Today’s post is inspired by my inner brat. It seems that in spite of my advanced age, there is still a 15 year old girl dwelling in my psyche, capable of righteous indignation and insane jealousy. I just have to talk about this to someone, and – guess what? – you’re it.
Here’s the backstory, as briefly as I can tell it. I was once a member of a local musical group. There were 13 of us (we were a handbell group, which isn’t really important, but partly explains why we were 13), and we traveled and made CD’s and did concerts, after which there was much wine drinking and general carousing. It was a huge amount of fun, but also a huge time committment. So, two years ago, I (regretfully) resigned, with many promises to return to and subsitute, fill in, etc., which I have dutifully done on several occasions.
It’s impossible not to miss being in a group like that. Oh, I don’t miss the endless rehearsals, with 13 women trying to get a word in edgewise about how things should be done, nor the hours of home practice, trying to emulate the action of handbells by using every last one of my kitchen spoons (don’t even ask!). What I miss the most is – #1, the interaction between talented women, working together to accomplish a common goal; #2, stretching my musical capabilities; and #3, performing for live audiences and being adored and admired!
Now, also a part of this group was someone whom I would consider my best friend, and my musical mentor. She was in the group far longer than I and she decided to “retire” the same time I did. Over the summer, there was a “temporary” vacancy in the group, created by a member who wanted to take a year off for personal reasons. Well, it seems my friend was asked if she would step in and fill this one year vacancy, and she agreed.
Here’s where the inner brat comes in. WHY DIDN’T THEY ASK ME??? They didn’t even ask me. And, without ringing my own bell too loudly, so to speak, I know I am a really good handbell player. So now my friend is telling me about all the things she’s doing with the group, and how they’re preparing for this, that, and the other concert. On the outside, I’m smiling and nodding, and on the inside, I am just fuming.
I don’t consider myself to be an overly sensitive or insecure person. Way back when I really was 15, I wasn’t type to get in a snit because my friend didn’t call me back when she said she would, or invite me to her party. So the jealousy and hurt I’m feeling right now are (thankfully!) quite unfamiliar. At issue is, how do I handle my feelings? The 15 year old says, “fine, if they want to be that way, they can forget about asking me to substitute anymore, and forget about me coming to their dumb old concerts.” Of course, the adult part says, “either suck it up and forget about it, or talk to the group director in a mature adult fashion and let her know you’re interested in returning if another opportunity arises.”
Naturally, I know the right answer. But it’s amazing how easily immaturity rears it’s ugly head from time to time, even when you’re a supposedly “mature adult.” In some ways, it’s kind of nice to know there’s still a little bit of a teenager in there somewhere. I just wish it was the part that weighed 95 pounds and wore a size three!
Thanks for listening…