I mulled over my mini-crisis for a while in the shower this morning, and again on the way back up to the house after putting the boys on the bus. I thought at first that I would just email my choir director, but I didn’t really know what to say. Then I thought I would write about it in my super-secret online diary, but I remembered that no one in choir reads that, and I think that I do need some input from Joe Q. Public in this situation. Or I might need someone to slap me in the face and tell me I’m crazy.
Nonetheless! I felt rejected and overlooked last night and it may just be a rare moment in which I feel like a selfish, ungrateful soprano.
During a rehearsal over choir retreat weekend, I was given a solo on one of the pieces we are doing this coming Sunday. I marked it in my music and called it good. Then in choir rehearsal last night, the choir director turned to another soprano and asked if she would sing it.
I was so confused that I did nothing. I said nothing. I sang through the rest of the piece without a problem and we moved on through the rest of the rehearsal as if it it didn’t happen.
So here’s the dilemma: do I ask my director if she is giving the solo to the other soprano this Sunday? Do I assume that she was just experimenting and just needed to hear it in a different voice?
The other soprano used to be in choir before I arrived and has been touted as one of the best sopranos the choir ever had who had to move. Now she’s back and I’m glad to have a new, strong soprano in my section. I hold no grudges against her or have any ill-feelings about her being there. I’m just confused about this particular situation.
If, indeed, my choir director turns to her for the solo Sunday morning, I don’t know if I should just let it go. My feelings will be hurt, yes, because I was originally asked to do the solo. But I don’t like uncomfortable situations, calling anyone out, etc. Usually, if my feelings are hurt, I bury the hurt and move on; confrontation is not on the list of Things I Enjoy. In fact, if I can avoid confrontation for the rest of my life, I would be perfectly happy.
Now that I am counting down the last year of my twenties, though, I think it’s time I stand up for myself. I need to start confronting those who hurt me. Maybe it’s a stupid thing to feel hurt about, the solo, but it’s a small item on a long list of things I feel need to be addressed before it’s too late. If I start there, I can work up the courage to ask my father why he and his wife won’t come to visit the grandson they haven’t met.