friends

On Being a Teen Mom...at 30.

When you're a teen mom at thirty, you feel like a teen mom again: completely out of place. Your friends are now catching up and having babies of their own but they're not really "catching up", are they? They're doing it at the right time. You were the one who clearly got it wrong.

Your friends talk about formula and breast feeding and what stroller to buy while you research "How to Get a 12 Year Old Through Puberty" on your own. 

You realize this will always be the case. You will always be the odd mom out. Hell, you always have been. You will always be at the wrong stage of your own goddamn life. 

Your pregnant friends will ask you if it's weird to have a different last name than your child's. They ask because they are beautiful, bad ass feminists that never took their husband's last name. Clearly, not the reason why my child and I do not have the same last name. His was never offered to me with a promise and a ring. 

I tell them not to worry about it. They are married. They belong to a family unit. Their different last name is a minor detail that doesn't take from the legitimacy of their family. Alright, so I just say, "No, it's not weird".

When you're a teen mom at thirty, you're reminded that you did it wrong, out of order, too quickly. Your friends are engaged married, expecting, mothers of toddlers and you're still trying to survive, trying to fit in, knowing you never will. 

Am I grateful to not be changing diapers? Absolutely. I am looking to get married and start all over the "right way"? Hell to the no. I love my child. I realize my blessings but there's just something about being a teen mom at thirty that makes you feel well, like a teen mom again. You watch them do it the right way, unable to stop the thoughts that you clearly did it wrong. 

The Fool

I was the fool. 

I was the fool that said we could still be friends. 

She invites me to the movies. Foolishly I oblige. 

She smiles that smile so sweet. The one strangers can't help but comment on. Compliments that ignite the sparkle in her eye. The blush in her cheek. 

Little does she know, it's that very smile that tightens my chest, that twists the knife.

But I can't blame her.

I was the fool.

I was the fool that said we could still be friends.

We sit close. We have no choice. 

In the darkness I smell the lavender and orange in her hair. I hear the song of her breath. I feel the warmth of her presence. 

Little does she know, it's that very smell of lavender and orange that causes my tears, it's that poetic rise and fall of her breath that rebuilds my wall. It's that exact warm presence that ignites the match that inflames my courage to love again. 

But I can't blame her. 

I was the fool.

I was the fool that said we could still be friends. 

We walk out together, not hand in hand, not side by side. The streets are busy and she's a little ahead. 

We stop at her car and she hugs me.

She's a villainous murderer. Me, her latest victim. How could she intend to do anything but kill me? 

Doesn't she know what a hug does to me? A mere brush of her skin against mine sends me spiraling down into anxious despair, so why the fuck would she hug me?

She knows better. 

I can blame her.

I do blame her.

I was the fool that said we could still be friends but she should fucking know better. She should know that shit ain't possible. She should know better than to smile like that and smell like that and breathe like that and emit that goddamn, fucking glow. 

No.

No.

I can't blame her. God, how I want to blame her but I can't.

It's not her fault. 

I was the fool.

I was the fool that said we could still be friends. 

I was the fool that fell. 

That One Time When I Was Sad as Hell...

Here's an old blog post from a blog I used to write with a friend because I STILL struggle with things to say (that I actually want to get into in terms of non-fiction) sooooo here's a little copy/paste action for ya. Disclaimer: Things are getting better these days. Don't cry for me Argentina. 

I struggle with non-fiction writing which is exactly why I'm a blogger. What? Right. It makes no sense but neither does life so just eat the cake Anna Mae and don't worry about it. Every week I ask friends sooooooo what do you think I should write about? And they say, "It must be Sunday night." Sigh. This is where I proceed to write about how I ask them for topic suggestions and they give me dozens to which I respond from the following pool of phrases:

No.
Hell no.
That's dumb.
I refuse to write about that.
If I read one more article about that I'm gonna finally jump so I'm definitely not gonna write about it. 
Yeah! I'll do that! ...well, no. Give me another suggestion.
And then sometimes they just get the blank stare.

I then planned to proceed by labelling myself a, " high maintenance friend" listing clear signs of such exhausting acquaintances. But the truth is my dear dear readers, I'm gonna be honest with you, both of you, I'm really not that much of a high maintenance friend and that's not what's on my heart anyway.

I've been going through a bit of a rough time. I hate to talk about it because it leaves me so vulnerable but it's hard for me to write about favorite sex positions or my top five worst dates when I'm going throuuuuugh it. I have a terrible poker face and am way too open for my own good. I can't help it yet always regret it. This may be a theme in my life.

Anywho... I guess my question for the day would be what exactly do you do when you have a problem that no one can fix, not even yourself and when people give you advice you simply envision punching them in the jaw. Its the only thing that makes you feel even slightly better.

Now, I got some advice from my two besties today that actually helped me a lot. The first told me..."don't react to temporary things as if they're permanent"  and the second told me to meditate and if I didn't it would be my loss. My besties tend to play good cop/bad cop without knowing it. They don't even know each other. But one will hold my hand while the other slaps my face. I love them. Anyway.

If you don't have awesome besties like me, hell even if you do, sometimes you just struggle with situations that seem impossible. You want help, you want things to change but then when someone tries to help you, it's not that you don't want the help, its just that you almost don't feel physically capable of accepting and applying the help.

When my friend initially told me to meditate my initial (internal) reaction was omg stfu I can't meditate! Its not gonna help. I'm too sad. I'm just gonna sit there and cry! I was defensive, irrational and emotional.

This post might be about depression.

Not to be so elusive, my big struggle in life is being a single mom. I am totes and legitimately not cut out for this job, although I do it well. I can't write about being a single mom because I think it just opens opportunity for generalized social commentary and lots of judgement from lots of different angles and the humanistic aspect is completely lost.

What the hell is this woman talking about?

I don't know but it was hard for me to come up with an arbitrary yet focused topic for the day. I guess I just needed to be honest with myself and give a little shout out to those of us who can feel utterly hopeless at times. Its not forever but when it is here...its a doozy, let me tell ya.

Soooooo. Ever get that feeling of hopelessness?  Like no one can help you, not even yourself? Like advice is nothing more than a dagger to the side? It's not but, does it ever feel that way? Like the person is undermining the severity of your situation with what sounds like canned, shallow cliches even if its not. Am I the best blogger ever??? Known for her focused precision??? Write a random comment or your favorite joke and we'll be besties for life.