where's my super suit?

last week i vague posted to facebook mentioning that it had been a rough week and i could use some support.

i don't like vaguebooking, but i wasn't quite ready to dump my brain at that point and really did need something, someone. SOME interaction.

this week i was able to meet up with one of my favorite people, someone who listens without judgement, HEARS what i'm saying, and doesn't sugar coat or water down responses either way- if i'm being ridiculous or if i'm being real. it's hard to know sometimes when it's just your voice on a loop in your head. sometimes real things can take on a ridiculous tangent unintentionally, or after a series of too many things it can start to seem like maybe you're just being too sensitive if THIS MANY THINGS are causing distress.

this week over drinks and dinner she let me take my time getting around to what i needed to say, no judgement, no laughing, no walking away out of disgust or annoyance or triviality or anything.

and as i've continued to process and reevaluate and look at every different angle and possibility and the usual overthinking junket my brain goes on, i've gone back and forth about whether or not it's worth writing about, if anyone else would care, if it's dumb to put my petty little problems out there.

because that's what i worry about. not about the actual problems (well, those too, but not mainly). i worry about annoying people by talking about my problems. i don't want to be trivial or a burden or the person that everyone rolls their eyes when i say there's something going on becasue drama, drama, drama. i don't want to repeat myself, which happens ALL THE TIME in my brain (and in my journal). i don't want people to be like "ugh. this again?" because that's how i feel ALL THE TIME about myself.

but this particular series of crap was BIG. and, i don't know, two weeks out and i'm still having a hard time not getting emotional about it, so it IS big. even if just to me. and maybe it's happening to someone else, and i don't want ANYONE else to feel this way, so maybe getting it out there will let one other person know it's not just them. and if even ONE other person doesn't have to feel this? WORTH IT.

i have finally found my super power, and it's a SHITTY one.

i have the power of invisibility.

and trust me, it's not all it's cracked up to be.

the signs have been there for a while. all the stood up dates, all the times bartenders have blatantly ignored me, the million and two times i've repeated myself to the teenager.

it became crystal clear at the seattle erotic art festival two weeks ago.

i had been looking forward to the event ALL YEAR. last year was amazing. the performances, the sculptures, the photos, drawings, literature, interactive pods, ALL OF IT. the crowd was a gorgeous mix of anyone and everyone at every kink and security level. some people walking around in next to nothing with just pasties on. some people in gorgeous bondage corsets, costumes, gimp suits, stilts, drag, regular clothes. EVERYTHING. it was this mismash of people from every background imaginable i'm sure, all gathered together in a place of mutual acceptance to celebrate sexuality in all forms in a safe space. it's what we were ALL there for, so no judgement, no sideways looks, just people being people.

i was SO EXCITED to go back this year. the ONE PLACE the tattooed fat girl who loves art and music and creativity and sexuality can fit in. the ONE PLACE i wouldn't feel like the freak because i start "those" conversations. the ONE PLACE i could openly admire women and men. the ONE PLACE i could belong.

and i planned the weekend, marked it on the calendar, made a hotel reservation, followed the twitter account and watched the artist selection be announced and the lead up happen and the posts of the whole weekend kicking off and the schedule of all the different parts and pieces.

i drove to seattle (with the teenager and three of his friends...they were attending a concert). i wore a little black dress, did my hair, put on bold red lipstick, took a lyft to the event center.

i went inside and ALL THE ART. oh my god. ALL THE ART. everything you can imagine. photos of legos doing bondage play. a d-rex battling a tri-cera-cocks. a storm trooper doing suspension bondage. live demonstrations of suspensions. live drag/costume/shoe contests. poetry readings. electric play demonstrations. a piercing suspension (can't watch, i can feel too much of the pain. thanks empathic abilities). it was another AMAZING show. there was a huge crowd of people wandering all over, taking it all in.

and i was invisible.

three hours. i walked around for three hours. i looked at ALL the art work, every single piece. multiple times. a massive wall piece of sheet metal air brushed in perfect patterns then stained and sealed to make a gorgeous textured/colored vagina. the craftsmanship and skill to so carefully manage the metal air brushing strokes and get the stain in exactly the right places...it was gorgeous.

i walked around for three hours. THREE HOURS. not one person said a thing to me.

i was invisible.

people would literally bump into me and not even say anything. i would try to start conversations and people would walk away mid sentence.

the ONE PLACE i thought i would fit in and not only did i NOT fit, i didn't even exist.

i'm not a petite girl. i don't blend in very well. i was in a sleeveless dress which means ALL my tattoos were visible. even people in the taco bell drive thru notice my tattoos.

and NOTHING. i didn't exist.

fuck man. that was a kick to the gut. the event i had been waiting a full year for. the place i thought i would find my tribe. the place i thought i could be myself and talk to people and make connections.

fuck.

that hurt.

(**IMPORTANT NOTE: this was not, in any way, the fault of the art festival, just my own issue. if you get a chance next year or any year, GO TO THE FESTIVAL. it's amazing. the artwork is outstanding and there's classes, demonstrations, workshops, it really, really outstanding.**)

the next night my oldest son wanted to meet up and talk. we've been communicating a little more via text recently...not just the usual "i need money" texts. i haven't had the opportunity to SEE him in several years. things haven't been smoothing sailing since he moved to seattle, to put it lightly. and he wanted to meet up in a hookah lounge in seattle and talk. i was so excited. i was going to actually get to meet one of his girlfriends and get to see him and just...hang out.

it didn't exactly go that way. he spent 45 minutes dressing me down, calling me a liar, saying every horrible thing he could think of, demanding i tell him details about things that have happened to me so he could "decide if it's real or not." he tore me apart for never dating but dating the wrong people in the same sentence. he said some terrible, horrible things about the death of his step mother/baby brother that...holy fuck. if he even said half of it or implied any of those thoughts to his dad...no wonder things are so terrible between them right now. it was bad. it was REALLY, REALLY bad. after 45 minutes of spewing every venemous, terrible thing, he told me that i could contact him when i'm "ready to finally tell the truth and stop beating around the bush," then he walked out on me. the kid that used to yell at me for telling too much truth and answering all his questions, as honestly and age appropriately as possible, now calling me a liar and walking out on me.

fuck.

strike two.

that's a really fucking shitty back to back.

that's a one-two punch that left my ears ringing a little bit.

so i came home after the weekend and tried to process as much as possible.

oh, and my therapist is out of the office until july recovering from surgery. just a fun little side note.

so. i'm processing. functioning. struggling. REALLY, REALLY struggling.

then my brother called for his monthly check in.

why do i even answer those calls? especially after a shitty weekend like that?

it's all fine until he hears me refer to our mother by her proper name. she's no longer a "mom" to me. she's just a person i (barely) know, so i refer to her by name. he literally laughed at me. LAUGHED. AT. ME. "that sounds so weird. why do you call her that?" because she hasn't been a great person to me. "oh, i just thought you had issues with her husband, not her." DO YOU EVER LISTEN DUDE? i've said the same. damn. thing. every. single. time. this. comes. up.

so i try to explain it again. "oh. i didn't know any of that."

yeah. thanks for not listening to me. ever.

brought to you by the same brother that was shocked when i wrote a short story for his son a few years ago. "when did you start writing?" WHEN I COULD HOLD A PENCIL. thanks for noticing me, ever, in our childhood.

the power of invisibility. it started young. apparently.

and it just...it sucks, you know?

and i'm not a very social person. i don't keep hoards of friends. and i'm not great about keeping in touch with the ones i do have. and i ALWAYS feel like a burden when i try to make plans...my schedule has NOTHING and i always feel like it's such a pain in the ass to try to arrange meet ups because other people actually have lives, and so i just don't do it. i don't want to make them feel bad for being busy. so i just...don't. and when i do go out...i just...don't fit in. i'm the awkward one that's moderately tolerated. i'm good for bringing the weird factor, the inappropriate stories.

and so i just sink further into invisibility.

it's just me and the puppy at home every night and i'm not sure if you know this or not, but no matter how stoned you get, puppies don't talk back.

and i HAVE people. i know i do. but they all live in my phone. i know if i really need to i can text, snapchat, message, tweet people and chat. and they are all AMAZING people that i am so lucky to know. they're positive and supportive and really, really just beautiful people.

but that doesn't really...i mean...it doesn't really help with the invisibility thing. you know?

and so, here it is. i'm struggling.

i feel like i don't exist outside making sure the teenager has food and money, the puppy gets fed and walked, and all the necessary papers get shuffled at my jobs.

PLEASE DON'T TAKE THIS THE WRONG WAY OR READ INTO IT: I'M NOT IN A DANGEROUS PLACE: i'm really, really not.
but if i just disappeared, road trip to mexico style, would anyone *really* notice?

if i just attached a teardrop trailer to the back of the jeep and started driving...it may be inconvenient for a few people for a day or two...but then?

and i know. find a group! volunteer! get out there! meet people!

yeah. we all know how good i am at that. you mean like just going to the concerts alone? or the art exhibits? dinner and a movie? maybe try speed dating? puppy play dates? community events at my apartment? maybe i should start a book club? what about trying an app to meet new people? you know they have ones for just making friends now, right? maybe if i have TWO jobs it will double the circle of people i interact with and get to know, right?

or would all that just give me a chance to see how my invisibility cloak looks with several different pair of shoes?

spoiler alert: it's the shoe thing.

so. i'm still processing. i'm trying to find new solutions. i'm still plugging along.

but if anyone else out there stumbles across my random corner of the internet and sees this: you're not the only one. you're not invisible. you do exist. you do matter. and i know, exactly, how hard that may be to believe. but don't stop trying to believe it. I SEE YOU. maybe you can recognize the shimmer on my cloak the way i can see the shimmer on yours. i don't know where i belong. i haven't found my place yet. but i'm not giving up the thought that maybe some day i will. maybe i'll find a space where i really belong with people who see me. it's out there for everyone. so me of us just have to look a little harder. and i'm going to keep looking.