Last week, I happened upon an acoustic guitar circle at the community center. I had gone to visit someone teaching a different class, but that person ended up not even being there that night. So, as I had been invited to look into the guitar group, and it was well before starting time, I went and spoke with the leader. In our discussion, I asked if it was something to where I could sit in that night to observe, to see how it all worked. He agreed heartily.
Please, keep in mind that I was holding my baby throughout all of this, and I had made it clear that she came with me for everything these days.
So, the other three people eventually show up for the guitar circle, and the leader happily introduces both me and my daughter to each. The circle happens. It’s a lovely time of music and camaraderie. The old guys clearly have known each other for years. They go in a circle, and each plays a song he feels like playing. Sometimes, someone accompanies someone else. A few times, three played and sang together. It was cute and a delight.
Twice, my daughter started to fuss, and I immediately got up and left the room. Otherwise, she sat in a sort of quiet and excited awe as they each played. I was happily relieved that she was not a disturbance.
At the end of the event, they all were saying goodbye and that they hoped to see me again, and at least two of the four directly extended the sentiment to my daughter. It was not until after that and that I was invited on repeat to join the next week that I agreed and put it in my schedule, telling them as much. They expressed positive replies.
I prepped all week. I hadn’t played guitar for real in years… since before I met my husband, really. my fingers were sore, but they had built up calluses enough by last night for me to play at least once through a few shortened songs. So, I was ready.
I had stopped at the grocery store this afternoon, and so had to drop of groceries, pick up the guitar and music, and head to the community center. As I was putting items into the freezer, my right thumb very bizarrely smashed into the side of the drawer on these openings I had never even known we’re there. It split a whole piece of my thumb nail. And it hurt. I finished with the groceries, got my stuff, trimmed my nail, and headed out. I called my husband, who was not much help, but my mom called while we were talking, and I talked with her instead about it all. I didn’t think I was going to be able to pay guitar. I was willing to try, but I truly was concerned the split nail – it was already filling with blood beneath the surface, and the split was jagged and went about two centimeters toward the center of the nail, where it is still attached to the skin. I was so excited about finding this opportunity, and here I was, suddenly unable to participate due to something that felt really stupid and that was quite bizarre. She got it and helped me calm down. She also sang to my daughter who had been crying the past half hour, putting me at the edge of my wits in the first place, before the incident with my now-throbbing thumb.
So, I got there and went in. The rooms had changed from last week. The room this time had tables and chairs everywhere, and not much space at all. It was absolutely not a good environment for me to have my daughter, who, I knew, needed to crawl around. We needed the space of the huge room from last week, with no tables to chairs set up at all. Not this cramped room for a scrunched 16 people, already filled with tables and chairs. If it was that room, perhaps I wouldn’t even try to play, since it wouldn’t work to set down the baby. Perhaps I wouldn’t even stay long or at all. I didn’t want to have to do that, but I signed up for the other room and the other room would have worked. Maybe the rooms are wrong, I thought. We just would have to wait to see.
So, I went to the bathroom to change the baby’s diaper and to use the bathroom myself. Ran into a sweet older lady who held the baby for her own enjoyment for a bit. Yes, in the bathroom. Then I headed back to my stuff that I had set outside the designated room. When I got there, the leader of the group walked out of the tiny room – So, it is that room for sure tonight – with a sad expression.
He greeted me, apologized ‘if he had given the wrong impression,’ blah-blah-blah baby’s a distraction and is not allowed. I told him that I understand. I put away the wipes I’d been carrying, as he tried to say more. He was new to leading the group and he isn’t very experienced in doing so, etc. etc. I told him that it makes sense and that I understand that, too. I then put the baby back in the stroller, which I knew was the absolute last thing she wanted at the time, and she started crying loudly. I couldn’t help but think that the crying supported his idea that the baby was a distraction, even though it was irrelevant since strapping a baby into a stroller is not the same thing as playing nice guitar music to it while it sits happily un-strapped somewhere.
So, I went home, baby crying the whole way. When we got home, she was happy as a clam the moment she was free from the stroller, and she had a great time crawling around the next few hours. I cried for a bit, feeling stupid, even though I had been very cautious and intentional about making sure the baby was allowed and welcome. I know babies aren’t allowed and welcome everywhere. I have been very cautious about never assuming and always asking or being clear that she comes with me if I come for whatever it is. And I was this time, too, but my brain was fussing at me for not having done even more to make sure. So, in addition to feeling unwanted, I also felt very stupid.
Obviously, the group has full rights to say babies aren’t welcome. It isn’t what happened so much as how it happened. I had said and shown that I came with a baby. I was very cautious last week to make sure they were okay with her presence as well as mine. At the end, they gave extra and explicit encouragement for her to come back with me. And it was only after that that I agreed to come back. So, giving me a week to prepare and look forward to this, only to tell me I’m uninvited when the time comes was really sh***y.
I don’t recall who all said he hoped to see the baby again – I only recall one specifically because he surprised me in doing so, as I’d thought he might be bothered by her since she regularly waved her arms off and on a bit in delight while he played – but I know at least two of the four did so.
I imagine that either the leader hated having her there – though that seems unlikely, given how happily he introduced us as each person arrived, including to the person who arrived way late, after several song had been played – or one of the other three hated having her there, and expressed as much to the leader, since he’s the leader – most likely, it seems. So, probably, he had to take it as part of his leader duties to uninvited us, because an established member told him that he didn’t want us there. In such a case, majority doesn’t rule, but complaints do. I really think that is the most likely case, given how he was talking about that he’s still new to leading the group and learning how to do that well. And that may not be the case, really – I don’t know what the case is. The point is that it sucked.
And, you know, I think God was preparing me for it. I had considered strongly not going, but had wanted to grow as a person. That’s why I had asked questions ahead of time, and learned how it worked, asked if I could just observe first, etc., etc. I worried I couldn’t play anything well enough, but encouraged myself and found a few simple songs to play, sorted through some wonky and wrong chords and found the right ones. I kept at it all because I wanted to grow as a person.
I was incredibly crushed to have my thumb nail smashed in a way that I probably wouldn’t be able to play for a few days. I considered them not going. But I held to wanting to grow, and I went, even though it wasn’t likely I’d be able to play, and I brought my guitar and music, just in case. Then the room change happened. Another level of my mind considering my no longer participating.
And so, when the leader greeted me with a sad expression, my brain was already doubly primed for not participating. It still sucked massively. But my face didn’t even turn red and I wasn’t even unkind – I was understanding to the guy. Really, I was. And I said as much, and I said it honestly. I meant it.
And, frankly, I was surprised at myself in the moment for taking it in and handling it all so well. I was sad and frustrated, but not embarrassed and crying, as I typically would have been. I was calm and collected and genuinely understood his discomfort and forgave him his poor leadership, while respecting his efforts to lead better.
I cried afterward, because it still sucked to be rejected, and especially so for being fully myself. I wasn’t putting on airs or trying to impress or anything. I had been honest and respectful and only shown me and my daughter exactly as we are. And we had received messages of being wanted, but then got the opposite when we actually showed up. I feel like that makes being unwanted doubly worse. Haha
Anyway, so, that sucked. I’d had some thoughts about being really mean and all, but I know I don’t need to be. God is guiding me, and I trust Him. This was a way for me to grow even more than having been part of the group would have done, so fair enough. And it got me back into playing again. Hoping that will stick.
Ugh… thank you for listening to my emotions being processed. Now, I’m going to sleep. Goodnight.
Post-a-day 2025
hannah ananas 