This is the holiday weekend post that nobody will probably read. It’s filled with self-doubt and loathing.
I invited myself to a Crimson and Cream season opener party with my sister. I thought it was at a bar. It wasn’t. It was in some dude’s garage. I instantly developed a severe case of social anxiety disorder and almost didn’t go. I’m glad that I did, if for nothing else than the vast array of dips and chips. Hot dip that tastes like a jalapeno popper? Don’t mind if I do. Same goes for you, crab rangoon dip.
My littles are slumbering with relatives who, I fear, will never invite them back. Ella needed a nap this afternoon but naps for her often bode poorly for bedtime. I am enjoying my quiet night and almost don’t want to sleep because when I wake up, it will all be over. I love my kids but…one night is never enough. I need one to chill and one to get stuff done. Like unpacking my sewing room. Or baking bread. Or…anything else really. Story of my life.
Why is it that I spend a good portion of my time thinking of the next moment when I don’t have to be a mom? Because it really isn’t that bad. My girls are really pretty good. I’m lucky there. And we always find things to entertain ourselves. I guess I’m just craving. Something.
That’s a really good way to think of it: a craving. They hang on me all day and I crave to not be touched. But really, I want to be touched by someone who doesn’t want anything from me. They make messes and I crave order. And to not have to be the one to create order every. time. They ask for dinner and I crave a meal that doesn’t include anything breaded, fried or between two pieces of soft bread. Or coated in an unnatural cheese powder. I also crave the times when I don’t have to prepare it. Or endure the constant motion and ramblings of small children. They fight, screech, turn on the television and leave the room, clack random things together and talk to inanimate objects. I crave silence.
But when it is silent, I can hear what’s in my head. Not crazy voices but memories banging around. I can feel my jaw ache because it is always tight; waiting for the cheap shots that seem to pepper my life. When it is really quiet, I am forced to live my life all over again. And I’m not so sure I want to do it. Especially now that I know how to do it different.
And this anxiety in social situations? Comes from being the only thirty-something in the room without a spouse, alive or not. I really dislike being single. I really don’t like being a single parent (double parent?). I feel like I am the intrusion into other people’s lives because I don’t have my own. A soul to be pitied. Nobody wants that.
What I am really craving is to be someone’s everything again.
I miss Stephen, still, everyday. And I still am in disbelief that this is how the story ends.