I have kind of some general thoughts about BMI that I’ll be sharing over the next few days, and this is first up.
After class on a Monday with a not-good presentation for me, a bunch of people were going to Gutenberg! the Musical!
I even had a ticket that I’d bought on a day when there was a super sale, on the off-chance I’d want to go.
And I did want to go!
But I was like, “I can’t show my face here. All these people must believe that I am that failure who just failed in class. And I don’t know how to change anyone’s perception anymore, since this seems to be slipping away from me. And I think it might be too late to change perception at this point…”
So, I forfeited my ticket, and gave it to this super nice girl in the class, because I decided to impose the rule on myself that I “wasn’t allowed” to go.
[Edited to add: To add more context that makes more sense, now that the assault story has come to light, the person who assaulted me was going to be there. And I didn’t love the idea of being out with him, as I sort of wanted to tread very, very carefully around him (*sings* the cycle of abuse!). Not everything revolved around being assaulted. I was very sad my song didn’t go well (though what could have when I was in such a messy place in life?). And while the assault was a giant deal, I don’t want to use it as a complete crutch. Anyway… end of extra context.]
I walked home from BMI – which, granted, was really nice. And then I just went to bed while they all went out and had fun.
I saw a picture later on social media of everybody together wearing hats from the show.
And it made me really sad.
And it’s like, “Whhhhhy Aurora?! Why are you so freaking sad? Nobody told you you couldn’t go. Almost everybody-ish in that group made you feel pretty welcome. You chose not to go. In this instance, at this time, you are not being ostracized. You are not being left out. You are doing it to yourself! This is all you, and your in-your-head stuff, and decisions you are making.
And it’s such a weird feeling. It’s as though it’s hard to even explain it. It almost feels like I’m tied up in a straight jacket, struggling so hard to get free. And I’m yelling, “Help! Help! Little help over here?”
But it’s not even locked in the back. It’s like, “Aurora. Honey. Just slide your arms apart. It’s really no big deal.”
And yet, I can’t seem to do that for myself.
If I go out with the BMI people, I feel sad, ’cause I feel so bad about myself in their presence. If I don’t go out with them, I feel sad because that is what this is supposed to be – a super cool exciting time in our lives where you get built-in friends in New York, and you’re geeking out about musical theater all the time.
And they look like they’re having a blast… And I don’t get to enjoy it [“get to” – again, because of me, not them].
So, basically anything to do with BMI makes me sad. Which sucks because I have it once every week.
At least I am realizing that in at least some ways, I’m the one making myself miserable. And maybe, just maybe I could work to change it. If I can be strong enough…
[Edited to add: I know we said this up there, but just to reiterate, this was an abused woman talking, who was in the midst of an awful relationship that was getting more awful by the day with sexual assault guy – who was involved in BMI! So, yes, it’s possibly that I took failed songs too hard and maybe I played into some of this, but by the same token, it’s possible I was already (sort of rightfully) feeling a little ostracized (ish) by him, and definitely had a lot of other concerns/things going on in my brain than just ‘the song didn’t go well’ (even if I was also upset the song didn’t go well… if that makes sense).]
[For more on my experience in BMI, you can go here.]
[For the series on sexual assault, you can go here.]
[Thanks!]