Well. I signed up for a book club and that went well, and pole dancing almost two years ago worked out, but tonight I tried to attend a writers group for the first time….and I got all the way there and freaked out and left before I got in too deep to bail.
I thought I could handle it, but idk, it was a mixture of things. One I was very very very anxious to go meet absolute strangers and let them read and critique my book that I care a slight bit about. Two it was at a public library I’ve never been to and I wasn’t 100% on the location, the MeetUp app said the cafe, which I took to mean the room with five vending machines and a few hospital waiting lounge style tables and chairs. It was called the Cup and Chaucer, which I thought was cute. And like, okay I’m in the C and C right when the group is supposed to meet and there’s a larger group of people sitting together that I take to be the writing group, but it throws me because there’s way more people present than the app said so like what if I’m wrong???
And, to be honest, there wasn’t an open spot left at their table.
Boy if there’s one thing I have a strange complex about, it’s that. Like oh cool I’ll just be the awkward feeling douchebag thanks everyone who can clearly see there’s no room for me but I guess it’s not registering because it doesn’t concern them. Ahhhh
So I bailed. I was so proud of me for trying, my husband was too. He was obviously cool about it when I got home and said he would go with me next month if necessary, which is sweet but I feel would look insane.
Then I felt so anxious when I got home I took an anxiety nap. Where you aren’t tired but you need to feel warm and cozy and secure in the dark, and my bed is just a symphony of luxurious textiles so it’s pretty soothing. I woke up to eat Taco Bell my husband brought home because I bailed last minute on the idea of cooking dinner. It was a night for bailing.
But then after eating I fell back asleep. I woke up around midnight.
Usually I’d be very distressed to be up at this time on a Friday morning, as I usually work at 6am, but I’m off of work tomorrow and Monday. Today marks my five year wedding anniversary. It’s been an interesting fucking five years, I’ll give him that. Lol it’s not that I don’t love him or feel like he loves me, but as my therapist says if only love were enough.
We’re going away. Just to a small resort on a small lake on the western coast of my state. It was built in the 1930s. Three nights, home on Monday back to work on Tuesday. But for one long weekend we’ll hang out in an apartment with a view of the lake and chill and read and fuck and smoke weed and hike and eat and drink. I’ll probably post pictures. This is exciting. We didn’t go on a honeymoon, the New Year’s Eve after our wedding we spent the holiday in Chicago but honestly that trip suuuuucked and as much as I love that city, not in winter. And to be honest we have never gone on a vacation like this together. All we’ve done in our time together is overnight stays at hotels super near to where we live, Shakespeare behind bars twice, his family reunion at a resort on a lake in Indiana about five times, chicago three times together, and day trips to nearby cities in Michigan. That’s over ten years. Then he and I have gone on a few solo things, him much more than me. Mostly camping with his friends which I am more than happy to miss.
So even though I bailed real good on the writing group, I’m still in a good mood because this should be a fun weekend. I’m editing my book by sight once and by hearing once then I think it’ll be ready to publish. Eeeeeeeeee.
Also it’s about to be a fun relaxing weekend NOT doing the same shit at home.
I also have to get up in five hours to go to the credit union and two grocery stores before we leave at 11am. Not to mention do the packing. Ahhhhhh.