The Year that was 2015

It was almost a year ago to the day when I last wrote this blog.  Meaning it was the day before the anniversary of my father’s death. I’m not sure why I seem to pick the saddest time to choose to write this blog and reflect about what’s going on in my life.  I suppose depression has something to do with it.  

As Thanksgiving approaches, the holiday blues start to creep in.  Last year marked 30 years that my father passed away. And I thought that was particularly tough.  I had no idea that this year would be even more difficult. This year was a tough one in general, but this November things have been even harder to cope with.  Earlier in the month a friend of mine passed away. He wasn’t even 40 yet. He was taken away from this life so soon. Death in itself is already hard to deal with, but when such a beautiful spirit is taken so early in their life it awakens an additional set of emotions in those left behind. This is the second person this year in my circle of friends who passed way so very young. It’s really wreaking havoc on my emotions.

In addition to my friend’s untimely death, someone very close to me is suffering a life threatening illness. And although they are taking measures to fight this illness and they have an amazing attitude about it, it still rocks me to the core that they are going through this. I want to do something to make this who situation better, to fix it. But it’s not within my power to fix it. I feel helpless. All I can do is offer good thoughts and my constant prayers.  They’ve recently been such of source of strength and support that I never expected. It was nice to have someone say that they are on your side when you’re suffering. Offering encouraging words when they know you are hurting. Constantly reminding you that they think you’re smart and capable when you feel stupid and useless. It means the world to me when they like something on my Facebook, or comment on it.  They are giving me the constant reminder that they are there for me, no matter what. So now they’re going through their situation, all you can do is send them texts to check on them. Or send them a message that I’ll be there if they need me, even if I don’t know what to do. And remind them that I am praying for them...it doesn’t feel like enough. And as the anniversary of my father’s death approaches, this helpless and sad feeling seem to be magnified. I just want to fix it. I can’t. I want to do whatever I can to make them happy and encourage them the way they’ve encouraged me. But I feel like everything that I do falls short. 

A little while ago, someone else who I was very close to, who I considered a good and close friend said something to me that was so hurtful. And since they haven’t spoken to me since, I’m under the impression we are no longer friends. I had just returned from vacation and I had a particularly rough couple of days upon my return home. I checked in with this person because I hadn’t been able to contact them as soon as I got home, due to some electronic difficulties. An incident that happened while I was in the process of contacting them bled into my tone of my communication. They picked up on my somber tone. When they asked me what was up, I told them about the incident. Their reaction to my comment about the incident seemed less than friendly. And then they accused me of only contacting them to complain or to vent to. They prefaced that statement to say they considered me to be a dear friend. That hurt. For those who know me really well, they know it takes a lot for me to reach out when I’m upset. I’m not good at hiding my emotions at all. But admitting to the fact that I’m upset and actually spelling it out is difficult for me. I’ve spent the majority of my life listening to my friend’s problems and trying to be there for them. I’ve always felt like my issues or woes weren’t really all that important when someone else was hurting. So when this person basically accused me of being a crappy friend that only complains and vents, it hurt me. It was just another thing in a string of bad incidences that just made me feel awful.  After that I felt like nothing I could say could fix that so I didn’t bother reaching out again after that.  That person has never spoken to me again and it saddens me. Accusing me of being bad friend, or not caring about their feelings, is a big slap in the face to me.  I may not be great at a lot of things, but I thought being a friend was the one thing I was good at. 

It seems this year has really put me through the ringer. One thing after another seems to have gone wrong. Don’t get me wrong in the grand scheme of things, my issues aren’t as serious as things others are going through. But I have to say it’s been truly a struggle for me this year.  I’ve spent months watching things at my job deteriorate and break me down. I had spent a year dealing with a coworker who at first I thought was just difficult to get along with, but ultimately found out he was insane. So insane that when he was fired, I was really concerned that he was going to come back and kill me. I had to be escorted to my car because other people had the same concern for me. Once he was let go I thought things might improve, they didn’t. I watched my boss’s manager slowly chip away at my self-worth and morale, by taking away my technical duties and reducing me to a secretary. Instead of troubleshooting an email issue or a network connection problem, which I had done pretty successfully for over a year here, I was told to order dinner for moves or book a conference room for a meeting. And there was no explanation for that. For someone who has done technical and desktop support for 16 years, it was demoralizing and depressing. The only way to get through it was to just call this my day job and not my career and just keep working until I could find something else better. 

When I thought things couldn’t get any worse, I was diagnosed with a bleeding nodule on my vocal cord due to acid reflux. I was instructed by a doctor to immediately stop singing, go to speech therapy, go on a very restrictive diet and make a bunch of lifestyle changes which turned my life upside down. The one thing that I do, that made me happy, that made me feel like I was truly something, that I was good at, I was told I couldn’t do. Singing was my life and my emotional release. There was a strong possibility I might not ever be able to do it again.  I can never truly express how incredibly awful this was for me. I stopped leaving my house for anything except work, doctor’s appointment and errands. It was hard. I was broken. My husband was the one who got me through that. He dragged me out of the apartment. He did whatever he could to keep my spirits up.  He encouraged me to take burlesque class so I could figure out ways to perform while my voice was in recovery. In many ways he saved my life. Eventually I recovered enough to return to the stage and for that I’m truly grateful.

So when I thought I was getting things back on track with my life, I took another blow in the office.  I overheard a coworker say a bunch of things about me that was so awful. She trashed my body, she said I was too fat to do burlesque, she said that no one would ever want to see someone so fat on a stage. She said that I only dress in the retro clothes because I couldn’t fit into regular clothes because I was so big.  She said all this in the restroom and I happen to be in the stall when she said it, she didn’t know I was there.  To say that I was hurt and angry would have been an understatement. I didn’t confront her right then and there. I let her and the person she was chatting with leave and I stayed behind to collect myself. At some point I walked to my car and cried. I took a few hours to calm down and eventually I took action. I typed a letter, that I didn’t sign, explaining that I had heard everything she said. I mentioned that I thought it was interesting that that I was the topic of her discussion. And I was sorry that she was offended by my body type. I further explained that there was a large group of people that would disagree with her statement about my body and the burlesque stage. I finished up by cautioning her against making statements like that in such a public place, because you never know when someone could have a recording device and could take that information to HR. I left the typed note on her keyboard. She never looked me in the eye again. She never apologized. She was eventually fired for what I don’t know. It was the first time I handled something like that so calmly and gracefully. Hearing someone say something so awful about you is horrible, but at least I put her in a place without stooping to her level. It was one of worse and finest moments at the same time.  Clearly the quality of people I work with is seriously lacking. 

Despite all this awful stuff, there have been some shining moments for me. My pinup pictures have been published in a magazine twice.  One of those photographs was published in a book of pinups. I got to shoot with some amazing photographers this year. I’m Miss January in the Black Pinups calendar for 2016. Next year I will have my first cover published.  I did recover from my vocal injury. I was able to go back to singing and performing. My performances since then have been more polished and I have a new sense of confidence and joy that is now more evident in my performances. I’ve been exposed to a larger community of burlesque performers that have been super encouraging and inspiring. I already knew that I had amazing husband. But when he stepped up and started creating, embellishing and designing my costumes my love and respect for him magnified exponentially. Never in my life has someone do so many amazing things for me, just because they loved me and believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself. His love is what gets me through some of the toughest times.  Having someone like that on your team makes a world of difference. The thing that was the most surprising was the positive thing that happened next. When I publicly reached out on the Internet to say how bad I was hurting, I was surprised by the amount of support I got from people that were in my life. You make Facebook friends and you consider them acquaintances, but you pretty much don’t expect them to be “real friends”.  But I was pleasantly surprised when people wrote me and said so many encouraging things, and the nicest things and made me feel like I mattered to them. I didn’t know how much I affected other people until all of this happened. I’m so grateful for that encouragement. I’m thankful for the love that was bestowed on me in my time of need. 

I end this blog on a positive note despite all the raw negativity and angst I’ve written. I wrote this blog for several reasons. One, I thought by writing out my feelings I would get some relief from the pain I’ve been experiencing. I did accomplish that. The second reason is I felt the need to explain why I’m not always smiling despite all the wonderful things going on around me.  I’m too honest for my own good, and I know that. But that’s the only way I know how to be.  The third reason is to encourage someone else who suffers from sadness and depression and to let them know they are not alone.  Finally to thank those who read this long drawn out diatribe for their encouragement and to let them know how much I appreciated it.  My final thought is to encourage you to continue to give love and support to those around you.  You never know how much you can inspire someone or even help them just by smiling at them and saying “I’m so glad I know you”. 

A Dedication To My Father

 

Today’s blog will be different.  And although I said last week I would keep the negativity to a minimum, this was something I needed to write. It’s part of the healing process. And right now my heart is very heavy and I need to get it out.

The holidays are a difficult time for a lot of people, myself included. I have a particularly hard time with Thanksgiving.  My father died just after Thanksgiving when I was 11 years old.  Tomorrow is the anniversary of his death. He passed away 30 years ago. And in some ways it feels like it was just yesterday.

Losing a loved one is never easy for anyone.  Losing a parent is particularly hard at any age. But when you’re 11 years old and you suddenly lose a person who meant the world to you, it changes you forever. In so many ways it has shaped me into the person I’ve become.  Losing someone close like this so early in life has made me stronger in a lot of ways.  And in some ways some of my biggest character flaws stem from this one moment in time.

This year, I thought I would be OK. I had been cruising along like normal going about my daily life.  I thought maybe I would get a little sad. I’d take a few minutes to reflect and just go on as usual.  But last night a minor disagreement was the thing that sent me over the edge. It hit me so hard that I started to cry.  And I couldn’t stop. I cried for four hours straight. The grief and the pain of losing my dad just overcame me like it had just happened. I can still hear my mom saying to me as I walked into our apartment,  “He didn’t make it”.  I remember thinking, “but he was fine the day before, how can he be gone just like that?”

I’ve done my best to think of all those great moments from those precious years that I had with my dad.  I was daddy’s little girl and the only child of my two parents.  Daddy was the one who spoiled me, and mom was the one who delivered the punishments when I misbehaved.  But it was very obvious to me, even then, that I was very loved by both of them.  And although my mom wasn’t as expressive about her love for me back then, my father expressed it every chance that he got. To this day I’m grateful for that love from both of them.  My mother was the one who had the strength to take over and be both parents.  My mom has always been very hard on me, but I know it’s out of love. I love and respect her ability to carry us both through after losing my father.

The admiration for my father is still something that stays with me.  I remember all the lengths he took to get me the best of anything and everything for me. When it came to my education he bought me every book he could get his hands on. My dad always stressed how important it was that I got a good education.  Even though we don’t have all the cool technology kids have now, he still managed to find the best learning tools out there for me.  My father was in military years before I was born. He fought in the Korean war. He was corporal in the army.  He spoke and read multiple languages: French, German, Italian and Russian. After he was gone we must have found dozens of books in all those languages. When he tucked me in at night, he always said I love you in a different language. When I was in elementary school I was in a bilingual classroom for 5 years.  I always thought it was funny that the one language I was learning, Spanish, was the one language he couldn’t speak.  He always placed the importance on speaking proper English. I wasn’t even allowed to say “ain’t” in the house.

He encouraged me to embrace every opportunity to learn. It was very important that I went to college.  He himself worked at the community college that I eventually went to. He used to drive me by the college that he said he hoped I would attend.  One of my proudest moments after he was gone was when I got accepted to Loyola Marymount University.  It was his dream that I was attend LMU. When I wrote my entrance essay I mentioned how my dad would drive me up and down Lincoln Blvd, pointing out the letters on the side of the mountain and saying “You could go there someday”. 

My father was the one who encouraged me to embrace music.  When I expressed minor interest in learning an instrument, particularly clarinet, he immediately went out and bought one and got me private lessons. He encouraged me to practice, even when I wanted to go out and play with my friends.  I eventually abandoned the clarinet after he died. I opted to sing instead. It turned out that I was a better singer than I was instrumentalist. My dad loved classical music. And he hated when I changed the radio station to Michael Jackson or Madonna when Bach or Mozart was playing in the car. His favorite song was Ave Maria. To this day, that song always brings me to tears when I hear it. I eventually embraced his love of classical music.  I wish I appreciated it more when he was alive.

My dad spoiled me.  After a certain age, I was getting a two birthday cakes at each party.  One homemade one and one store bought one with the all the cool characters. He would occasionally stop by my elementary school to surprise me McDonalds for me and my friends and of course would sit with us. Because he worked in athletics at the college he would take me to all the games.  Because of him, I got to see the Lakers practice in the college gym.  We’re talking back in the hey day of the Lakers: the Kareem and Magic Johnson days. Somewhere at my mom’s place I still have pictures of those players at practice.    I had every stuffed animal imaginable. I still have a stuffed rabbit he gave me when I was 2 years old, named Juicy. I had all games and toys.  Any extracurricular activity I wanted to participate in, he encouraged, and chaperoned.  And even though he gave me all that stuff, he also made sure I stayed humble and respectful.  He was constantly reminding me to say “please” and “thank you”. He encouraged me to share my toys with others.   He stressed that the importance of respecting elders and authority.  He reminded me that mouthing off and getting into trouble wouldn’t get me very far in life.

I’m so fortunate to have had those great memories that are still with me to this day. He meant the world to me and I know I was his world too. He never failed to tell me when I made him proud.  And as result I wanted to continue to make him proud. Those formative years with him is what gave me the work ethic that I have today. In my mind I’m still trying to make him proud even though he’s no longer here.  And when I make mistakes as most human do, I’m extra hard on myself because I feel like I’m disappointing him. I know it sounds irrational.  My dad is the one who taught me how to love. It still breaks my heart to this day that he never got to meet the one man who really ever matched that kind of expressive unconditional love, my husband Jeff. The two greatest men I have even known never got to meet.

Tomorrow morning I will go to his visit his grave. I don’t go very often. Sometimes it’s just too hard for me to go there.  I’m fortunate to live close to where he’s buried. My mother has opted not to go with me. I think it’s still too painful for her, even though she doesn’t say it. I will pay my respects.  I will tell him that I love him and I miss him everyday. I will thank him for giving me best childhood a girl could ask for. I will thank him for loving me. And I that hope he’s watching me and that I still make him proud. I will let him know that I’m in good hands with the man I’m married to.  And I promise to be there for my mom. 

I changed my profile picture on Facebook to honor him and remind myself of the love and happiness I had with my dad. It’s a picture of him holding me at 6 or 8 months old.  He’s looking at me smiling. It’s one of my favorite pictures.  I wrote this blog as kind of a love letter to say how much he meant to me and to help ease some of the grief I feel. 30 years is a long time. And at 41, I’m still daddy’s little girl. Which is why I still legally have his last name. I’m proud to be the only daughter of Joseph Henry Rogers, may he rest in peace.

What?! You’re Starting This Blog Thing…Again?!

Today’s Attire:   A navy off the shoulder cotton top (My Baby Jo $28) paired with a blue white and beige printed skirt (White House Black Market $35), Black calf length leather boots with studded hard ware (DSW $29) and denim jacket (Old Navy $15).

Outfit Justification: Today the division that I work for celebrated its one year anniversary. They were having a party. I wanted to be festive and by festive I wanted to wear something cute and comfortable. The skirt has pockets, so that fit the criteria.

What?! You’re Starting This Blog Thing…Again?!

Last week I was talking to one of the people in the office who I’ve recently had the opportunity to get to know a bit better.  She was telling me about how she was getting out of her comfort zone.  She had taken a one day comedy workshop and that prompted to her to sign up for a comedy writing class for late night television.  She has no comedy writing experience.  She just wanted to try it.  We talked about her first class. I enjoyed seeing that excitement as she talked about it.  And even though I don’t know her very well, I was super excited to see her step out and do something cool like this.  I wanted to encourage her as much as I possibly could.  I have multiple friends who are writers and I believe in their talent.  As a creative person I believe it’s my duty to encourage creative talent as much as possible.  As I chatted with my new work friend, I started to think about my blog. 

I remembered how the blog thing started.  Someone else was encouraging me to step out of my comfort zone and wanted me to bring my fashion thoughts, my storytelling ability and my life story to a larger audience.   After thinking about it forever I did it. And people liked it.  And it enriched my life.  It helped me document my journey with weight gain, weight loss, my love of karaoke, shopping, fashion, and eventually my pursuit of a music career.  When I started it, I thought it was this silly thing I was going to do.  But in the end people actually cared. They wanted to know what was going to happen in the next chapter of my crazy life.  It turned out to be much more than I expected.

Six years ago, one day in April my life turned upside down.  I was in a dark place physically and mentally and I pulled the plug on the blog.  I felt like I no longer had anything to say that would be of any interest to anyone, including myself.  I shut down completely.  It took me almost 8 months for me to get my life back together.  Once I got back to “normal” I still didn’t heart to start the blog again.

Then two years ago I decided to start the blog again. But it was a different blog.  The blog still had some of the aspects of the old blog, like my attire for the day, and the outfit justification.  But the subject matter changed.  It was a darker blog. It covered my battle with depression, weight gain, low self-esteem and my dread of turning 40.  There were lighter moments in the blog when I talked about the love of my life, my husband Jeff and the goofiness of our lives together.  I still talked about the pursuit of a singing career.  There was mention of audition failures and I didn’t have a steady gig. As I reread the blog posts, they felt too negative.  It was too real in some cases.  I don’t believe in spreading negativity. And I felt like it was becoming a vehicle that was spreading negativity.  I decided that I should shut it down.  In the last week of my thirties I opted to end the blog with a positive blog and how I had finally came into the acceptance stage of turning 40. I ended my 30’s and my blog.

There have been significant changes in my life since the last blog ended. I’m working at a different company. I have a steady singing gig which is completely out of my comfort zone in the world of burlesque.  I have found a love of vintage inspired clothing and have incorporated that into my personal style.  I’ve even been published as pinup model.  I still have some of the same struggles I had before, but there are all these positive new things in my life.  And when I was telling my new friend about the old blog, she said that it was fantastic and questioned why I stopped. She quickly said that I have such an interesting life and it’s a shame that I’m not sharing it with the world.  She said she’d totally be interested in hearing about the daily life of a person who works as a computer geek during the day but sings for a burlesque company in her spare time.  She also said that if she would be interested she thought others would be too. She even suggested we could write one together, me about pursuing music, her about pursuing comedy writing.  It wasn’t a bad idea.  I’m still toying with it.

So this is my attempt to dip my toe in the water of writing again.  I’m still afraid of what kind of scrutiny I could be opening myself up to.  I’m concerned that people might take shots at me.  People have always had very strong opinions, and sometimes people like to share their opinions of my life in a not so constructive way.  I have enough stress in my life, and I don’t want or need that kind of criticism. But that’s what happens when you open yourself up….on the Internet.  We’ll see how this goes. If it’s awful, I’ll stop. If it turns out to be awesome, I’ll continue.

Welcome to 40, The Water Is Just Right

Today’s Fashion Attire:  Black cotton dress with stud detail around the neck and the waist (White House Black Market $50) black leather heels (Rockport Outlet $29) silver hoop earrings (H&M  $2.90)

Outfit Justification:  This is my final week of my 30’s, I’ve opted to wear as many of my flattering black dresses as I can fit into this week.  I’m going into my fabulous 40’s like a true fashionista, rocking an LBD (Little Black Dress).

Welcome to 40, The Water Is Just Right:

After a year about me moaning and complaining, this week has finally come the end of the third decade of my life.  I have gone through all the stages of grieving with turning 40….and I’ve finally come to the acceptance stage.  In my final week, I’m calm and content about it.  

I’m going into this new decade armed with a bunch of good things.  First, there’s my healthy and stable romantic relationship, second, a few really good friends who have really stood by me, third, skills that set me apart from other people that will only grow to improve in my 40’s, finally self knowledge and confidence that can only come with maturity.   Will all of these things working in my favor, I don’t have to focus on the things that I don’t have because it doesn’t matter. The beauty is that I’m still alive and can still continue the pursuit of those things.

40 represents a new era of things to come. I believe my future is bright.  And I get to start this decade off with one helluva party.  I’m really looking forward to spending a wonderful evening with my loved ones and celebrating me, the way I love to celebrate: by wearing a fabulous outfit, singing my heart out and enjoying music.  I also look forward to being carded and getting the response “You’re 40, you look like you’re in your 20’s”.

Farewell 30’s, it’s been real and interesting.  My blue streaks and I are ready to enter all the fabulousness of 40.  And it will be done with true style!

Countdown to 40

Today's Attire:  Royal blue cotton hoodie (Gap Outlet $29) over a grey Smurfs 2 t-shirt (purchased from work) over black fitness pants (New York & Co $15) with black Addidas sneakers (Lady Footlocker $68) Black Hard Rock San Francisco baseball cap (Hard Rock Cafe San Francisco $35)

Outfit Justification:  I'm totally sore from a Zumba and ab workout.  I went totally casual because frankly when you're this sore, you're lucky you're able to even put clothes on.  And since I don't feel like being arrested for indecent exposure, I opted for this.

Countdown to 40:

This is a blog that I've been trying to write for months. I've tried to attack it from a couple of different perspectives.  I've looked at it from a reflective point of view. I've looked at it from a negative point of view.  I've looked at the pro's and con's of my life point of view. But ultimately I could never really bring myself to publish it. Whatever I wrote never seemed to really convey my true thoughts and feelings about turning 40.   And then today I was responding to an email to my friend Natalie. And the below paragraph summed up my feelings the best:

Today is exactly a month till my birthday. I'm really trying to make the most of these last 30 days. And do what I can to really get myself in a condition that I'm happy with. Meaning, I want to be feeling good in my body.  I'm seeing the shrink, and that will help with the mental part. But I have to do the rest of it too, the physical activity, the healthy diet. It's hard. But I have to keep working at it. Even after the big birthday.  I need to start focusing on how I want to feel and then start feeling it. I know this isn't going to change overnight. I can't get the weight off as quickly as I have done in the past. I'm older, I'm working against a thyroid condition.  I've chosen a weight loss method that is slow (Weight Watchers) in an effort to keep the weight off long term.  These are things that I have to accept.  But I have to still continue on.  I want people to see me as a gorgeous, hot, fabulous, smart, fun and an accomplished 40 year old. That's going to be a work in progress. As I write this, I feel like I need to turn this paragraph into a blog.  This is me trying to make positive changes. It's going to be a slow process, but at least I'm doing something.

The title of my story should be:  Doing Something: The Vivian Rogers Story

I have a month to really enjoy the last of my 30's.  I'll do my best to not dread turning 40.  There will be  times in this month when I might get a little sad about getting older. Some of that is fear of what's ahead of me.  I'm entitled to feel this way.  But I'm going to focus on all the things I'm grateful for in my life:

• I'm married to the most wonderful guy who truly embodies the definition of unconditional love
• I have wonderful friends and family that I love
• I'm blessed with the ability to sing well
• I work at a company that has some amazing perks and sounds good when I talk about it
• I do my best to have fun and do interesting things
• I have the ability to be honest about my life and feelings through writing
• I have a creative mind that has managed to take places I never thought I'd go in life

My hope is that age 40 will be my best year yet.  My action item is to continue doing something to make it even more fabulous. Starting off with a fantastic birthday party!

Confidence: The Ultimate Battle

Today’s Attire:  Today I’m wearing a royal blue cardigan (Macy’s $35) over a royal blue tank (Gap outlet $4) with black slacks (Banana Republic $39) with black basic heels (Rockport Outlet $10). I’ve accessorized with multi-strand faux pearl necklace (Forever 21, $8.80) black sequin headband (accessory store in Santa Barbara $3) and a pearl bracelet with an ivory ribbon (the remnants of my corsage from my friend’s wedding)

Outfit Justification:  This was trying to embrace my inner Jackie O.  I really wanted to look classic and stylish today.  Despite having a late night, I didn’t want to look like I had a late night. I’ve never been able to really swing the classic sweater twinset and pearl look but I thought I’d give it a try.

Confidence: The Ultimate Battle:

I had a conversation with a friend this week.  We caught up on stuff, we talked about serious stuff, and then silly stuff.  We have a lot in common. I mentioned how fabulous this person looks in all on their Facebook pictures and when  I’ve seen them out and about in the past.  And when they exclaimed that had lost their confidence, I could totally relate.   I wanted very much to let this person know that I think they’re stunning and fabulous, every time.  But I felt weird saying that when I feel the same lack of  confidence.

I’ve hit a little bit of a bout with depression recently.  Coming up on this milestone birthday has really done a number on my self-esteem and as a result my confidence has taken a major hit.  My life isn’t where I wanted or expected it to be at this point.  And I find myself constantly making comparisons to the people in my life and feeling like a loser because I find that I don’t measure up.  It isn’t just turning 40 that bothers me, it’s that I haven’t done everything I thought I would do by the time I turned 40. As a result I feel like a loser.  Don’t worry, I started seeing a shrink this week. 

I’ve recently started to notice my lack of confidence when it came to karaoke and singing in general.  In my head when I sing, I don’t sound as awesome as I expect to.  And if there isn’t really much of a response from the crowd, I start to worry that I’m losing my ability.   What follows are the ugly negative thoughts.   One day a few weeks ago all I heard in my head  was the following: 

“You’re delusional, you can’t sing. “ “You’re a hack, the only reason why people pay attention to you when you sing is because you’re loud” “You don’t belong in a band, because you aren’t that good” “No one wants to see a fat, ugly, old girl sing rock” “You’re looking ridiculous and you’re making a fool of yourself” and finally “You’re not a real singer, karaoke doesn’t count, go back to singing in your car where no one can hear you.” 

 It’s hard because I  was beginning to feel like I had bought into my hype.  It had gotten so bad that a few weeks ago I was at karaoke there were a bunch of people who sing professionally: opera, musical theater, and etc.  When I went to the bar to close out my tab, this girl said to me  “you’re really good, are you a singer?”  I was so sad and defeated  I looked at the girl and said “No. I’m not a singer” and then I pointed at one of the professional crowd that was singing then said “That’s a singer, not me.”  I left after that.

Recently I find that I’m intimidated by people who are super strong singers and see all the typical stuff.  And it’s because I’ve lost my confidence for whatever reason.  I feel like I don’t measure up.  I left karaoke last Thursday feeling like crap, when I heard some girl sing Lady Marmalade and kill it like I can’t.  My pride was hurt for some reason.  It’s not “my song” it’s a song that I’ve done well in the past, and I felt like someone had just handed me my hat.  Now when people come up to me, I cringe because I’m anticipating them saying something mean to me, like the stuff that I hear in my head.  It’s weird.

So when talking to my friend, I was telling them how awesome I think they are. As I said so, I felt like a huge hypocrite because I never believe it when someone says that to me. Why do we do this to ourselves?  It’s easier to believe the bad stuff, I know.  But losing confidence and faith in yourself and your abilities is a tough thing to overcome.  I struggle with it every day. 

I changed my cover picture on Facebook this afternoon to a headshot of me that makes me look like a badass. But the truth of the matter is in that picture I was probably the most miserable I had ever been the day that picture was taken. Because the night before, a personal tragedy had happened, and I still went through with the shoot because it was too late to cancel.  If you look in my eyes, you can still see the pain I was in.  But I did my best to put up the brave front and summon up the badass I thought I was on stage.  In the days after I saw these pictures, I thought, I look sad and pathetic.  I’m working with my shrink on changing my perspective in hopes that I can get myself out of this depression.  So my first exercise in this is to address the negative feelings about this picture.  I don’t look sad or pathetic in this picture. The girl in that picture is a badass.  This girl went through an early morning photo shoot the morning after her husband of 4 years walked out on her.  Despite her pain and sadness this girl picked herself up and went on with her life and took the steps to pursue her dream of being a singer.  That’s a brave thing to do. That shows strength.  Frankly that embodies what a badass is.  That girl had confidence in her ability to keep going.   So my next assignment is to remember this and draw from the confidence of that girl in the picture.   That confidence will keep me moving forward.  I am that badass in the picture.  I just need to keep remembering that’s who I am.