Today is the day. Party time. I went to bed early, thus I am up at 4. My body mocks extra sleep. My body thinks that extra sleep is for lesser mortals. You know, people with less adrenaline. Holy moly I have a lot of energy coursing through my body. I’m trying to bank it because I don’t want to be toast before people arrive.
I have thought so hard and for so long about this day. I’ve been working towards this event night and day for four or five months. It’s kind of weird to be here. My goal today is to drown out the cacophony of voices in my head that tell me I’m bad. I’m really not. There are supposedly 69 people coming to my house today to tell me they love me. My life isn’t half bad, you know? And the only reason the party is this small is because of Burning Man. Ok, that made my grin huge. Holy shit. That’s a lot of people who like me. I don’t feel like I deserve to be liked.
Today is not about the bad tapes though. Today I am going to plaster the biggest smile I can manage on my face and I am going to let my friends hug me. I worked very hard for this party. Now I get to enjoy it. Noah, Sarah, and Kira will be the people who handle actual hosting. They are all very happy to do so. I prefer being a guest at parties. To entertain and spread things out I’ve made fun play areas in the front and back yards. The sand box is tented (I hope it didn’t fall off over night–heh) for maximum access without sunburning. There is a secret room under the blue potato vine. I have a cool yard. There’s a secret room under a bush. Yay! Uhhhh just make sure your kids don’t eat any of the blue potato vine. Apparently they are toxic. The plant was here before me. I yelled at a neighborhood kid yesterday for stealing one of my roses out of the front hedge. It was kind of awesome. I think that is my first “Get off my lawn” moment.
Yesterday I had therapy. She seems thrilled with me. She’s delighted with the party. She is starting to direct sessions a little more and I think that’s a good thing. I appreciate it when a therapists hang back and get the lay of the land before making suggestions. Then I feel like they are making suggestions based on things I’m saying rather than their biases. I feel like my therapist’s job is to listen to me tell my story and help me make connections between the various bits. I’m too close to the pattern to see it without an outside participant. Noah isn’t always available. Not to mention that I have some inner conflict about a lot of things in our marriage.
This relationship is fucking work. It’s good work. I’m happy to be doing it. I really and truly don’t want to be doing anything else. The last two days were good examples. I was uhm pretty difficult to live with this week. I stress out about things. And I don’t have anything that feels important in my life so this party is pretty over inflated for me. We tried hard on all sides to really ask for the rest and help we needed. I’m really hoping we all have enough energy to see everything through today. Adrenaline and caffeine are my two best friends today. I will have lots of adrenaline. Holy moly this is a lot of people in my house.
It’s kind of funny. I feel like I’m becoming weirder and more eccentric by the year. I am twitchy about people in my house and yet I really want to show off all my hard work. There. I said it. A big part of the reason I’m doing this is because I think my house is a fun play house and I want other people to know that too. I want people to come play with me. And my kids. This is a great kid house. Maybe it’s even a great home. Maybe I have an actual forever home. That thought makes me cry. What does “forever” mean with regards to where you live? I feel like an unrooted person. I have few ties to a particular living situation. That sounds weird. It has never changed my life to live in one house or another. It would now. I am developing patterns and routines related to where I live.
I think it is funny that having Sarah’s stuff here makes me feel like, “Oh! Now we have actual taste in the house!” She’s a lot more into classic literature than I am. Think about that. (Me: graduate work in English lit; her: space science and linux sys admin.) Hilarious. People arrive in five hours. I pleaded with people to be punctual. It’s a thing. When people are late I have panic attacks. I feel lame about it, but it’s a fact. And if it is true then I should treat it as true and let people know that it is a big thing to me, right? It’s not that I actually need all 69 people to show up on the dot of 10. But if no one showed up by 10:30 (a pretty common occurrence) I would be in the bathroom crying and I wouldn’t perk up totally all day. I don’t want that for today. It’s been a draining few months. I want to eliminate angst wherever possible. And now I cross my fingers and pray. I think it will be a wonderful party. I have really good friends.
I should try to rest more. Five hours. Oh man.