Hey ladies, I’ve been thinking of you and trying to keep up with your blogs, but things have been bananas recently. I’m drained. Do you mind if I do bullet points? Thanks, I need a break.
1. I was flipping out before the bridal shower, trying to make everything all “Martha Stewart” perfect throughout the apartment, on top of planning the most charming bridal shower I could muster. I dun good. The champagne punch (with fresh mint leaves, served in mason jars) was delicious. The tapas platter (with gluten-free crackers and several types of olives and cheese) was attractive. The gourmet pizzas (with homemade crust–2 regular, 1 gluten-free) turned out beautifully (well, save for the cheese running over in the oven from the margherita pizza, thus causing smoke and setting off the smoke alarms). The gluten-free cupcakes with homemade chocolate frosting were adorable and scrumptious. The ladies complimented my house quite a bit, saying it “looks like a hotel” (I’ll take that as a compliment) and it’s “really beautiful”. Everybody loved the shower décor. And the games were fun. I will say, that Myrtle was appreciative and helpful (she helped me get the finishing touches done before everyone arrived). But of course, she did say some asinine stuff, for example, she was talking about her proposal–her fiancé proposed on a rooftop of a building downtown, with a large bunch of white roses, but that wasn’t what she’d hoped for–but she said “At least he didn’t propose to me in a restaurant, I would’ve kicked him in the nuts! I didn’t want to be one of those people!” Well, my friends, I am one of “those people” that was proposed to in a restaurant, and honestly, Mr. MLACS went to a lot of trouble to surprise me and make it special, so who cares where it was?! I would’ve been pleased if he’d done it in a port-o-potty. So she’s an ass for saying that, especially since I’ve called her on that before when she had told me her engagement story and taken an attitude about restaurants–I mean, when I put my foot in my mouth, I usually feel ashamed and don’t repeat the mistake, but Myrtle is nothing if not a ‘repeat offender’. I could’ve embarrassed her by saying something in front of everybody at the shower, but I didn’t–I waited until I was half-assed drunk later on that night when somebody else called her on her snotty attitude. I’ll get to the part about me being drunk, but first, here’s the pics I took of the bridal shower (as promised). They don’t do it justice, but you get the idea (hopefully).
2. After everyone from the bridal shower left, I sat down for a few minutes and then got up to go to the baby shower (that I talked about before–she’s a semi-infertile, having ttc’d for 18 months with no intervention, but then she got pregnant from “just relaxing” on vacation in Mexico, so…that’s annoying). I got to the bar (yes, the rooftop of a local bar–it was a beautiful day) and saw a bunch of my friends that I used to par-tay with back in the day–we were a real bunch of derelict mf*ers (ravers, skateboarders, hippies, potheads, etc.) but most of us have gone on to have real jobs, spouses, and families…but when we get together… So my friend Kat is the loudest one of the bunch, and had left her man and her kids at home, so I buddied up with her…and started drinkin’. I was also trying to shake off the stress of the bridal shower–I was wound tighter than a 10 year clock. By the end of the shower I had 3 pints of cider beer and probly 2 cigarettes. And then, I had to make a decision: stay downtown for a rare night with my (extremely fun) old buddies, or go to dinner with the bridal shower…I chose to ‘do the right thing’ and leave my buddies to go to the dinner. I live in a college town full of hot girls, and I’d been admiring their (lack of) clothing (like, I felt like I should put money in their G-strings for showing that much skin)…but I looked faaabulous in a black pencil skirt, white tank top, black short leather jacket, and leopard print loafers, and a sassy ponytail with great make-up…and as I sauntered away from the bar, one of those cute little college girls “Oh you GO mama, I love that look, WORK IT!” And honey, I sure did.
3. I went to dinner with the bridal shower (said nothing of the baby shower because Myrtle would be miffed that she wasn’t invited) and first thing I did was grab a glass of wine. And when they asked what I wanted for dinner, I said “more wine” (but I did eat a bun-less philly sandwich). And I ended up having 3 glasses of wine (restaurant pours, which are less than half the size I pour for myself at home). And then we decided we would go downtown to the bars, and my apartment was just across the street, so I did the responsible thing and took my car home, and caught a ride with the rest of them. I was feelin’ pretty goooood.
4. We went to a new bar, a “public house” (oh-so-hipster-cool) and I had another cider beer. And another cigarette. I ran into Kat there.
5. We went to our favorite dive bar, where I had another cider beer.
6. We went to a hipster music joint that was hosting a hipster band, and I paid $12 to get in the door, and fought my way through a sea of hipster beards to get to the damn bar, where I ordered yet another cider beer. And then another. And another. And I think I smoked a cigarette in there somewhere, and tried to fix up one of the bridesmaids with a nice guy I know (Myrtle stuck her nose in it and made it awkward–typical). And there was a shot of jack (ick). And definitely another cider beer…
7. And after the music show ended, we hobbled back to the dive bar, where I realized I was drunk and wanted to go home, so I called a cab.
8. I was wobbly, but I made it in the house, changed into my pj’s, fed the cat, took my medicine, and put a glass of water by my bed–thinking, naively, that I would feel crappy the next day but I wasn’t that drunk…
Oh but ladies, I woke up circa 7:45am Sunday morning and I felt like death. My head was pounding and my stomach ached, and so many other feelings that I can’t put into words except to say “death”. I drank some water…and thought about it…and went and “prayed to the porcelain gods” (I had to force myself but it didn’t take much). And I still didn’t feel better. And I wished like hell that Mr. MLACS was there with me, as he is good-natured about taking care of me when I par-tay with the ladies occasionally (he’s usually the sober driver and he’s happy to pay for drinks for his own entertainment as well as ours). But I was utterly alone. And long story short, I’m glad I have 2 toilets, because I had my head in one and my ass on the other all morning long. Torture. Like “somebody shoot me and put me out of my misery”. But finally, by 1:30pm I had sufficiently purged the alcohol from my body and left my liver to clean up the rest of the mess. I felt like such an idiot. A miserable idiot. Finally by 3pm I coaxed myself out of bed to go and get some 7up to calm my stomach (I mean, cuz I didn’t feel like calling anybody to bring me anything, except my sister, who–as usual–ignores my calls and texts unless she wants something from me).
I then went to see my dad and grandma, since I hadn’t seen him in weeks owing to the fact that he’s been thick-as-thieves with his stupid girlfriend and I refuse to be around the two of them anymore (so many reasons). He, however, thinks I’m punishing him and he started a BIGASS fight while I was at the house, and I don’t know if I will ever forgive him. He is an ass and I don’t know why I even gave him the opportunity to hurt me like this (again). Why did I move home?! Anyways, this did not help my hangover depression-funk. It drained whatever strength I had left. And Mr. MLACS was the only person I wanted, and he is so far away.
Monday was insane, as I had to wake up early and page Dr. Angel to see about getting what we needed done that day. And I had to take Grandma to her radiation appointment–which was depressing, because this one terminal patient that had the same kind of Lobular breast cancer my Mom had sat there and told me her tragic story and I had to use emotional energy I didn’t have to try to have a bright conversation with her and speak about my Mom’s treatment…it hurts to remember and I had to pretend like it didn’t, because she has a daughter my age and I wanted to show her how well I’ve dealt with my mother’s passing so she might not feel so bad about her own daughter’s impending grief. I don’t regret that conversation, because God put her in my path, but it was draining. Then I cleaned the house, did laundry, went to spinning class, went to see doc Angel, and came home to make dinner for myself, by myself. At least it was a sunny day outside, which lifted my spirits. And I was glad to be busy. But I didn’t have the energy to blog.
Today was a very tough day and I’m gonna tell y’all about it, but in a different post. I don’t want to come across as seeking pity of having self-pity, but here’s what: I’ve been investing myself in other people A LOT lately, and I’m feeling emotionally drained and not cared for by my friends and family the way I am caring for them. I’m “being there” for a lot of people, and I don’t want to chase people around to “be there” for me. My husband is gone. And I’m feeling stressed and alone. I’m missing my Mom, so, so much right now. I feel physically as strong as I’ve felt in a long time, but emotionally drained and weak. I could use some TLC. And that’s the truth.
But y’all know I’m tough. I am. And grateful for the things that I have (including my current UC remission). And I’m hopeful for the future. But getting my Grandma through treatment, getting myself through infertility and loss (will it EVER end?!), missing my husband when he’s gone, missing my dear departed mother, and being disappointed by my (broken) family…it’s a lot right now and it’s getting to me. To be continued…