Throw your hands up at me....
This Independence day weekend I am struggling with how utterly un-independent I seem to be. I've been struggling with it for several months, actually, as some of my big projects coincided with some of Aaron's big projects and I came to understand how disgustingly codependent I had become over the last few years, what a needy, helpless creature I'd devolved into!
I had\have become this almost infantile little hanger-on waiting around for mister genius jack-of-all-trades to take care of all my problems and issues for me wherever and whenever humanly possible. Seriously.
And so, as my productions were going up and I had a list of props and things a mile long, on which I had noted 'Aaron can do this' beside nearly every single item, I had to frown, shake my head and take a hard look at what the fuck I was doing to myself and to Aaron.
Is it true that the man can do almost anything? Yes. Is it true that almost everything he does turns out awesomesauce and stunning and has an amazing wow-factor? Yes and yes. Is it true that people are constantly impressed, amazed, awe-inspired and staggered by how handy\creative\dependable\visionary\ingenious\inventive\clever\crafty\problem-solve-y\knowledgeable\skilled\efficient\relaibly amazing the guy is? Fuck yes, that is gospel.
However, this is not the law of exclusivity. Just because he IS amazing, doesn't necessarily mean that I am NOT amazing. But I had begun to believe this with every fibre of my being. It was as if: "Why bother? I can't do it as well as Aaron, so..." *shrug*
This happened with our failed start-up company too. Suddenly, because of his wide-ranging skill set and expertise, Aaron was the go-to guy for fucking everything and I think it made the rest of us sort of lazy, or at least less motivated, less spectacularly motivated than we should have been for a band of scrappy start-ups. He busted his ass and dis amazing work, and .... well... he's good, but he isn't a miracle worker, and he can't carry everything on those broad shoulders of his. And our dream? It looked real great on the website he designed and built, it looked fabulous on the posters he designed and found a printer for, it looked so professional and promising in the brochures he developed and found a printer for! But in the end it was a miscarriage and all we have left is Aaron's incredible work.
So it came time to do my shows and Aaron is illustrating a book, and Aaron is building a goddamned life-size velociraptor (I promise I'll get pictures up at some point- the thing is fucking fabulous), and Aaron is still doing things for STAGE, and aaron is real fucking busy, and while he says he'll help, it is easily apparent to me that the man is stretched too thin (if he were a normal human like the rest of us, he would have been well past the snapping point, but for my super-hero husband? nah, just stretched a lil too thin...), ans there literally aren't enough hours in the day for him to accomplish everything he needs to get done AND eat, sleep, breathe and survive, and so I say: Forget it, I'll do it myself (but not in a bitchy way; I said it in a falsely brave, go-get-em voice...)
I was daunted. I was depressed. I was dreading the tasks, and I took a moment to examine this state of mind\being. And I said to myself:
Yeah, I fucking thought not. Now, stop feeling sorry for yourself and wishing you could be someone else, and get your goddamned cunting act together and make some children's theatre props.
And while you're at it? take a long, hard look at your life and ask yourself what kind of person you want to be.
So. Yeah. I made some fabulous props for three separate shows, and while I am sure Aaron could have made them better or more functional or whatever, I must say that the props I conjured up were really goddamn great. And he was so fucking busy that he wasn't even able to come to two of my shows-- he never even got to see some of my props in action. And I went to the shows alone, no one there for me, and guess what? I survived. I did well. I didn't crumple into a mess of insecurities. Shockingly.
Recently I have been panicked about the notion that I might have the very real high-stakes responsibility of teaching students a real subject like english (as opposed to the periphery subject of theatre\drama\acting, where no one really knows what you're doing and so no one really looks to hear or holds you to any measurable standards-- they just smile vaguely and attend the shows once in a while and say 'break a leg' but walk away mystified and proud of themselves for supporting arts education.), and Aaron keeps saying:
"I'll help you! Whatever you need, I will help you, we can do this!"
Which is incredibly supportive.
And feels fundamentally wrong to me.
"You can't help me, not with everything!" I tell him. "I somehow have to be able to do this myself!"
He assures me I will, he insists that he can and will help, and when I complain about my relative uselessness he argues that I help him all the time. But honestly? the examples he provides make me feel like a little kid who 'helped' her dad fis the diswasher or something. Like, I made sure the nuts and bolts didn't get lost, o r I handed him the right screwdriver, or I held the flashlight at the right angle while he actually did the real work that requires brains and know-how and skill and all that jazz.
I love him. More than life, more than anything, more (much, much more) than myself.
But if I want him to continue to love me for the long haul? I gotta get my act together. I have to build up my once strongly independent muscles. This was the girl who lived in NYC without him. WHo traveled the country without him. Who was perfectly capable of using all kinds of powertools without him. Who could build things, assemble things, research things, and create things without him. With his love and support, but ultimately on my own.
I like having a partner. I don't want to make him my dad-- you know?
I need to dust off my old tools, my old attitude, my old self-reliance. Balance the scales a little bit. Be an active contributor. An equal partner, with assets and value.
I mean, how long's he gunna keep me around just for the sex? It may have gotten me this far, but you never know quite when the sand'll run outta that hourglass, right ladies? ;)
He puts up with a hell of a lot. I just wanna take some of the burden off the poor fella.
And I want to be able to stand alone, when all is said and done, and have some accomplishments that are my own, incomparable achievements. I want to thank him in the credits, instead of have him srite the thing for me.
I want to be the woman he fell in love with.
I want to be the woman that you couldn't resist, not for anything!
Cuz I depend on me!
Girl I didn't know you could get down like that....
This Independence day weekend I am struggling with how utterly un-independent I seem to be. I've been struggling with it for several months, actually, as some of my big projects coincided with some of Aaron's big projects and I came to understand how disgustingly codependent I had become over the last few years, what a needy, helpless creature I'd devolved into!
I had\have become this almost infantile little hanger-on waiting around for mister genius jack-of-all-trades to take care of all my problems and issues for me wherever and whenever humanly possible. Seriously.
And so, as my productions were going up and I had a list of props and things a mile long, on which I had noted 'Aaron can do this' beside nearly every single item, I had to frown, shake my head and take a hard look at what the fuck I was doing to myself and to Aaron.
Is it true that the man can do almost anything? Yes. Is it true that almost everything he does turns out awesomesauce and stunning and has an amazing wow-factor? Yes and yes. Is it true that people are constantly impressed, amazed, awe-inspired and staggered by how handy\creative\dependable\visionary\ingenious\inventive\clever\crafty\problem-solve-y\knowledgeable\skilled\efficient\relaibly amazing the guy is? Fuck yes, that is gospel.
However, this is not the law of exclusivity. Just because he IS amazing, doesn't necessarily mean that I am NOT amazing. But I had begun to believe this with every fibre of my being. It was as if: "Why bother? I can't do it as well as Aaron, so..." *shrug*
This happened with our failed start-up company too. Suddenly, because of his wide-ranging skill set and expertise, Aaron was the go-to guy for fucking everything and I think it made the rest of us sort of lazy, or at least less motivated, less spectacularly motivated than we should have been for a band of scrappy start-ups. He busted his ass and dis amazing work, and .... well... he's good, but he isn't a miracle worker, and he can't carry everything on those broad shoulders of his. And our dream? It looked real great on the website he designed and built, it looked fabulous on the posters he designed and found a printer for, it looked so professional and promising in the brochures he developed and found a printer for! But in the end it was a miscarriage and all we have left is Aaron's incredible work.
So it came time to do my shows and Aaron is illustrating a book, and Aaron is building a goddamned life-size velociraptor (I promise I'll get pictures up at some point- the thing is fucking fabulous), and Aaron is still doing things for STAGE, and aaron is real fucking busy, and while he says he'll help, it is easily apparent to me that the man is stretched too thin (if he were a normal human like the rest of us, he would have been well past the snapping point, but for my super-hero husband? nah, just stretched a lil too thin...), ans there literally aren't enough hours in the day for him to accomplish everything he needs to get done AND eat, sleep, breathe and survive, and so I say: Forget it, I'll do it myself (but not in a bitchy way; I said it in a falsely brave, go-get-em voice...)
I was daunted. I was depressed. I was dreading the tasks, and I took a moment to examine this state of mind\being. And I said to myself:
Um, what the fuck is your fucking problem?
Uh, pardon? Excuse me, I don't know what--
Shut the fuck up, you pathetic bitch and take a good look at your sad-sack self, will you?
Wh-wh-wh-whaaaat?!?!?
You heard me!
Well, gimme a breakm this is hard work! I don't think I can do it!
Oh give me a fucking break!
I'm serious!
You're a serious fuckface.
Fuckface? *snicker*
You think it's fucking funny that you've devolved into a goddamned parasite?
Ouch.
Yeah.
That's a bit harsh--
It is the goddamned truth. Look; You are a grown woman, you are a very SMART woman, you are exceedingly CLEVER, you are, believe it or not, quite a CAPABLE individual--
But...
You hold a goddamned ADVANCED DEGREE is this bullshit!!!! Are you seriously telling me that you can't suck it up, grab yourself a fucking hot-glue-gun, and make some goddamn children's theatre props?
. . . . . .
Yeah, I fucking thought not. Now, stop feeling sorry for yourself and wishing you could be someone else, and get your goddamned cunting act together and make some children's theatre props.
Oh-kayyy....
And while you're at it? take a long, hard look at your life and ask yourself what kind of person you want to be.
I--
How many times do you ask favors of him?
But--
How many tasks do you insist he perform when you are equally capable of accomplishing the task?
But he does it better!
Oh-the-fuck-well! So he does it better, oh well. It doesn't mean he has to do EVERYTHING and you don't do ANYTHING. That's one sure way to fuck up your marage permanently, don't you see that?
I...
He fell in love with you once upon a time because you were so fucking awesome it knocked his socks off! You were fierce, you were fearless, you were all-or-nothing and you just fucking DID things! remember that girl?
Not really.
Exactly. Wake the fuck up, get off your fucking ass, stop standing in someone's goddamned shadow (you should damn well know better than to let anyone block your light, bitch!), and make yourself an equal goddamned partner in this thing! And get those fucking props done, there are kids counting on you! They aren't counting on Aaron, they're counting on YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
So. Yeah. I made some fabulous props for three separate shows, and while I am sure Aaron could have made them better or more functional or whatever, I must say that the props I conjured up were really goddamn great. And he was so fucking busy that he wasn't even able to come to two of my shows-- he never even got to see some of my props in action. And I went to the shows alone, no one there for me, and guess what? I survived. I did well. I didn't crumple into a mess of insecurities. Shockingly.
Recently I have been panicked about the notion that I might have the very real high-stakes responsibility of teaching students a real subject like english (as opposed to the periphery subject of theatre\drama\acting, where no one really knows what you're doing and so no one really looks to hear or holds you to any measurable standards-- they just smile vaguely and attend the shows once in a while and say 'break a leg' but walk away mystified and proud of themselves for supporting arts education.), and Aaron keeps saying:
"I'll help you! Whatever you need, I will help you, we can do this!"
Which is incredibly supportive.
And feels fundamentally wrong to me.
"You can't help me, not with everything!" I tell him. "I somehow have to be able to do this myself!"
He assures me I will, he insists that he can and will help, and when I complain about my relative uselessness he argues that I help him all the time. But honestly? the examples he provides make me feel like a little kid who 'helped' her dad fis the diswasher or something. Like, I made sure the nuts and bolts didn't get lost, o r I handed him the right screwdriver, or I held the flashlight at the right angle while he actually did the real work that requires brains and know-how and skill and all that jazz.
I love him. More than life, more than anything, more (much, much more) than myself.
But if I want him to continue to love me for the long haul? I gotta get my act together. I have to build up my once strongly independent muscles. This was the girl who lived in NYC without him. WHo traveled the country without him. Who was perfectly capable of using all kinds of powertools without him. Who could build things, assemble things, research things, and create things without him. With his love and support, but ultimately on my own.
I like having a partner. I don't want to make him my dad-- you know?
I need to dust off my old tools, my old attitude, my old self-reliance. Balance the scales a little bit. Be an active contributor. An equal partner, with assets and value.
I mean, how long's he gunna keep me around just for the sex? It may have gotten me this far, but you never know quite when the sand'll run outta that hourglass, right ladies? ;)
He puts up with a hell of a lot. I just wanna take some of the burden off the poor fella.
And I want to be able to stand alone, when all is said and done, and have some accomplishments that are my own, incomparable achievements. I want to thank him in the credits, instead of have him srite the thing for me.
I want to be the woman he fell in love with.
I want to be the woman that you couldn't resist, not for anything!
Cuz I depend on me!
Girl I didn't know you could get down like that....
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1 comment:
whats on your itunes right now?! :)
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