I got drunk Sunday night.
I'm not particularly proud of myself. Nor was I anything that you could consider sloshed, really.
The backstory on why my day sucked so royally would take multiple posts and is very complicated to explain. It also might sound stupid and insignificant to some.
Suffice it to say that I put myself in a vulnerable position at my chorus where a solo was concerned and found that my success in being named "understudy" actually made me less than if I had not auditioned.
It's not the not singing it that gets me. It's the way I was treated.
Promises were made.
Promises were broken. In a very public way.
My director actually won't even look at me right now. And not because I misbehaved. Au contraire.
It's because she knows what she has done.
And that she hurt me. Badly.
Lucky me, though, because I have a best friend who always takes care of me. After an entire day of being obviously scrutinized by others at the way I was being treated, I couldn't get out of the rehearsal hall fast enough.
In my best friend's car. In my best friend's care.
She drove me to her house, fed me pizza and plied me with more wine than I have drunk in a loooooooooooooong time. And it was the good stuff. No strawberry zinfindel here.
I started this post with the intention of making several points.
I wanted to talk about the thoughtless yet very male comment that my husband made that undid all the good that the wine had done.
And how funny it was that it came on the heels of a conversation we had about ADHD (he is ... very) and how the lack of a verbal gatekeeper got him in trouble in the past.
I wanted to talk about the pity party I am having at the thought of having to go back and do another night of choral scrutiny tonight.
I wanted to talk about how petty I feel for making this into a big deal when there are children starving in Ethopia and any other manner of worldly catastrophes that are more important than my ego.
Instead, though, I just want to talk about how incredible my friend is.
How she carefully -- and with intent -- poured nearly an entire bottle of wine into me while we sat for three hours (yes, really) in her jacuzzi.
How she told the story to her husband, her son and my daughter in such a way that they totally got it and I knew she understood and felt as wronged herself.
How she pieced a fragile me back together and, eventually, had me laughing and cracking jokes and telling stupid stories.
How this morning, when I told her what the Wonderhubby had said to me last night, she added him to her list of people she is mad at so I don't have to be.
How she became the mother bear and set out to protect me at all costs.
How she loves me -- almost as much as I love her.
I am a lucky, lucky woman.