I wanna be a real girl
Friday night marked the first time in a LONG time I went on a Girl’s Night. Somewhere between getting pregnant, turning thirty and being a mom, the idea of going ‘out’ became a frightening, juvenile thing to do. It was better, it seemed, to stay home and play sedate games or watch DVR’d items on the television with my husband. Even as Val and I were planning to go out, the concept of deciding what to do was a bit overwhelming. Mock me, sure, but I didn’t want to go to a bar. I am too un-hip to go to a club. And, frankly, we are too broke for anything else.
We decided to see Bride Wars. That’s right; we took the whole “Girl’s Night” thing to THAT level. We spiked some beverages and sat right up front. It was, in its own sad little way, hysterical. I think if I had done it with anyone other than Val it would have sucked. She gets my weird system of socialization and found the humor in two chicks above the age of consent sneaking booze in to a movie on a Friday night filled with teenagers.
Afterward we went back to my house, ran Adam out of the living room and watched Rock of Love Bus. I had recorded it and knew that Val would appreciate the train wreck. It is like watching one of those After School Specials. Rock stars and booze are a breeding ground for silicone deformities and STD’s. And now you know…..
Climbing in to bed on Friday night, slightly tipsy but mostly tired, I could see letting myself socialize again. Eventually I will be able to get around people that will ask questions and I won’t freak out or cry. I went to bed seeing that as a possibility and it was a relief. I want to be able to be normal again. You know, whatever that means.
Saturday morning meant an early breakfast with my mother-in-law. Adam and I had a good time. Reba seemed like it made her feel good, too. She is one of the few people that get my whole approach to grief and honesty and how I think they should go together. I make inappropriate jokes and I am really straight-forward with how I feel on things that concern my daughter. I am just lucky that Reba doesn’t cry or think that I am ‘wrong.’ I know how lucky I am that my in-laws get me. It is a rare thing. Hell, it is strange just because my blood family so rarely understands me. At least I found a family, right? Positive thinking, my friends, that is the ticket.
As for the healing, it is getting easier. Having Mazzy here has helped tremendously. Adam slept better than he has in nearly a month. We have laughed. We dealt with a potentially scary situation without going at each other’s throats. Adam has even been able to talk about Mazzy without crying. That’s progress, baby.
I go back to the coffee mines this week. I am nervous, but eager to redevelop some normalcy and stability. Eventually I would like to take a position somewhere else, but I think that putting me out there for rejection isn’t the way to go, just yet. Once I know that I can work every day without having a breakdown I will feel more secure about being more professional. I would hate to start a new job just to weep in front of people that wouldn’t have a clue about my daughter. Clean slate and all of that.
We decided to see Bride Wars. That’s right; we took the whole “Girl’s Night” thing to THAT level. We spiked some beverages and sat right up front. It was, in its own sad little way, hysterical. I think if I had done it with anyone other than Val it would have sucked. She gets my weird system of socialization and found the humor in two chicks above the age of consent sneaking booze in to a movie on a Friday night filled with teenagers.
Afterward we went back to my house, ran Adam out of the living room and watched Rock of Love Bus. I had recorded it and knew that Val would appreciate the train wreck. It is like watching one of those After School Specials. Rock stars and booze are a breeding ground for silicone deformities and STD’s. And now you know…..
Climbing in to bed on Friday night, slightly tipsy but mostly tired, I could see letting myself socialize again. Eventually I will be able to get around people that will ask questions and I won’t freak out or cry. I went to bed seeing that as a possibility and it was a relief. I want to be able to be normal again. You know, whatever that means.
Saturday morning meant an early breakfast with my mother-in-law. Adam and I had a good time. Reba seemed like it made her feel good, too. She is one of the few people that get my whole approach to grief and honesty and how I think they should go together. I make inappropriate jokes and I am really straight-forward with how I feel on things that concern my daughter. I am just lucky that Reba doesn’t cry or think that I am ‘wrong.’ I know how lucky I am that my in-laws get me. It is a rare thing. Hell, it is strange just because my blood family so rarely understands me. At least I found a family, right? Positive thinking, my friends, that is the ticket.
As for the healing, it is getting easier. Having Mazzy here has helped tremendously. Adam slept better than he has in nearly a month. We have laughed. We dealt with a potentially scary situation without going at each other’s throats. Adam has even been able to talk about Mazzy without crying. That’s progress, baby.
I go back to the coffee mines this week. I am nervous, but eager to redevelop some normalcy and stability. Eventually I would like to take a position somewhere else, but I think that putting me out there for rejection isn’t the way to go, just yet. Once I know that I can work every day without having a breakdown I will feel more secure about being more professional. I would hate to start a new job just to weep in front of people that wouldn’t have a clue about my daughter. Clean slate and all of that.
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