Feeling called to plan something for the community, I decided on a craft day. Middle of summer, outdoors in a lovely park. Everyone brings their own craft to work on, a lunch to eat, and a comfy blanket to sit on. Simple enough. The only thing I would have to plan was the location and the permit situation.
Planning Time
Simple, simple,simple… until it wasn’t. I contacted my county’s Parks and Recreation service, asking what I would need to provide to them to make this happen. It seemed so easy. Fill out a questionnaire, estimate the turn out, pick a park. I picked a local park and the date I settled on was in the dead of summer. July 19th.
Everything seemed to be working smoothly. I made a flyer, I posted it to my Instagram. At this point, my delusion was deep and I thought to myself: What more do I have to do?
Parks and rec were emailing me consistently. They suggested a different park than I originally planned. I was okay with it because it was an art center too! What better location for my craft day. Parks and rec even mentioned that their programming department would love to work with me, to plan new events like this one. I was ecstatic! Me, a SAHM, given the opportunity to do event planning with the county! The experience that could give me? For a job I wanted so desperately? It was a dream.
Sticky Situation
Crap hit the fan rather quickly. It was radio silent. No one was answering my emails anymore. The date was getting closer and closer. Then, all of a sudden, it was a week out from the event. Still… crickets.
On a Monday, I called the park directly. I needed to know everything was going okay. I was feeling so anxious. A breakdown was impending.
I talked to a lovely woman on the phone who told me that she had no record of my event being there at all. That was odd. I paid for the permit. I had the confirmation paper and all. They hadn’t heard of my event at all?
All this time, I was wondering when the park would post about my event, would list it on their website. And to tell me that they had NO IDEA? I was crushed.
Breakdown ensued after the phone call ended. She promised to get back to me with more information in a couple hours. I walked over to my mom and my grandma and told them the news. I don’t think my event is happening.
A tearful hour later, I got a call back. They found my permit, but they were still surprised that no one from parks and rec told them directly about the event. We devised a plan to change the date to give me more time.
Now, here is the kicker. The park could not advertise for me. Like, at all. They couldn’t put up my flyer, couldn’t post about it. I signed up for a permit, not a partnership. Not to mention, I over paid for the permit too. The kind lady from the park clearly felt bad, but the most she could do was refund the extra I paid.
When that phone call was over, I cried a lot. How was I supposed to advertise this event by myself? I had no experience doing that.
Time to Get to Work
I gave myself 20 minutes to cry out my frustration, and then I got to work. Calling around to different local craft stores, craft spaces, and bars, I was trying to see if I could advertise my event with them. Just give them a flyer to hang up in a communal space. Almost everyone said “Uh, YES!” Some other places offered to print it for me and hang it up too.
I kept posting about it on my Instagram. I ventured onto Reddit and posted on there. There was engagement. People were asking questions. Friends were saying they were going to come out. Things were looking up.
Even though the event was meant to be a BYOC (Bring Your Own Craft), I thought that if people were coming to the park to walk, maybe they would like to join in on the fun. They would need a craft though. SO my mom, grandma, and I went through our individual craft stashes and the dollar tree craft aisle. We came up with so many things people could use to make something. We had tables to set up and made a sign in sheet, a QR Code form. I was as ready as I could be. I even put out an FAQ sheet on the things one would need to know about the event, about the park.
THE EVENT
The new date arrives. August 9th. I get to the park an hour early with my husband and son. Setting up, I cheerfully watch my son run around the park with his dad, his giggles brightening my mood. I was so anxious I felt sick, but I just knew people would come.
An hour passed and my mom and her boyfriend showed up. My mom does not like grass, but she’s super supportive and came to the park anyway. She brought the food I forgot and a blanket for me. Mom’s boyfriend brought his camera to help me take pictures. I was feeling a little better.
My grandparents show up not long after. I was feeling decent. My anxiety was getting better.
It looked like people were coming to the park. I didn’t know if there were there for the event or not, but my family and I tried to bring some people in. No one could come over to our area at the moment.
Time kept passing, along with my hope. The more time that passed, the worse I felt. No one, and I mean no one, was there. My family worked their butts off trying to keep my spirits up, but nothing was helping.
Then it dawned on me, an hour before the event was over, that no one was coming. No one showed up. Not even my friends. It hurt, A LOT. I started to put things away, trying my hardest to hold back the hurricane of tears behind my eyes. No one was coming.
My grandma came over to me. She had this sorry look in her eyes. The dam holding back the tears? It broke. I couldn’t stop crying. I couldn’t catch my breath. Why did no one come? The raw hurt and embarrassment was pouring from my eyes. I was embarrassed. After all of that planning. After all of the wrenches were thrown my way. No. One. Came.
My husband spent the rest of the day working double time to cheer me up. I loved his efforts. They helped patch some of the hurt. But the next day, I was angry.
Everyone processes things differently. My sadness just happened to morph into anger and frustration. Mainly at myself. Questioning my worth not only to myself, but to other people. Was I really that big of a failure? I felt like Spongebob, “Am I the biggest loser on the beach?” It was like a slap in the face.
I’ll admit that I moped around for a could days following the event. I never wanted to plan another thing again. However, that wasn’t the point. People needed community events. They needed community building. Our country so desperately needs it. Despite the personal hurt and embarrassment I felt, I couldn’t let that get me down.
Happy to say, I am already in the process of planning the next community event. As my husband said, “you actually thought of something to make the world a little better and you followed through.” Sometimes things are going to fail. You’re going to feel embarrassed when you put yourself out there, but you have to keep going. You must keep trying.