There is a reason why the cliche, “It’s not you, it’s me” springs to mind now. It’s not them — it is me. I am going to hunker down for awhile. I veered off course into the needy, whiny, impatient worse parts of my personality with my bigger guild, and had a long talk with Cross Dressing Rogue about it today, and he was a great sounding board. No one owes me anything. No one did anything wrong. I am just still in search of that lovely 10-man group, a group who wants me, and makes space for me, who fights for me, as I would them. A group that knows who I am and understands the personal issues I face, so that when I’m facing a monster in Azeroth the other stresses are washed away, just for a time. I have laughed at the story about a very serious boyfriend I dated for over four years, and I finally found him in a rare, vulnerable, honest moment when I asked him, “You’re never going to marry me, are you?” He said, “No.” Best thing he ever did for me.
However, sometimes though we have to read the signs for ourselves. If someone wants you, they set you a place at the grown-up table. Well, I think the kid table is more fun anyway (one of the worst realizations in the rites of passage realm.) Yes, it hurts that a guildmate thinks less of me, but she assumed I was just being an ass, I guess. Which is a shame, but if believing someone is an ass instead of taking the time to get to truly know them, or giving them the benefit of the doubt, then we’re all diminished I suppose.
So, as is my pattern, I need to recuse myself. I did say raiding would be tough on the inhabitants of the Matty-shack now, and I need to honor my own words, and not lie to myself. I love end-game content. I wish I didn’t. But I love a lot of things I can’t have right now, and the world doesn’t end. I don’t want anyone to feel they have to shuffle or accommodate for me, ever. I don’t want anyone to compromise their time in game. But I owe it to myself and my loved ones not to compromise either. I should never walk away from a keyboard in tears. Everyone deserves the raid team they want. Cross-dressing rogue said, metaphorically, ‘baby, they’re just not that into you.’
Off to a buddy’s guild: known this friend for a long time in game, so I feel safe that since he knows me and my foibles and peccadilloes, and my funny side, too, I’ll be safe.
I have noticed for a long time that I haven’t been burning to write–I would sneak story notes at breaks, scribble things at dawn, and dream of plots in the moonlight. Maybe if I quit worrying about whether or not I’m flasked up or have a spot I can get back some of my personal mojo.
I’m going to go read a book. Tyrion Lannister still loves me.