Yes, I said it. The very things that I chose to do for fun, my hobbies, kill me sometimes. I hate that when it happens – but let me explain.
Hobbies to recuperate from daily life
Being a stay-at-home-mom, it is nice to get out of my kid bubble every now and then. Nice is an understatement, actually it is crucial for my sanity. Having moved back to Bremen allowed me to rejoin a choir that I used to sing in a few years back already. And what can I say, most of the time I love it. Many singers are people I’ve known for along time, a few of them I call close friends. I enjoy bonding with them over music, and even though we are just amateurs it is awesome to see what we can achieve together. With the positive side effect of me focusing on something completely different than Bubsi or running the household for once. A relief.
If only it was always fun
Alas, I am a very sensitive person. I pick up on bad moods quickly and I let it influence me. People criticize a lot without realizing the strong effect it has on me. I know (or hope?) it is unintentional but it still hurts. Let me explain.
The choir has its annual Spring Concert in early May. As we are a small amateur choir on a budget, singers are expected to help out with the advertising. In groups of two, we distribute 5000 flyers and hang 50 posters. My friend and I volunteered to hang posters in the city center, as we both live there and it is easier to handle ith Bubsi in tow. The organizers gave us 30 posters and yesterday, we went to do the job. The company was nice, the weather was reasonable, and the toddler agreeable… Yet it all went downhill from there.
Poster Nr. 1: done!
How the crap unfolded
Contrary to our expectations it was rather difficult to find places that would accept to display the posters. After three hours asking and being refused often,we had hung just five posters. We gave up and returned home to report to the organizers and ask what they wished to do with the remaining posters. We had done our job after all. And even offered some alternative ideas.
Well. Instead of recognition and thanks we receive a reprimand that we must have overlooked a sign where not to hang a poster. Oops, we may have, sorry. Not just that though: we apparently went to the wrong area in the first place (where the manager had explicitly asked us to go though….???). Oh and also, the posters were now needed elsewhere entirely and someone had tried to “hunt me down” over it already. Sure if you think calling my phone once without leaving a message or text constitutes a hunt. Honestly, if you miss a call from a friend, do you immediately think it must be urgent and can’t wait until you actually have time and energy to respond properly?
To end the notorious emails back and forth that were chipping at my self-esteem and energy, I offered to return the posters myself. Knowing full well that a roundtrip would take two hours out of my day and force Papa to be with Bubsi alone, even though he has to work. I just couldn’t handle it anymore. Being given crap for the voluntary work I did to help out. Fuck this. Am I overreacting?
Wrong world…even the station flipped over in anger