My second visit to the piercer conference in Vegas is now over and down in the books. I’m back at home and have spent a day reflecting on my experience. This past week began as a lonely one, arriving alone a couple days ahead of classes, triggering the recluse in me, and making it even more difficult to approach people I wanted to meet throughout the week. Ahead of conference, I was dealing with some health related issues, and nearly decided against coming to avoid the possibility of serious complications in another country. But I knew it would feed a part of me that has been a work in progress so I proceeded with caution, but not without more anxiety than my first year. Throughout the week, I said multiple times that I probably won’t return next year (or at least not alone again), but as I flew back home—watching the human-made groupings of illumination pass by—the conversations I had and the new connections I made played through my head and I allowed myself to shed a few tears under the cover of my red eye flight and a vacant seat beside me. I arrived home to an empty apartment, sleep deprived and intentionally fasting, and following the effect of a few edibles, I experienced an emotional breakdown that felt very reassuring and positive. My whole adult life has been spent at the edge of the industry, peering in, watching others find their way. Before that, I was just a fangirl (own it) who got noticed and then disappeared. It’s not like I haven’t managed to make the right connections for myself, through luck or whatever else. I wouldn’t have gone to two conferences in a row if it weren’t for those who have gone out of their way to make me feel welcome, or even just by making me more comfortable by saying hello or smiling. Not being in the industry makes it a lot harder to keep going to conference. It’s not easy to relate to everyone fully, and I think some people do judge me on that when it comes up through introductions. Aspergers and anxiety have always limited me, and manipulation tactics have created a sense of doubt throughout my life. Trying to find my way has been troublesome without a close supportive circle, and that’s always been missing. Yet I find myself willing to step way out of my comfort zone to travel to Vegas on my own (and to other modification related meets in the past) regardless of how troubled and different I may be, time and time again. I can’t help but take that as some sort of sign.
This year wasn’t as inspiring as last year, but it was a lot more reassuring. It was also a tough one leading up to the event, and there were many personal expectations this time around. When I realized that I had changed just enough not to be recognized last year, it made me hesitant about my decision to travel again when in tandem with my lack of industry affiliation. Yeah sure, I sought out an apprenticeship from an APP member and was given a shot, but I still never feel quite worthy even now, regardless of that short-lived opportunity and the fact that I was sort of an idol figure for many in a past life. Having “eatenplacenta” shout at me from a distance by others this year brought back those fuzzy feelings from a more confident minute. It was great to see some old faces again and the deep and thought-provoking conversations I had in general were overall amazing. I didn’t get out as much as I hoped to and I didn’t meet as many people as I wanted, but I know that I work differently than others, and I’m beginning to accept that and be okay with my interactions not looking like everyone else’s around me. Letting things flow naturally without having to force them and trusting my gut is how I roll and has generally done well for me. But I do need to learn a few things about social interaction and making changes in my life, and I feel like this year helped me realize a few important things while turning me more in the right direction and toward the right people who should be a part of it all.
Others told me “everyone says that” when I mentioned I wasn’t planning on coming next year, and it wasn’t until I got back into my own apartment and started unpacking my luggage that I became uncertain of my own statement and realized that my experience was actually a really great one, even if I spent the first couple days worrying a little too much about myself and feeling like I made a mistake going again. I let that affect my mood throughout the week. Now it seems tougher to make the decision not to go, but even if I do a little more sightseeing in nature for my summer holiday next year (which is what I’ve always wanted to do), I’ll be back at conference again. Being an anxious, fearful, social disaster has challenged and prevented growth for many aspects of who I am but I can’t seem to let it put this fire out, even if it’s just a slow controlled burn.
The worst part about returning home is realizing that I’m one of very few who doesn’t go back to a work environment they love, or a job they are passionate about, and I don’t get to use and/or stare at the most beautiful jewellery on the planet all day long and get paid to do so. Post-Vegas depression is most definitely a thing, and I hope that all the piercers and industry folk are grateful for what they have and hope you don’t forget how fulfilling it is to be able to make a living off of a passion, even if it’s tough. This association and industry is growing and it’s popularity is so well-deserved. It’s energizing to be able to attend even though I’m on the outside—permitted to step in for just a moment and be a sponge. At this point, I feel like the concept of not being a piercer and going in another industry related direction is becoming pretty clear, and while I still am not quite sure on where the road is taking me, I’ll eventually be treated with my own share of it.
eatenplacenta.com 