But I'm not here today to advertise the conference. I'm here today to talk about why I haven't been posting much this month...or really, this year. While we have a part time, paid Executive Director, and while we have a FANTASTIC volunteer Board of Directors (many of whom are my friends on Facebook and may thus see this post, so let me say it again: These guys are fantastic! Phenomenal! The best ever!), a lot of the work falls on the president. And in the end, whether it should or not, the success of the conference will be the main determinant in the judgment of the success of the president. So the pressure is on, and I've been working like crazy. Since July I've probably averaged 5 or 6 hours a week volunteering for KySTE. In mid-January that number jumped to probably 20 hours a week, and for the last half of February it's probably been 30-40 hours a week.
I'm not asking for pity from anyone. When I accepted the nomination for vice-president this time two years ago (In our organization, the vice-president serves for a year and then succeeds the president), I knew what would be expected of me, and if I am honest, I've probably put in a little LESS time than I was anticipating I would. Nevertheless, I'm tired, and I certainly haven't had time to write a blog.
Here's something that worries me, though. I've been going non-stop since my father died right after Thanksgiving. I've been telling myself to "just keep it together." Just keep it together until after the funeral. Then just keep it together until the holidays are over. And once the holidays were over, I immediately jumped to "Just keep it together until this conference is over." Not to mention the fact that in the middle of January my only employee resigned to take a higher paying job, leaving me for a period of time organizing a major conference AND the only support for over 1,000 desktop computers, 15 servers, and boo coos of projectors, interactive white boards, printers, and so on. In fact, as I told MY vice-president, if we hadn't been so close to the conference at the time, I would have immediately resigned.
Again, not a pity party here. What I'm getting at is this: I've barely breathed since my father died. I had a week to mourn him, but then I jumped right back into life, and especially into this conference. In fact, though I know in the grand scheme of things it doesn't really matter, the conference was on my mind the day my father died. In the hospital, while my mother and niece and all of my brothers and sisters were surrounding me crying, I remember thinking, "Crap! And I have this conference to put on, too!"
So this Wednesday afternoon at the Closing Session, when I get up in front of whatever is left of the 1,400 or so attendees who didn't skip out early, and as we draw names and I hand out door prizes, and as I thank the Board of Directors and other volunteers who put their time in to make this conference a success, I know I'll get emotional. Both of those bring out the emotional side in me. I LOVE giving stuff away to people (They get so excited over something that isn't that big of a deal!), and I'll be filled with sincere gratitude for all that the volunteers have done. And I worry that I might get too emotional. Because once this conference is over, I don't have a reason to hold my breath any more. I will have done it. I'll be finished. I will have run out of things to hold it together for, and I'll be able to exhale.
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