I had managed to try and distract myself for hours. Just little things…to “keep my mind occupied”. I am not one of those people who am of the belief that you can distract yourself forever…for I know, that it will come back. And yet I also know that when it does…you cannot run from it – for it will pummel you. I so very much desire to move forward, or even a small step sideways, to be happy – I mean to just breathe in the taste of sweet happiness; to surrender to it. But yet, I know…I know it on the deepest level- at the very core of my being, that I will always be waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me – I will be forever on guard; even as I distract myself with the little things of daily tasks watching the clock as the moments tick by, each hour my heart beating faster and faster, bringing with it the dread of the evening.
My daughter and I were shopping. She was looking for the perfect pink dress to wear to the perfect teenage slumber party. And I was looking for the perfect outfit to to hide my inner fears and anxieties for my own party that seemed in my head might be worse than a teen party. “What about this, mom”, she held up a beautiful sikly cream colored short dress that that did seem perfect and holiday like. Although the party I had agreed to attend was casual, I had no intention of dressing in jeans and a casual oxford shirt. No way, I was going all out. Make-up and boots, satin shiny scarf with gold in it, even new earrings! This dress would be perfect! “I love it!” She found a pink tunic to go with her leggings for her own party and we were on our way.
I dropped her off at her party and made up some additional errands I needed to run before returning home to get ready for my own party. Dread was building as the sun began to set but I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer so I poured more than a glass of wine, wrapped the holiday gifts for the party and headed upstairs to design myself for public.
I had already told my friend who was hosting the party that I would be there, but I was unsure how long I would stay, and she exclaimed, “I’m so happy you’re coming! I’ll take whatever I can get.” Obviously, she still was in the “i’m pretending nothing happened on vacation – and let’s just go back to the way it was before. Not to mention the fact that the woman who screamed at me and put her fist in my face would also be at the party – I was extremely anxious about going, but committed to getting through it – and perhaps falling apart upon my return home. But I knew it was not going to be easy… FOR ME!
I have to say, I did look amazing! In the dress my daughter picked out, my caked on make-up, and layered head-wear and boots. I was super impressed with the job I did putting myself together. Why, if I didn’t know myself better – I would have thought I was not a hot mess! The wine and xanax cocktails helped immensely, I’m sure. And perhaps the fact that I also knew that I was completely alone in this – with literally no one to lean on, count on, or help me through this…well, that might have made it feel worse, but at the same time, I knew it was just me.
I made it a couple of hours before punchy started spewing at the mouth and I didn’t think I could handle being around her any longer, so I decided I had better remove myself from the situation. I went out onto the porch and sat down. My friend followed me, and sat down next to me. After a minute she asked me if I wanted to talk (More than anything, but you won’t hear me anymore, so not wasting my breath). “No,” I replied. So she asked me if I wanted a blanket. “No, please go inside and entertain your guests.” I told her. “Ok, but if you need anything please come find me.” “I don’t need anything.” I said. Other than for her to be honest and respect and defend me as her friend – but she did not.
A few minutes later, my husband came out and I asked him if he was ready to go home. And we left.
My friend still texts me – and I respond to her, respectfully and carefully. But I will not, and cannot act like nothing happened. I will not, and cannot ‘forget and move on’ from that hellish week of vacation It was horrid and she just pretends it didn’t exist – “poof”…and I cannot.
I cannot work through it in therapy because of my fucking trauma-brain and I tried (for the first time in a month) to call the therapist – but of course, she just got angry and said “I’m not talking on the phone – do you want to make an appointment, or not? You have 2 minutes to decide.” Whatever…fuck that…so I hung up. You know what? I just wanted one person to hear me – to speak kindly to me – to fucking acknowledge me! Then I would have maybe been able to get past it and make an appointment. Not now. But apparently, that will only be my xanax and wine. And I have to be ok with that. I was already alone – so this didn’t hurt more. But Its not ok…Im not ok – and its not ok….