I love having friends. I love talking to people about my life and listening to people talk about theirs.

The people in this town I live in that I adore own businesses and get things done. They are women that I respect and think are absolutely fantastic. I wanted to be friends with them.

Come to find out there was an open board position for a local park district and one of the people thought I would be perfect for it. I was very sick at the end of last year (two emergency room visits, one urgent care visit, I was messed up physically) but still showed up and got elected to the board.

I was ecstatic. I felt so happy to be part of something. Unfortunately, between being sick and the board position putting me in charge of social media (which spikes my anxiety disorder like you wouldn’t believe) I completely failed in participating at all and ended up curled in bed, unable to do anything, and had to have my husband call to say I would not be able to participate.

Really, I was absolutely pathetic. I couldn’t make myself move. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.

I finally slinked away from the Facebook page of the organization just yesterday. It was with shame and a heavy heart I removed myself as an admin. As I realized how badly I had failed these people I had hoped would become my friends. Or at least acquaintances. Or at least just get to know. These were people I wanted to help.

It was like I finally got my chance at being a fabulous board member of a fabulous organization and be THAT MOM … the one who does things and volunteers and is part of something. The housewife who is on a committee and does things for the community. The person I’ve always dreamed of being. Well, one of the versions of the person I’ve always dreamed of being, anyway.

Instead I completely blew it and I’m embarrassed to show my face at the Farmer’s Market because I am such an utter failure.

I sabotaged myself. Not on purpose…I mean who sabotages themselves on purpose, right? I just can’t live right. I can’t be the person I want to be. I can’t interact and make things happen and just follow through. I can’t breathe and want to hide under the bed. I want so badly to smile and participate and be …. human…normal….average.

I wish I could do it all over again and not botch it all up so horribly.

But that’s the thing about dropping the ball. You don’t always get a chance to pick it back up and give it another try. Sometimes you drop it and it’s lost in the tall grass and you have no idea where to find it again.

Even worse, what if you did get a chance to do it again? Would you just make the same mistakes again?

Axis of Ineptitude

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17 Comments on The Ball I Dropped

  1. Ah your human-ness… it makes me feel so comforted… THANK GOD I’m not the only one who has done something to make her want to hide in a cave for eternity…

    Ya know – as I read, I thought – welp, it’s all good, the energy of that situation just wasn’t aligned with JennyDecki… and that’s cool because when stuff like this happens, I believe it’s our deeper knowing helping us out of something that probably actually wasn’t a good fit.

    Not sure exactly why I’m offering up that *ahem* wisdom… but… there you go.

    Thank YOU for putting yourself out there and making the rest of us remember that we’re all human… and normal… ish…

  2. I love this post – it is actually so much better to me than all the ones talking about how they are super-mom. I drop the ball all.the.time. I so relate to everything you wrote.

  3. Drop the ball? Heck, at least you picked it up! That thing would have suffered past my Feet and into the tall weeds where I never found it again. Although on a good day, If at least have noticed enough to say “what was that?” πŸ˜‰

    • Yeah but you go to church every week. You have a thing you do that you’re part of. That’s a ball you have firmly held on to for a long time, no?

      • There was a time when I had stopped going to church altogether. Some balls you don’t get to pick back up, some you do. What you see in me is refusal (str juggle) to let that ball drop again.

  4. It’s hard, I know, but don’t be embarrassed to show your face around town. It didn’t work. You were ill. So many factors went into play. Let it be now. You’ve written it out and gotten it out, so now you can move past it and stop kicking yourself about it. Hugs!

    • That’s seriously sage advice. Let it be. I might listen to that song a few times to let it sink in. You’re totally right. Avoiding people won’t make it any better. I just hate being a failure SO much and I feel like it’s written on my face or something in neon! LOL

  5. Oh gosh, can I relate to this! (I think most of us can.) Here’s my take on it: You gave it a shot, which is more than most people would do. You don’t know until you try things what situations are good or bad for you. In the future, if you want to try again, you can make sure that the tasks that set off your anxiety aren’t part of the job. There’s NO SHAME in that — we are all human! Hold your head up high, my friend.

    I used to feel like something was wrong with me because I avoided parties, and the telephone. It took me years to accept that my hearing loss is a part of me that’s not going away; now instead of feeling embarrassed that I decline invitations and take jobs/volunteer activities based solely on whether I have to use the phone, I accept that it’s just who I am. If people look down on me because of it, fuck ’em.

    I hope that writing about it was cathartic — I find it usually is. I bet you catch the next ball with finesse! πŸ™‚

    • I want to be more like you where I’m on the other side and have the understanding and comfort that hindsight bring! You are in an extreme situation (in my opinion) because who would judge you for not wanting to be on the phone or at a party with a hearing loss issue? Seriously? Anyone who does that is legitimately a bad person.

      Writing about it wasn’t cathartic. I was scared to publish it, I still feel awful about it. The comments are a totally different story, however. They’re helping like you wouldn’t believe!!

      (hugs)) Thank you. I’m so glad I know you.

  6. We all drop balls! One of the things I liked about this prompt is that it challenged us to share our failings and know we are not alone. I wish this was a ball that you could pick up but next time you may be able to. That said, anxiety disorders are real and you can’t be so hard on yourself. I am sending you hugs.
    Traci

  7. I wonder the same things sometimes: if I had the chance to do some of my life over, would I do it the same way? Part of me says, “NO WAY!” I’d totally go to a different college and move away from my parents and be courageous enough to audition for more theater. The other part of me says, “Well YES,” because what I went through and the choices I made got me where I am today. There’s no right answer to this question. And I totally should have gone to London the time I earned a free trip. Dang it.

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