A crappy grey day in February, 8 years ago
Sitting at my dining room table, staring at my quiet phone.
The floor and trim, ebony. Walls, an impersonal white. One side, an equally ebony oversized Goodwill china cabinet, filled with my everyday dishes, glasses. My small kitchen sucks. The other wall, covered in preschool artwork. The table itself, awash with crayons, paper, glue. They went to Dad’s house in the middle of craft time. I’ll pick that up later, I said two days ago. An ass-cold day, throwing sleet on the window. The useless overhead light casting a smoke-stained glow.
Nobody likes you.
My nose tingled, hurt; tears pushed forward from the sides of my eyes.
I hear the front door open, reach down, and pull my laptop out of my bag. She’ll never know.
Me: Hi, sweetheart. How was work?
Stacey divested her raincoat and sauntered over to me in her FedEx Express uniform. A long sleeve purple and navy polo with Navy cargo pants which always look crisp, professional. She makes being a delivery driver even look good. Her content eyes meet mine. A light blue made brilliant by the faintest brown eyeliner and her quiet freckles.
Stacey: If it wasn’t for this damned rain-snow crap, I could have had my fastest time!
Me (getting up from the table): That’s awesome! Hey, I was thinking, you know what?
Stacey (pulling me close): What, baby?
Me: I love you.
How could I love this woman and feel so horrible?
Stacey: I love you, too.
Stacey surprises me and leans backward, tilting her head to the side, eyeing me suspiciously.
Stacey (gently): Were you crying?
Me (evasively): No…
Stacey: You sure?
Me: Fine. I was *almost* crying.
Stacey: Wanna talk?
Dining Room table, again
Me: So… I haven’t heard from any of my friends in a while. I know I’ve been meaning to invite them over this past year. But, I feel bad because, well, it’s not as nice as mine was with Mark. Like, there’s that wall in the basement that weeps when it rains. Anyway, I was thinking that my friends are probably too busy for me. Or don’t need me in their lives anymore. But, it’s not hard to pick up the phone or text, right?
Me (taking a breath): So, because it always has to be me, then I have concluded that I’m the one dragging dead friendships along. Long story short,
Stacey (gently, and winking at our running Clue joke): too late?
Me: I feel like I have no friends.
I start crying. Stacey reaches over to put her arm around me to pull me close.
Me (muffled in the crook of her neck): And I feel very alone.
My suffering pours over me, out of me, like a raging river. My chest heaves, my throat catching my breath. Divorce is too hard. I have lost all my friends because of it.
The first battle
Stacey: You know, sweetheart, you are a beautiful person. I am lucky to know you. You are dealing with a lot of shit. Co-parenting with Mark is like a full-time job,
Yea, Mark wouldn’t even let me take Barbara to the doctor when she had a fever. And he’s still fucking mad, even though he’s getting remarried.
My sobbing gets quieter.
Stacey: …and then you have an actual full-time job which has its own assholes,
Yea, my boss is not talking to me. And I am super in-the-closet there, which is exhausting.
Stacey: …and then you have kids, like Barbara who yells and kicks after coming back from Mark’s house,
They are always so tired and…smelly.
Stacey (firmly, lovingly): But I love you, your parents and kids love you, and your friends love you.
Placing her hand on my heart.
Stacey: And you need time to see how amazing you are and love yourself, too.
God, thank you for putting Stacey in my life.
Me (wincing): So, I don’t suck?
Stacey: So many people love you, sweetheart. They just have their own shit, too.
Me: I really miss my friends.
Stacey: They miss you, too.
I look out the window, the sleet has stopped. The sun, fighting its way through the heavily-curtained sky.
POEM: Palate
You pick the colors you paint. Our lives, a rainbow of heart. Those browns, muddy blues, slate greys, We want, forever, to stay. The gift of your blessed life is: you pick the colors you paint.
Mom-munity Builder
Yes, I was depressed. I’ve walked years – diagnosed and not – clothed in grey, numb, sometimes hopeless, days.
The only thing that has worked for me, is the acceptance that life is the full rainbow. And it will change. With large doses of patience, humility, and grace, I embrace the full palate. It’s hard, but the cliffs aren’t as steep now, and I take more time to enjoy each and every view.
PROMPT: The next time you catch yourself saying something to yourself that’s not kind….. What can you say to yourself, instead, that sounds like something a patient, forgiving, and loving friend would say?
