In a funk. Looking for middle ground.

Pardon my complaining. You might need to allot like 10 minutes just to this post. I'm just going to spill my guts here.

June hasn't been the best of months for me so far. Life's thrown me some curve balls that I haven't been able to hit out of the park, so to speak. It all started in May when I started practicing for the teacher's dance at Starstruck Studios. The extra time was demanding and left J alone with the girls many nights, which was nice sometimes but other times a little annoying.

My stress level jumped as high as the Empire State Building when told we would be performing not one but two numbers and we'd be learning them in only four, 1 to 1 1/2 hours sessions. Now for some seasoned performers this might be no sweat, but for me it was like someone decided that my stomach was the ball and it was time to play soccer.

You see for the last year or two, I've been having these dreams where I'm to perform at some random event and minutes before the performance, I'm absolutely clueless as to what steps I'm going to take and my spot is critical for the formation to look decent. Everyone else performing has the routine down pat, and yet after months of practice, I'm going to be in the back watching other dancer's moves, trying to keep up and ruining the performance for EVERYONE.

OH, that stupid dream keeps replaying itself. Over and Over.

Then my cheer class decided they hated me and whined and cried throughout all our last practices about not wanting to do the routine yet again. Even though they still had miles to go before achieving what I thought was attainable for them.

Then the dress rehearsal and recital. Luckily, for my sanity they were both on the same day. During dress rehearsal, I found that the cut of the song we'd been working on getting for the entire month of May finally showed up. Yay. Something went right. But then the little cheerleaders danced to the new cut and it was magically 2-3 eight counts longer than the one we'd practiced to ALL SEASON LONG. At the end of the routine, the dancers were done dancing and the music was still running. Ummm. Big breath. I'm thinking the recital's tonight, music's not right. THINK. THINK. THINK. I'M GOING TO GO CRAZY. We pondered on it and just decided for time's sake, we'd fade the music out. How pathetic, but it works.

Hey stress... here's a sucker, come on over.

That night was the recital. I was stoked, scared, happy, and stressed all at the same time. Our first dance went a little crazy. But out of my overstressed mind came
practice at home and surprisingly, I was on but everyone else was off.
Yes, I'm sure.
This made it obvious to me that we didn't practice enough. Hello?

Cheer was next. Oh man, my little cheerleaders didn't deal well with the changes that were forced upon them last minute and they walked on to stage with absolutely no emotion WHATSOEVER. People, I practiced for weeks on end on how to rally in and because of one simple change, they simply forgot all my advice and work. I was so mad about that because it totally set the tone for the performance. which was eh, okay. But I felt helpless - I'm not too fond of that feeling - because they forgot what I'd taught them about rallying and being spunky and happy. They kind of just froze. Then the dance came on and again with all the freezing. I think it was a miracle that the music cut was longer than it was suppose to be because they TOTALLY froze for like the first 2-3 eight counts of music. Soooo, they did end on time but holy crap. Again with the stress. YIKES ALMIGHTY.

Then, teachers performed again and success. Finally. Happy about that.

But then because of all the stress, I got sick. Lovely. Let's just add a sprinkling of more stress trying to deal with kids and life when you're sick.

Then I did a very stupid thing and watched our performances on tape. OH. MY. HECK!! Why am I teaching dance? Is the owner doing me a favor by keeping me on? And I totally need to lose weight. So, I tried that, yet again. And got sick. Again. Lost some weight but I think it's right back on.

Had to have a heart to heart with myself and then with the owner of the studio. I found out that a parent expressed concerns about THE ONLY ROUTINE I've ever made up for cheerleading from start to finish by myself. Yeah, let me tell you how wonderful THAT made me feel. I guess the owner does see something in me that I don't quite see yet. So, I get a chance to try it again and hopefully, do better next time. But when you get a complaint on something you've put so much time and effort into, it just tears your heart up, you know?

So, now that I've gone through these experiences and had a chance for some weeks to creep by,I look back and wonder. Who am I? What really matters? I know I should already have this figured out by now but it seems as if I still have to ask myself this every once in a while. I heard a woman once say that after she had kids she said her main goal was to "shoot for middle ground." No longer looking to be #1 or really talented at this or that but to just be...okay with whatever you're doing. To me that means hope. Also, this didn't mean not ever pushing yourself beyond comfortable limits but it meant to be okay if you mess up or feel inadequate.. and the most important part. Just move on. Does it really mean THAT much if something didn't turn out the way you expected? Nope. Did I try my best? Yep. Did that parent drink vodka for breakfast and not have proper judgement? Okay then. Let it go.

Soo sorry about the mental self-help chat I had with myself in public but I thought maybe it might help someone else with intense feelings of inadequacy or may be just make someone realize that they aren't the only ones that ever feel this way. Hope I didn't scare you. And yes, I'm fine. It'll just take more of these nice little chats I have with my brain to make me get right back in the saddle again and move on.

Thanks for listening. And yes, I'm a very open person. I know. It's a bit of a downfall I have but I'd love to chat about any of this stuff if anyone needs a self-esteem boost. ha. ha.