Better with time sometimes

Last weekend I was rallied into helping host a block party with the two neighborhood moms on either side of me. I was to set up an area to craft spirit dolls in my place and the other food and games would be in the common yard area. I decided to step up the complications though, with my husband out of town for work I also took the time to paint my daughter’s room a pink I’ve been promising her for ages, the living room in Sea Glass Green and Juniper Breeze, and the bathroom in Stormy Cove Blue. I impressed myself, managing to have the feat pulled off in three days and still be stockpiled on supplies for the party. Someone who might have known me eleven or so years ago might be suprised I made it a week as the representing adult without locking my keys in my car, or house all while managing to get the tiny human where she needed to go. It feels like progress.

The party went off without a foul, a few of my own friends showed uo and we arranged a fancy assemblage of bat, owl, cat, and canine creatures using old jewelry, skulls, and donated fabric held up with wire. Outside I set up a Halloween themed bean bag toss. And the other moms set up various scavenger hunt, eye finds and other prize winning activities. The kids ran around til dark while the neighbors , friends,, and myself mingled as I made the rounds from spot to spot. That feels like success. Next party will be hosted at my girlfriends house, she has a little bit more elbow room for activities but for now it felt great to present something put together for myself.


Someday you’ll think about me. And realize it was your fault. That you never gave me a chance. That you placed insane expectations on me without contributing literally anything to my life. That every time I needed you, you were nowhere to be found, and every time you needed someone, I was there for you but you turned to someone else. You’ll feel a little regret. Like wow, I really handled that poorly. That will last about 5 mins then youll get back to feeling great about yourself. You won’t have YEARS of fucking pain and misery that will probably never go away like me. You won’t have constant feelings of inadequacy stemming from being treated like you’re worthless over and over. You won’t find yourself sleeping 18 hours a day because it’s hurts so bad when you’re awake and sober and can’t stop thinking about how you put in so much time and effort and really loved someone and just got spit on and ignored and abandoned. So thanks for all that. And nothing else, because that’s all you left me with.

Dear P,

I hope you’re feeling alright.

Me and some of my friends were chatting about how fitting it would be, if I died on either Halloween day this year, or on the same day that we’re going to Peter’s funeral, which will be tomorrow. Seeing as both events are about spirits and ghost’s. It did make me laugh a lot. They are right, though. Ha ha.