Who You Gonna Call?

Sigh...I'm not sure where to begin tonight.  I need to get some things out of me, but they are hard and angry and complicated and I don't want to sound like someone just spewing nonsense, but I suppose I sound like that most of the time already.

I've been really struggling lately with the feeling of loneliness and just plain old being forgotten.  I don't know how many times I've heard from people that I haven't seen in a while, "I know this is a difficult time and I just wanted to give you your space."  What a crock.  I think it is really code for "I'm too lazy to put any real emotional effort in to our friendship/relationship."  

I understood some space in the beginning.  We were headed into uncharted territory and I did need some space.  I wasn't yet comfortable with the emotions I was feeling let alone comfortable enough to share them with someone else.  My confidence and self-esteem had been shattered like a broken mirror.  I no longer recognized who I was.  But that's been changing.  I have surprised myself with what I've been able to do lately.

And with the new found confidence (albeit small amount) comes the anger, if you didn't get that already...It has slowly seeped into my every pore.  There are times I feel like it will just come oozing out like the pink slime on Ghostbusters II.  If that really happened, there would be quite the pink slime river under our house.  My in-laws had a punching bag in their garage.  It now lives in my garage.  I bought some training gloves on Friday so I could start using the bag when I feel the anger is about to explode out of me. 

I've also been hearing about how others think it's so hard to know what to do.  Really?  You think trying to figure out what to do with me and Tony is hard?  Seriously?  Try delivering your first child, knowing that he or she isn't going to cry, isn't going to feed, isn't going to grow, isn't going to be coddled and passed around and ooooed and awwwwed over, isn't going to give you their first smile, isn't going to celebrate a first birthday making a mess of a cake, isn't going to laugh, isn't going to learn to crawl, isn't going to learn to walk, isn't going to call you mommy, isn't going to give you a hug, isn't going to give you a kiss, isn't going to say those three little words, "I love you."  Try letting the nurse take your child out of your arms, for the last time.  Try knowing you will never physically see your child again.  Try burying your child.  Try that and then tell me that knowing what to do with me is hard

I was thinking of all the people that have recently made me angry and a quote from the stoner movie Half Baked came to mind, "F#ck you, f#ck you, f#ck you, you're cool and f#ck you, I'm out."  That pretty much replays over and over and over again in my head these days.  

I'm out.