Once again, last weekend we were in Locko Park having spent a silly amount of money and I once again spent a large chunk of it wondering if it was really worth it. Overall, though, I think it was.
My other half and the Terror both seemed to enjoy themselves anyway. I actually saw more of my SO than usual as she had some time off running encounters, and saw very little of the boy as he decamped to another group's tent and mostly played with the younger boy he first met last year. So I had some guilt and some boredom and some frustration at still feeling trapped in camp, but not so bad. I got to watch some rituals which are always fun, and didn't die or even get knocked out, and regained a bit of confidence about going near fights and actually healing people. Still a lot of feeling useless, but that was probably just my silly brain. And having a Lifemaster or two in camp for one attack. You do feel a bit superfluous then.
But oh dear I do wish I didn't suck so much at roleplaying. Failing to improvise details from my character's background is one thing, failing to even be able to recount the known parts of it is another. And how on earth did I manage to create a character who is even more shy than I am in real life? I still can't quite bring myself to retiring her and trying again with something different though. I suspect my own shyness will still be the limiting factor. And I really love the group I'm in now - they're great people to hang around with - and I can't see my next character concept fitting in so well. Plus I'd have to find different kit and all that. Effort. Probably not worth it.
Anyway, that's it for me this season, and next year I'll probably go through all the same worries and feelings and thoughts and end up coming to the same conclusion: I'd miss it if I didn't go and all I can do is keep trying to get more involved. Now I just have to try and get my mind back in this world.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Sudden Breakup
It's taken me a day or so to get together my thoughts but I think I'm about ready to try putting them into words.
At first I was shocked and then angry and then just terrified. Now I'm beginning to accept it with a sad sense of the inevitable - let's be honest, we both knew it wasn't going to last. Despite what you might think, it's not that I felt I could do better. I loved it while it lasted, although maybe I didn't always show it. And in reality it wasn't you - it was me. I was just not going to be the person you wanted me to be. I tried, maybe I could have tried harder. But you shouldn't have to put up with me and my problems out of a misplaced sense of loyalty, or worse, pity. And you helped me a great deal, but you shouldn't have to wait the years it could take me to improve. You need someone right for you, now. You deserve that.
I wish I'd done things differently, but still, I'm trying not to blame myself too much. Wallowing in self-pity or worse, regressing to how I was before, would do me no good and I intend to take this opportunity to regroup and learn and maybe even figure out what it is I really want from life. Things move on, there'll be other chances, and maybe one day I'll find "the one".
I just want you to know I'm sorry it didn't work out, and I don't blame you for giving me the boot. I hope you can forgive me my faults, and there will be no hard feelings between us. I promise this is the last you'll hear from me, unless I desperately need a reference of course.
So goodbye job, it was nice knowing you.
At first I was shocked and then angry and then just terrified. Now I'm beginning to accept it with a sad sense of the inevitable - let's be honest, we both knew it wasn't going to last. Despite what you might think, it's not that I felt I could do better. I loved it while it lasted, although maybe I didn't always show it. And in reality it wasn't you - it was me. I was just not going to be the person you wanted me to be. I tried, maybe I could have tried harder. But you shouldn't have to put up with me and my problems out of a misplaced sense of loyalty, or worse, pity. And you helped me a great deal, but you shouldn't have to wait the years it could take me to improve. You need someone right for you, now. You deserve that.
I wish I'd done things differently, but still, I'm trying not to blame myself too much. Wallowing in self-pity or worse, regressing to how I was before, would do me no good and I intend to take this opportunity to regroup and learn and maybe even figure out what it is I really want from life. Things move on, there'll be other chances, and maybe one day I'll find "the one".
I just want you to know I'm sorry it didn't work out, and I don't blame you for giving me the boot. I hope you can forgive me my faults, and there will be no hard feelings between us. I promise this is the last you'll hear from me, unless I desperately need a reference of course.
So goodbye job, it was nice knowing you.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Moving On
Maybe it's the cold I'm lumbered with or maybe it's the medicine I've taken for said cold, but I'm in a philosophical (and surprisingly laid back) mood. So excuse me while I ramble a bit.
It's been quite a week. Due to my usual practise of completely losing track of how many pills I have left, I ran out of sertraline last weekend. Cue much being tired, stressed, tearful etc. But I still failed to go pick up another prescription and I'm starting to think it isn't worth it as I'll be over the worst of the withdrawal by the time I get any. So once again I'll try going without. Maybe I'll manage for more than a few months this time.
Work was all going smoothly until Friday. It's always Fridays, isn't it? May have to change working practices again. And I have no confidence that I'll be able to provide the required information on Monday. But frankly, that's not my fault, and I once again find myself thinking "I'm just not paid enough to care". All I can do is work with the information given to me. If that's wrong or incomplete, well, tough.
Friends came and we chatted. Friends came and we gamed. There was even talk of roleplaying again. Would be kind of nice to get to play something. Might make me want to GM again. Any other attempts at creativity have been failing before getting to a keyboard. Even this bout of actually attempting to communicate is getting harder to continue. But I know if I stop I'll never get round to finishing. So I'm going to struggle to the end. And not stop to edit, for that way lies the delete button.
But some other things happened this week that may have also led to my not-entirely-cough-medicine-induced philosophical mood. Firstly my Facebook feed suddenly had a lot of posts from friends dealing with the sudden loss of one of their own - a young man I never met and had never even heard of until then. I still know nothing about him other than that he's gone and a lot of people are going to miss him. Then the very next day I discovered (again via the wonders of the internet) that some other friends of friends had lost their newborn son. Hard to express enough sympathy in those circumstances, especially without feeling like an intruder in complete strangers' grief. Tears and raging against the injustice of the world just didn't seem enough, so I just buried myself in my own life's petty problems and tried to forget it all.
As you can tell, I failed.
And today I've been too ill to do much, beyond sleep, veg out in front of DVDs and make the very vague and fuzzy decision that I need to change my attitude to life. I need to stop wallowing in the feeling that I'm missing out on something. I need to stop telling myself with every passing day that I'm wasting my life. I need to stop feeling as though I have an obligation to blog, or write, or run games, or entertain my friends with witty or interesting posts on Facebook/Twitter/Google+.I need to stop telling myself my son's life is boring and he's growing up without "a proper childhood" (whatever that means). I need to stop counting all the things I haven't done yet. I need to stop, basically, and be content with just being. Because yes, life is short,and yes, I don't know how long I've got left, and yes, each year seems to go by faster, but I doubt that when I do die, whether it's tomorrow or in fifty years time, my loved ones are going to think "she never did watch Twin Peaks".
It's been quite a week. Due to my usual practise of completely losing track of how many pills I have left, I ran out of sertraline last weekend. Cue much being tired, stressed, tearful etc. But I still failed to go pick up another prescription and I'm starting to think it isn't worth it as I'll be over the worst of the withdrawal by the time I get any. So once again I'll try going without. Maybe I'll manage for more than a few months this time.
Work was all going smoothly until Friday. It's always Fridays, isn't it? May have to change working practices again. And I have no confidence that I'll be able to provide the required information on Monday. But frankly, that's not my fault, and I once again find myself thinking "I'm just not paid enough to care". All I can do is work with the information given to me. If that's wrong or incomplete, well, tough.
Friends came and we chatted. Friends came and we gamed. There was even talk of roleplaying again. Would be kind of nice to get to play something. Might make me want to GM again. Any other attempts at creativity have been failing before getting to a keyboard. Even this bout of actually attempting to communicate is getting harder to continue. But I know if I stop I'll never get round to finishing. So I'm going to struggle to the end. And not stop to edit, for that way lies the delete button.
But some other things happened this week that may have also led to my not-entirely-cough-medicine-induced philosophical mood. Firstly my Facebook feed suddenly had a lot of posts from friends dealing with the sudden loss of one of their own - a young man I never met and had never even heard of until then. I still know nothing about him other than that he's gone and a lot of people are going to miss him. Then the very next day I discovered (again via the wonders of the internet) that some other friends of friends had lost their newborn son. Hard to express enough sympathy in those circumstances, especially without feeling like an intruder in complete strangers' grief. Tears and raging against the injustice of the world just didn't seem enough, so I just buried myself in my own life's petty problems and tried to forget it all.
As you can tell, I failed.
And today I've been too ill to do much, beyond sleep, veg out in front of DVDs and make the very vague and fuzzy decision that I need to change my attitude to life. I need to stop wallowing in the feeling that I'm missing out on something. I need to stop telling myself with every passing day that I'm wasting my life. I need to stop feeling as though I have an obligation to blog, or write, or run games, or entertain my friends with witty or interesting posts on Facebook/Twitter/Google+.I need to stop telling myself my son's life is boring and he's growing up without "a proper childhood" (whatever that means). I need to stop counting all the things I haven't done yet. I need to stop, basically, and be content with just being. Because yes, life is short,and yes, I don't know how long I've got left, and yes, each year seems to go by faster, but I doubt that when I do die, whether it's tomorrow or in fifty years time, my loved ones are going to think "she never did watch Twin Peaks".
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