Friday, October 11, 2013
My white flag, a pair of granny panties haphazardly attached to a lonely old mic stand, waiving high in the air.
A symbol of defeat, a symbol of sadness.
A symbol of old identity and new identity coming together as one sad, pathetic, almost middle aged lady wondering where the hell her tube tops and the boobs that used to look so fabulous in them went.
I tried. i thought I was better than this. I thought I could run faster than the flames of time that were lapping at my reflection as I pondered my new wrinkles, the new gray hair, my droopy bosom, and the weird ugly blood vessel spots on my face.
I wanted to break the mold. I THOUGHT I COULD REMAIN HOT FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE! CHILDREN BE DAMMED!
But now, I just weep.
Laser treatments, hair color, facial masks, Spanx and Victoria's Secret can no longer mask what I know to be the truth.
I am a 36 year old mother.
And I wear yoga pants.
I'm too tired to go out.
The thought of going to a loud club or bar after 10PM makes me want to hide inside my own uterus.
I want to stay in with my daughter every Friday and Saturday night.
I don't care that my husband wears t-shirts that say " Maris street block party 2002"
And I need wine. Lots and lots of wine.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
My twin sister just wrote this post.
I was devastated last night reading it. I couldn't breath, I couldn't even cry. I felt like someone punched me in my face. I could cry now just thinking about it.
I feel guilty about crying, because no matter how terrible this makes me feel, Jill feels 1000000000 times worse. I shouldn't even have a "sad" button, because nothing I am sad about comes close to her sadness.
I cried on Tuesday because Georgia was constipated and couldn't poop, and was screaming and it sounded like I was torturing her. She was late for school and I was late for work. I wanted my mom to come over and help. This is like the worst thing going on in my life. meanwhile, my twin sister is all alone and thinking about a future too horrible to even make up or imagine, and I am crying because my kid can't shit today. I don't deserve to cry.
I don't know what to feel. I feel so guilty. Even when we are together without the children I can smetimes feel her thinking about Mason and what if she is missing his breakthrough moment? It makes my chest feel so heavy, and my stomach feel so empty, and my heart just breaks and breaks and breaks. Why did this happen to her? Why did this happen to Mason? What the fuck?
We don't just sit around and act depressed, but her post last night really upset me.We do fun things, we go to karaoke bars, we have sister night and watch stupid movies, she calls me when Mason does something cool, I call her when Georgia does something cool. we go to brunch and we laugh a lot. It isn't all doom and gloom. But seriously, what the fuck?
I worry about Georgia too. I think of how shitty middle school girls are and I pray that she is nice and that everyone is nice to her, I pray that she always stays safe. I think about how many times as a young adult I got into a car I should not have gotten into because the driver was drunk, or all of the terrible decisions I've made throughout my life. Sometimes I can't believe I made it out alive. I am terrified. But, for the most part,I live in the bliss of ignorance. Nothing has happened yet. I can think about these things, but also dream big for her, because, well, why the hell not?
Mason already got in the car, so to speak. His car accident already happened. Jill can only go day by day. Mason's future is unknown. She can only mentally handle small periods of time, like, "Maybe one day he will be potty trained".
Life sucks. I hate when people say "special needs children go to special people" because WHAT THE FUCK DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?
My sister deserves to experience all of the joys a mother and son should experience during this phase of life and not have to fucking worry about if he will talk or if hes will able to us a bathroom, of if he will be able to live on his own. Some stupid phrase is not going to make anyone feel better, or special, or like they were hand picked by god to take on a fucking challenge.
If there is God, I pretty much hate him right now for doing this to my sister and nephew.