Literally. My stomach has been upset for the last 45 minutes while watching his StageIt show with Steve Carlson. Don’t get me wrong. I love Kane. I think he’s talented and funny and handsome. And he’s got that Okie/Texas hybrid thing going, like me, which only makes him hotter.
But as soon as he was a live image in front of my face instead of a canned image on the screen or voice in my iTunes playlist, my stomach started twisting into knots.
During the concert, Kane and Carlson referenced the fact that they had some friends in the room with them, and they could be heard offscreen. I imagined myself in the room, watching. Suddenly, I felt like I did back in college, when hanging out the members of Phi Kappa Sigma. See, these boys weren’t the typical greeks. Far from it. They started out as a group of friends who decided it’d be fun to become the Beta Eta chapter of the Phi Kaps on the UNT campus. They petitioned to reopen the chapter, and my freshman year was their first year in existence.
I don’t recall exactly how I met them. Probably through my roommate, Jen. She would go on to join a sorority, but, while we roomed together in the dorms, her sparkling personality netted her this group of friends, and I came along for the ride. I’d go to their parties. I went on a camping trip with them. We were unofficial little sisters, the only two out of about half a dozen girls who continually hung out with them that DIDN’T jump in and out of bed with the guys. When I did lose my virginity at the end of freshman year, it WAS to one of the Phi Kaps, but, that’s too short a story to go into. Much too short. I mean, SHORT.
I did have a crush on one of them, a guy who went by the nickname of “JR”. Welcome to Texas. Of course, he was mad…for my roommate. Even though I was friends with a few of the boys, and could talk and laugh and have fun with them, whenever JR came around, my “tongue dropped out of my head”, as he put it once. I was just too intimidated to communicate with him. He was handsome and funny and cool, and I was just this insecure girl who adored him.
It drives me nuts. When I’m at work, I’m funny and confident and well-respected. I keep my co-workers in stitches. But every time I’ve ventured out of my comfort zone, into the land of “the beautiful people”, I feel completely out of place. Whether it’s walking down the 3rd Street Promenade in Santa Monica or even taking a stroll down 2nd street in Long Beach, I feel like an alien. Like someone who doesn’t belong. I’d be lying if I said I felt like I fit in when I was thinner, but the added weight I carry now makes me feel even more like an elephant amongst gazelles.
Imagining I’m sitting in the room listening to Christian Kane and Steve Carlson sing their songs made me think of being in JR’s presence, or how awkward I felt when Cybil, my former acting coach, would cast the skinny girl as the ingenue in class and me as the mother, grandmother, insert other frumpy character <here>. Awkward. Out of place. Not good enough.
Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. I can only assume this text from Baggage Reclaim applies…
Much of your emotional schooling happens in childhood and if how you’re treated by your parents (or people of authority) and your emotional interactions didn’t communicate that you’re a person of value and worthwhile, that’s the lens that you’ll use to navigate and view the world.
From the age of 6 to the age of 15 I had five different people either physically or sexually abuse me to some degree. Some “minor” transgressions, others far more serious. Being told in deed (and sometimes in word) that you’re nothing and don’t deserve the right to your own body is devastating. It’s been decades, and I still suffer under the weight of it.
Tonight I should have been able to enjoy a short little concert put on by some very talented musicians. Maybe some day my insecurities won’t crash the party.