For some reason, I often use the line ‘I ain’t no quitter’ to myself to make myself smile and it turns out it’s from a Shania Twain song I’ve never heard of. Who knows why that’s stuck in my head for years, eh?
Anyway, I say it often but I was and I am. Sort of.
Saturday, I just gave up. Temporarily, of course. I spent a lot of the morning crying about a lot of different things. I still played a game at the same time because that’s just me but it felt almost liberating to just…stop. Stop fighting. Accept it had been a hard week. A hard month. A hard year. A hard pandemic. It’s taken me until today to truly feel ok and able to cope again. Less crying throughout the rest of Saturday and Sunday but still…it took a bit of time. I guess I quit. Just for one day. After so much fighting through, I was done for a little bit.
I quit again today but it was a different form of quitting. I had concert tickets. Back in April 2020, the Manic Street Preachers who I’ve adored for about 25 years arranged a concert to thank the NHS for their efforts during the pandemic. In that optimistic way that we all felt back in April 2020, it was meant to be in July 2020. Then it got moved to December 2020 and then it got moved again until September 2021 - tonight, to be exact.
I was ready for it all the other times. Not healthy but good enough. The world wasn’t ready for it though so it never happened. Now, the world is (presumably) ready for it and I’m not. So, it’s not happening. And I’m sad. Very sad. It marks more than just missing a concert. It feels like a tiny bit of a life I should have had not happening. I’ll see them live one day, I hope, but for now, it’s pretty crap. It’s a loss on top of many other losses. For now, this Monday night isn’t how it should be. Not in the slightest.
I’ll make the best of it. I generally do (even Saturday, I was playing a game while crying, after all!) but I feel cheated and a part of me still feels like I’ve given in even though I know that sometimes you have to give in.