Old Habits Die Hard
I know it has been a really long time since I’ve actually put words down on paper, but in all fairness, I’ve been working. I’ve been out on the road since September 10th, and I’ve been working so hard that I’ve actually lost 15 pounds. So, the fact that I haven’t written anything since August 31st is understandable, but something happened a few nights ago that I feel like I have to put it down on paper.
Over the last 2 or 3 years I have been proud of myself for speaking up and being my own person, but then a few nights ago I allowed a 60ish-year-old, white, Republican male, push me around and force me into doing something I didn’t really want to do. Now relax it wasn’t, in the grand scheme of things, anything major, but it was the principle that makes me angry. Let me explain.
On the tour bus, my bunk is 6 inches shorter, top to bottom, than all of the other bunks. There is also a DVD/tv contraption that takes up about another 3 inches, so when I describe my bunk as coffin-like, it is not a far stretch. Several bruises on my knees and being an expert in screaming profanity under my breath later, I learned to navigate my coffin, and it was starting to feel like home on the road. However, because I tend to tell my husband everything I mentioned my bruises. That conversation started a domino effect that turned my husband into his Tour Manager role, who then told the bus driver my sorry story and asking the bus driver to remove the DVD/tv thingy. This conversation went on for about three weeks, until the other night when the bus driver decided he was going to move me into a new bunk.
I had been hesitant to switch because that meant I had to move one of my cast members. Because this was the first time they were riding on a tour bus and they were so excited, the mom in me took over, and I just adjusted as all moms do and I was fine. Fine that is, until a 60ish-year-old male thought he knew better than me and made an announcement on the bus essentially saying if someone didn’t switch with Gina than he was just going to pick someone himself.
At that moment, when those words came booming out of his mouth I had so many emotions swirling around in my head, but it was as if I had forgotten how to speak. I meekly said, “Please don’t do this, I’m fine,” but he plowed right over me and then next thing I knew, one of my cast members was moving his stuff into my bunk. I was angry, I was really angry, I was sad, I was embarrassed, but I just picked up my stuff and moved it into my new bunk.
With all those emotions running around in my head the most prominent emotion was disappointment. I had been so proud of myself this last year; I had figured out who I was, what I firmly believed in and I thought I could and would stand up for myself in any situation. It turns out when the rubber hits the road; it’s easier to revert right back to the old me then it is to stand up for myself. I was left wondering why it’s so hard to speak my mind. Wondering why I’m so afraid of confrontation. Wondering why I just couldn’t just firmly say No. That night as I laid in my new bunk I gave myself a break and promised I would do better next time. I would be stronger; I would be the person I wanted my daughter and cast members would look up to. I realized this incident is not life-shattering and it did make me realize we are all constantly a work in progress.