Wednesday, August 10, 2011


It's difficult for me to let things go. I'm working on it, and I definitely feel my happy pills help me focus on the positive. Sometimes are harder than others and people are able to hurt you beyond medicinal intervention. And in those time, I guess, you just have to let it hurt. But whatever the reason, this last week has been God grabbing me by the face and forcing me to know that for every bit of hate, there are equal parts love.

I debated about whether or not to talk about this (if it never gets posted, I guess that answers that), but I figured that since I do talk about everything, this should only be slightly different. And, yes, there is probably some narcissism sprinkled in there somewhere that makes me think that what I might have to say might make someone else feel better.

Yesterday morning I was subjected to a barrage of e-mails pleading I use an outpatient rehab program because I smoked (use your imagination), on average, twice a day while in Santa Fe (oh, naughty nursery rhyme!). You know, during a bachelorette party. I didn't feel it then, so it's foolish of me to hold strong to my position that I was on vacation with my friends, but that is literally the setting. Based on the short amount of time we spent together (and a plethora of behind-my-back gossiping), they, apparently constructed the rest of my life and the possible avenues in which it might take with and without intervention. I guess I missed the memo and my chance to lecture them on their recreational Vicodin (or Percocet) use and drinking like a fish.

She used my smoking as reason for my not attending the post-bachelorette wedding, even though I've maintained Jacob and I were too sick to attend, and never-mind we weren't welcome in the first place.

I don't believe either of my Denver friends for a second for the reasons they listed as to not to be my friend (my weight issue, depression, anxiety, and, now, smoking), one even declaring she didn't want any further contact with me until I was "sober," before littering my inbox with her ideas of hope for a brighter future for me and my child, conveniently ignoring the fact that what I smoked, I didn't do alone, wasn't even mine, and was brought as a courtesy by one of the very girls I was now getting emotionally abused by. I wouldn't be bothered so much if she didn't sink to the level below pond scum and insinuate that I'm not a good mother, or that I don't take as good of care as my child as I should without ever actually meeting my child, seeing where we live, or being at all apart of the life we lead. When I told this to my friend, Mer, she asked, "Has she ever even seen you, Jacob, and Zoey together?" I said, "No."

Every woman knows that is the quickest way to emotionally scar someone, to claim they aren't a good mother, although I should have been a smarter mother and not let the comments of someone who has never been a mother affect me. Knowing I suffer from depression, anxiety, and weight issues, she lacks the small amount of taste I foolishly credited her with. So I suppose me and my child's bright future has already started now that she won't be apart of it; I told her regardless if I continue to smoke or not, she won't be hearing from me ever again.

It also hurt that people who claimed to love and care for me, without judgment, were suddenly treating me like they watched me shoot heroin, abuse and neglect my child, and/or give a happy for some crack. Considering everything I've done in my life up until this point - hello, 20's people!! - this is what I'm being so harshly de-friended for? And instead of approaching me as you might imagine a concerned friend would, they used my depression, anxiety, weight issues, and smoking weed as an adult woman at a bachelorette party weekend as reasons not to be my friend. But something interesting happened yesterday after they started badgering me.

Ok, it wasn't really that interesting but it did help to keep my eyes open and see what is actually in front of me: love. My good friend asked me to be apart of dinner and drinks with her and some other ladies next week. That, coupled with discussion of drinks to make at the upcoming book club meeting, reliving this last weekend, having my mother stay with me, simply having Zoey, and my wonderful hero of a husband who jumps to my rescue out of nothing more than love, makes it impossible for me to really be genuinely upset over the comments, assumptions, and actions of so-called friends who only know I'm not the same person they hung out with three years ago. I have to laugh (even though it stings) at insinuations that I'm not a good mother to a baby they've never met.

After I received the latest condemnation e-mail, the invitation to dinner and drinks arrived shortly thereafter, from a woman who knows me, met me, is my former boss, met Jacob, knows Zoey, and knows our life. It is that I should be concentrating on and those opinions that really matter.

They've received enough of my attention over the years that I wish I could have back (more importantly, I wish I could have that money, time, and time spent away back). But I never would have known what was ultimately bringing my life down until it decided to unceremoniously leave. Finally, I had to send all of their messages to SPAM, realizing I was arguing with a wall. Friends have been randomly leaving my life since I was told I wasn't allowed to play by the wooden rowboat because I couldn't skip. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

I spent the remainder of the day conversing with my actual friends about super important issues: the latest People of Wal-Mart e-mail, drinks named for authors and their books, the Warren Jeffs conviction and sentencing (we read Stolen Innocence), fur babies, Seinfeld trivia, and the upcoming Montana Fair. I could call it a new-found appreciation for my friends, but I don't think that is fair; I've always appreciated my friends, the lives they lead, and the differences they bring to the table. If I didn't agree with something, I simply thought, "Well, whatever makes him/her happy. It's her life and I am certainly no one to judge." I would say that this experience (starting from when I returned home from Santa Fe) has taught me how to focus on what is good in my life regardless of what other people think.

So, enough of that unpleasantness. I woke up this morning with my load a little lighter and a thirst for news headlines so I can cram by brain full of things that actually matter. And, wouldn't you know, I'm clearly able to identify the love and hope that encircles the hate (i.e. people cleaning up the streets in the midst of London rioters). I'm ashamed I've spent so much time on this subject so far, that it has taken me awhile to discuss things I actually want to concern myself with: life, Jacob, Zoey, the way our lives turn, and, of course, this last weekend. I know I've referenced it a lot over the past few days so, I promise, cliffhanger over.