I will find my own way out…

Sunday I saw my first Dave & Tim show… the Dave Matthews fans out there know what a treat that is, especially in a year that the full band is not touring. 

I’ve downloaded, and purchased, several live shows of Dave Matthews playing with Tim Reynolds so I knew it would be a bit milder than the 13 DMB concerts (yes, I realize that’s nothing to a true fan) that I’ve seen but it was really more than I expected. 

At a DMB concert I get lost in the music. There is absolutely nothing like it to me. 

I don’t know if it’s because Dave’s gotten me through so many difficult times in my life… And so many happy ones. My best memories are associated with Dave Matthews songs as are all my major relationships over the last 15 years… the one who died… the rebound man… the man who gave me my daughter… the man who tried to be a father to my daughter and failed… the man who tried to be my friend but I wouldn’t trust him… 

So many memories… so much time… so melodic a life…

Dave really is writing the soundtrack to my life. I’ve often felt connected to his music, both his words and melodies. Grey St and 41 and Dancing Nancies in particular…

“All the colors mix to grey…” 

and “I’ll go in this way and find my own way out…” 

and “Could I have been anyone other than me?”

When Leroy died and the band came out with the tribute album… and I listened to Dave put into words the grief and sadness he felt over his friend and mentor’s accidental death, I finally felt someone understood me. Not just about Dennis but about all the things I’ve lost of myself due to circumstances and coincidences of life. 

So last Sunday was magical. And more powerful than I expected of a Dave & Tim show especially with the line up of special guests who joined them on stage including Ben the Sax Guy… who held his own little concert after the show as concert goers walked to their cars and ubers.

I danced for almost three hours, barefoot in the grass, eyes closed, enjoying the sounds and smells so prominent when you are at a Dave concert… feeling the aches and pains that often accompany a night of unabashed abandon both in dancing and walking… the old friends you go with and the new friends you meet… it was, is, and will always be a spiritual mecca for me… 

For I will go in this way and find my own way out… always…

Set list from the show 😉

Crazy Beautiful

… a term I’ve heard that’s been used to describe me. 

I have no concept of my own looks in the eyes of others although I do find beauty when I look in the mirror.  My only long term girlfriend once looked at me and said “You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?” And, she was probably just in love, but she was also right. I have no clue. 

Guys never called me beautiful. I was cute… or, omg, fuck-able.

Because that’s what a girl wants to hear, right?!?!

Anyway, I know I’m fuck-able. And cute. And innately beautiful in a non-barbie kind of way. And… incredibly smart, too.

Well, about some things. I ran over my bare foot with the weed whacker two weeks ago. And my finger tips are smooth from all the dishes I’ve grabbed out of the oven with out mitts.

Anyway. 

Crazy Beautiful. 

There’s a reason I’m crazy. Especially about relationships. I watched the only man who has ever really loved me, die suddenly. 

It’s traumatic to say the least, and maybe it doesn’t excuse the callous way I treat men but the pain is truly unbearable. I’ve never gotten over it. 

Maybe I never will. 

I know now that I start throwing bricks on my figurative wall as soon as I start liking a guy. And then the first time they screw up, even if it’s something really trivial and stupid, I start flinging those bricks up on that wall as fast as my 44 year old arms will go. 

And I intuitively know exactly what will drive that romantic relationship into the dust, and I do it. 

I can’t stop it once it starts. 

It’s an unending panic attack until I either pass out from exhaustion or we somehow work it out. But if we work it out, it usually just starts the vicious cycle over again. 

I’m broken. 

It sucks. 

Anxiety Girl

Have you ever been out in public with someone who has social anxiety?

I’m, like, stealth, ninja bomber, zipping in between isles… trying to hide out behind the end caps and various other pop up displays. The object of the game is to avoid making eye contact with other human beings at all costs. 

Like a cat who thinks hiding her head under the sofa means no one can see her. 

Or the ostrich who buries her head in the sand… although, she’s really looking for food, which, coincidentally, anxiety girl is too.

Because that’s me. Anxiety Girl. One of many.

Able to jump to conclusions in 0 to 30 seconds.

Able to second guess every thought, word, and action until they mean something utterly different than what was intended. 

That’s my super power. 

And… it’s especially difficult with a social butterfly of a 6 year old daughter in tow, who tells her life story to anyone who will listen.