Mean Girls?

I ran into a classmate I hadn’t seen in maybe 15 years at the pet store where I was stocking up on cat food prior to an impending snow/ice storm. The last thing you want to do is run out of food and be snowed in with your cats. They love you, but if push comes to shove, they’ll eat you. Don’t let their cute little faces fool you.

That’s hunger in her eyes.

So, anyway, I’ve been planning our 20th Class Reunion for this year and trying to track down current addresses for class members. When I saw her, I was super excited because I didn’t know how to reach her easily since she wasn’t on social media (good for her, BTW).

When I asked her if she had any interest in coming to the reunion, she immediately said, “NO. I don’t do anything with that school. NO…no.”

I laughed a little and with my hands up defensively said, “Ok! Understood.”

I went to turn my cart around and she said, “Nobody liked me then so I don’t have any desire to hang out with them now.”

To which I replied, “Oh, I get it. Definitely. Nobody liked me either. You too, for that matter.” All of this was said with a grin and no attack in my voice. But it was true.

“Oh! That’s not true! I just didn’t really talk to anybody,” she said, laughing.

When we checked out, she teased me for holding up the line fumbling for my debit card and I told her to let me know if she changed her mind about the reunion. That was it.

But as I drove home, I thought about our high school experience and how they had apparently been similar. What was very odd to me was that she wasn’t nice to me in school. While she might not have talked to me much, the only things I ever heard come out of her mouth were snide, snarky and intimidating. I always saw her as one of the many “mean girls” who made my day-to-day struggle through school so nerve racking. It turns out that she might have felt just as I had and her defense was to come off bitchy and mean, while mine was to cower and stay silent. It made me wonder if all the people who were nasty to me in school, and seemingly nasty to this pet-store-shopping classmate, were only that way because they had someone above them making them feel just as terrible. I’d say the answer is probably yes.

 

Does it make any of it right? No, absolutely not. Is it indicative of the age group we’re talking about? Yeah, unfortunately. But that doesn’t have to be the case either. There were plenty of good people in our class, and plenty that didn’t feel like they had to lash out to keep from getting shoved to the bottom, some of which I chose to ask for help in planning this reunion.

As to why I was able to put aside my memories of torment and my long-lost classmate was not, I feel like that is a personal choice. It takes effort and an unpacking of some yucky baggage. I totally get why she feels the way she does, and why she might have opted to NOT forgive the way she was treated by our peers. I choose to believe that everyone should be given the opportunity to prove that they’ve grown up. As for adults who still behave like they’re in high school, ain’t nobody got time for that.

~L~

The Princess Says, “Let Go!”

image

Tonight I sat on my porch as storms rolled in and somehow I felt youthful. Maybe it was because I sat barefoot on my porch swing or more so that I was able to sit alone and undisturbed. The absence of little ones vying for my attention or a to-do list felt freeing, if just for a few minutes. It made me miss the days when I would drive to my favorite nature preserve and write in my journal. I was alone and free to use my time for more creative tasks. I would walk to a nice spot, sit with my journal and spend an hour spilling out my thoughts on paper. I miss everything about that sentence. I can’t walk without pain or write very long without discomfort. It’s rather sad for me to think about how much has changed in such a short period of time. It seems like a lifetime between now and then, but in reality it has only been a few short years. I wonder, why did my body decide to start attacking itself? I keep hoping it will stop and this pain can also become part of my past.

Tonight I told my husband that I might have been okay with my diagnoses if they would have come several years down the road and not when I have small children. I have a doctor’s appointment tomorrow and I’m not thinking about what I will be asking the doctor. Instead, I am thinking about how hard it will be to lift my infant daughter in to and out of her car seat several times, shuffling all four kids between a sitter and home, walking a distance to my doctor’s office, and I wonder after all is done, will I have the strength to make it through the rest of the day. I don’t have the option of calling in sick as a mom, I have to keep going, even when my body doesn’t want to go. My husband recently asked me, “If you knew you would have all this pain before we had kids, would you have had four?”

I replied, “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Isn’t it funny how difficulty often makes us think of hypothetical situations? “If I only knew…..” or “Hindsight is 20/20.” Sure it is but does it matter? Does it help for me to play out future events and allow myself to stress about events that haven’t even occurred? The only thing that can change is now and if I can’t change the past or circumstances that will happen in my future, what am I doing to myself? I must be assembling my own nightmare.

While writing this piece, my daughter called out from her bed, “Mommy! Mommy!” It was difficult to get out of bed and down the hall to her. The RA hurts my joints and the Fibromyalgia hurts the rest. I hobbled down the hall, my head fresh with thoughts of my days sitting in the park and the free feeling I experienced earlier today. She was sitting up in bed and waiting for me. Getting out of my bed was what she anticipated and she expects mommy to come when she calls so I can’t disappoint her just because my body hurts. I sat down on her bed and asked her if she had a bad dream which indeed she had. I kissed her head and started a new dream for her to have, one with a pretty pink princess that dashes away on a pony with a pink mane because pink is my daughter’s favorite color as well as mine. This princess was free of whatever may have caused the bad dream and ready for my daughter to lay down her head and take her on her next big adventure. I was all she needed to forget her nightmare. I underestimated what I can do as a mom and as she closed her eyes, I realized that I didn’t want to be the woman I once was. I too have set off on another adventure and I must redefine my next dream.

I am a mom, a wife, and I am still a writer. I am not famous but I have the privilege of being an author and character in the lives of my children. How lucky am I. Dwelling on the past and worrying about tomorrow robs me of being fully present to write my own future. Yes, it may physically hurt, but it will be beautiful.

~d~