November 15, 2010

Stick a Fork in Me. . . I’m Charred

Writing, working out and karate are all therapy for me. It can be challenging to find time for these three things in my life, but when I don’t there is a big difference in how I feel. I realized last night that for the past few weeks, I haven’t been writing nearly enough. I haven’t gone to the gym. . . at all. I can’t even fathom when I can fit karate back into my crazy family schedule. Something needs to change.

I’ve now spent a year of my life on the board of directors at our local swimming and dining club. To say that it has been frustrating and that we have had struggles is a gross understatement. Yesterday was our annual membership meeting and only about 10% of our members actually showed up. As I sat at the front of the room and looked around, I didn’t see very many friendly faces.

Some nice things were said about the job we’re doing, but I heard the criticism. Some of our older demographic didn’t like the way I did the membership cards (the ones I had only a couple weeks to throw together with little help). The previous secretary threw a hissy fit because we retyped her minutes from last year (since the ones she provided were printed out with a toner on its last legs) and put them in a smaller font so that we could fit it on the front and back of one piece of paper instead of printing out four pieces of paper per person. She attacked me before the meeting, spitting my name at me as if it is a dirty word, while I calmly explained font size and paper usage to her before telling her that if she wanted to continue to discuss it, we could do so at a later date. I simply didn’t have the time to get into a pissing match over a font size; and frankly, if you're going to raise your voice at me about a font size, you have issues.

Instead of letting it go, she made a point of raising her hand as soon as the meeting had started. She then explained to the entire ballroom that she could not certify that these were indeed her minutes since we had changed the font size and there was one minor typo. My friends and neighbors in the audience shot me wide-eyed looks of disbelief. I just smiled. It was either that or throw my shoe at her. I chose to try to stay calm.

Throughout the meeting, various groups gave their reports and they were met with great applause. But when a sub-group in our organization, one that actually made money this year, gave their report? No applause. When I reported that we gained over 100 new members for the first time in over three years? No applause. Something just didn't seem right.

When the membership card issue came up, one woman was beyond angry that her first name was not on the card. Her last name and address were not sufficient enough for her. I explained the reason we had to create the cards in this way, about how our new computer system needed to have husband and wife consolidated under one account instead of each person having their own. I would have had better luck convincing a brick wall. Another woman raised her hand and said that there are many people with her last name so how would we know it was her and not someone else. I calmly stated, "Your address is also on the card."

I began secretly praying that someone would put me out of my misery if I ever become the person who stands up at a meeting, furious that the membership card that I never use anyway (because no one ever requests them and because our computer system knows the names of everyone anyway) doesn't have my first name on it.

When the meeting was over, Mr. BBM came up to me and asked me what I would like him to prepare at home for dinner (since I was heading to the private board meeting where we choose officers, of which I am still one of them). I told him "wine." He said, "No seriously. . . " and I said, "No seriously, wine."

I came home last night and did some serious thinking. I have two years left on my "sentence" and I'm going to try to make the best of it. I'm hopeful that we have some new board members who will step up and spend time volunteering the way only a handful of us already on the board do. However, I am beyond disappointed and frustrated with the fact that three of the people who were running for the board and didn't make it were three people who have spent tons of time volunteering and helping out at the club. To them, I'm sure it felt like a slap in the face. It feels that way to me too, except more like a punch in the gut followed by a palm heel to the nose.

I've also decided that I need to step back a bit. I need to put me and my family first again. I am burnt out beyond belief and when I think about the amount of hours I have put into this club and those stupid membership cards and all the flack I took yesterday, it just makes me sick. Let those people make the membership cards next year. If they have time to complain about their first name not being on the card, then they can surely spend some time doing the mindless nonsense that I did for the past few weeks.

I am burnt out beyond belief and I am just hoping that I can make it through these next two years without needing anxiety or blood pressure medication. I'm going to start trying to remedy this with a little medication in the form of some heavy bag therapy today. I so need it.