This Weekend: A Thoroughly Mortifying Experience

There's no way to sugar coat it or silver plate it: this weekend has sucked really bad, and I am discouraged.

Discouraged by what? I guess life in general. I know this is a temporary mood swing of mine, but I have to vent it out somehow... So to those readers who want all sweetness and light from this blog: please stop by again next weekend, because there's no sweetness and light here right now. One of my occasional rants begins here.

I started the weekend in a bad mood already, because earlier this week I got a speeding ticket for supposedly driving 42 in a 25 mile per hour zone. As I sat in my car, waiting for the cop to finish writing my ticket, I looked out my driver's side window, and what did I see? A speed limit sign saying "Speed Limit 40 MPH." Yes, I got a ticket for driving 42 within 300 feet of a sign saying I am allowed to drive 40. Thank you, Leesburg, Virginia! Your "abusive driver fees" are indeed abusive.

In addition to the ticket experience, I also got to go to the dentist this week and be told that my teeth are a wreck needing about $1000 worth of dental work. (Oh, that $1000 figure is what I have to pay after my insurance pays it's share. Sure, I'm grateful I have dental insurance, and I am especially grateful knowing how many people don't have it, but still...this is all very discouraging. Especially because my bank balance most of this week has been negative, and I have been buying gasoline on credit. Now I am supposed to find an extra $1000 and about 5 days of vacation time that I don't have just to get all my teeth fixed.)

Anyway, Friday rolled around and I was all set to leave work at my 8 hour and 45 minute mark...but no, I had to stay there at least another 45 minutes. Normally I don't mind putting in an extra few minutes. But by then I was thoroughly exhausted, trying to cope with a painful gash in my tongue that was caused by the dental hygenist chipping away at one of my fillings such that it left a sharp spot that keeps cutting me, and stressing out over a charity event I had to prepare for.

I drive home, somehow managing to get behind the slowest drivers known to mankind the whole way there. You know the ones? The ones that randomly brake at nothing? I finally break free of them and am driving 65 on a 55 MPH road. Some jackass from West Virginia comes roaring up on me, trying to intimidate me into speeding even more. Why can't I just drive home unmolested by other drivers? Why is the road never empty and clear? Why does nobody want to drive the same speed as me? I think George Carlin has a routine about this. ("Have you ever noticed that anybody driving slower than you is an idiot, and anyone going faster than you is a maniac?"--Carlin)

So I'm already feeling tired, stressed, and antisocial, and I get finally get home, where I promptly get into a fight with my husband. And in this fight, he calls me selfish. Somehow, this accusation has bothered me deeply over the past 24 hours, and I can't seem to shake it. It is mortifying. As in, a strange sensation of being painfully humiliated. Dictionary definition: "to cause (a person) a painful loss of pride, self-respect, or dignity; to mortify." Mortifying is the word that I keep turning over and over again in my mind as being the perfect word to describe this weekend: mortifying. I can't seem to do anything right; there is definitely a deflation and a loss of pride here, and a painful sting.

I guess part of why there is a painful sting is this: I try not to be selfish, and I work really hard at trying not to be selfish. I try to share what I have, and I try to remember that I am very lucky and fortunate, and not everyone gets to be this lucky and fortunate. Just an example: today I worked for a charity at an event for which I donated more than $100 of items; I went to the local firehall to feed some homeless cats; I corresponded with a lady who needs money to reunite her son with his father, who is going to Iraq, and I promised to send her a small amount of money; and I gave out dollars to a handful of kids at the charity event who seemed to need them. And yet, I am viewed by someone who loves me and lives with me as selfish. It makes me wonder: no matter how good I try to be, am I ultimately just doomed to be a bad person? I have to admit I was once a bad person; not an evil one but just a malfunctioning one. And it makes me wonder: is that what I always am? Base and bad at the core? Is there any way to redeem yourself when once upon a time you were a bad person?

How hard, then, do I need to work to be a good person, I wonder. How much do I need to give away? How do I wipe this stain of selfishness off of myself?

So I went to this charity event today with an already-heavy heart. I put on a happy face, though, and did what I had to do. My task was to run a raffle table. At this table were more than 100 items for people to win; I had donated more than $100 worth of these items. We set out the first 100 items. The raffle bag contained 100 winning tickets and 400 losing tickets, a pretty good ratio of wins to losses when you think about it. We had even done some preliminary testing to draw out tickets ahead of time and make sure enough of the tickets drawn were coming up winners.

Well, I guess we were cursed at my raffle table, because people began drawing blank after blank after blank. (The blank tickets were the losing ones; the winning tickets had numbers on them.) Again, I was mortified. This was supposed to be a fun fundraising raffle with a lot of winners--instead, people were getting disappointed (even though we gave out little consolation prizes to people who drew losing tickets). One angry woman started telling eventgoers to stop buying raffle tickets, intimating that it was some sort of scam. "Are all the tickets at the top of the bag blank ones?" she asked me accusatorily, glaring at me.

So here I am, already feeling bad about myself, and now this lady thinks I am operating a scam designed to take people's money. Furthermore, she is running around the room telling everyone else that I am running a scam.

We immediately started removing as many blanks as we could find to drive up the win ratio, but I think the damage was already done. We made less than half of the money I expected we would make for the charity. More than a year of careful planning and purchasing, and the ultimate result: miserable failure. Because of decisions I made, the charity received less money than it should have; people went away disappointed and angry; people came away thinking I was some kind of evil con artist, and I probably sullied both my reputation as a citizen of this town and I probably sullied the name of the charity too (which is why I am not naming it here.)

By 9 PM I was exhausted and had a headache (which I still have--divine punishment?) and my husband and son, whom I had roped into working the raffle table with me, were also exhausted and dying to go home. They had both been up since 6 AM because my son had a multiple hour wrestling match before the charity event. I had missed his match because I thought I would not get home in time to load in for the charity event. I was totally wrong, of course, and so I missed one of my son's last matches of the season for no reason.

So let's tally up the damage that Anna Liisa wrought upon the world today:

1. I forced my family to volunteer at an event they did not want to volunteer at.

2. I let people down and got people mad at me.

3. I failed to raise as much money for the charity as I had promised to do.

4. I tarnished my family's reputation and the reputation of the charity.

5. I missed my son's wrestling match.

Then, at 9:30 PM tonight, I let down the charity organizer. She needed people to help her fold up tables and things. But my family wanted to go home. So I had to leave. I know the organizaer was shocked I did not stay longer to help. But there I was, depressed, defeated, exhausted, and suffering from a headache; with a son and husband who desperately wanted to leave. So I had to go. But I felt guilty about it, like I should have done more.

I guess what I am struggling with is this: I did my best, I worked hard, I tried to do the right thing, and yet it seems like in the end I actually made things worse for everyone. 

I think that is the absolute worst part of it: I put in so much effort...and yet I ruined things. Is this what I really am? A person who ruins things?

I used to think I should live alone as a hermit in the woods. While I no longer think things that extreme, this weekend is the first one in a long time during which I think that maybe it would be both good for me and good for others if I just lived alone for awhile. Then neither my actions nor my inactions could harm others--whatever it is that I am, I would be contained here, unable to touch off long chains of misunderstandings and mistakes.

I guess I am fighting off a feeling that has been with me since the beginning of my consciousness, a feeling that I have been fighting off as far back as I can remember, back to when I was about 4 years old and could start applying words to the feeling: I am not good enough. What is good enough? I am not sure; all I know is: it is not me.

Maybe tomorrow, after a good night's sleep, I will feel differently, and begin again. I don't know.