Last Saturday my step-daughter graduated from High School. We had a great party after the ceremony, our first time hosting in our new house, and got to see some people we haven't seen in ages. My husband's ex-wife and her entire family spent the whole day with us. Our other guests were amazed at how comfortable we all were together and complimented us on our ability to come together and create a positive and supportive environment for the kids. Aside from my pride in my girl finishing in the top 30 of her class and moving on to the next chapter in her life, the very best part of the day was seeing 2 of my favorite people in the whole world! It had been so long since I'd seen them it made me slightly depressed and emotional when they left. Seeing them made me realize 3 things. 1st thing, I think I may legitimately have a touch of Agoraphobia. 2nd thing, the 3 friends I love the most are a direct reflection of my personality. 3rd thing, I'm a pretty shitty friend.
From the time I was old enough to exercise any sort of independence up until I got married, I just generally enjoyed doing whatever I had no business doing. By the age of 15, I was sneaking out my window 3 or 4 nights a week. (Don’t worry, I’m not going to name any accomplices. You know who you are.) In high school, I was either at the party or somewhere having my own. As soon as I was old enough, I was in the “club” several nights a week. I use the term club loosely, and those who grew up where I did know why. When I went off to college, I immediately hooked up with “the Soul Stealer”. He didn’t have the most legit of professions so hanging in the club turned to hanging in the hood while he peddled his wares. What can I say? I loved the fast life. When the Soul Stealer temporarily succeeded in reducing my life to rubble I turned to the friendship and support of a great group of women.
I
think I have referred to myself as a hot mess in almost every post so far, and
it’s no coincidence that this amazing group of ladies became the self-titled
Hot Mess Express. At the time the HME was rolling down the track full speed
ahead, I was on the move non-stop trying to avoid the emptiness the SS left in
my life and heart. I was back in my parent’s house starting my life over again
at 30 years old, and it was a really tough time. I left town for the weekend
every chance I got because it let me escape the reality of all that I had lost
and the reality of my situation. The truth is that I’ve always been a homebody,
but for so much of my life I felt that I didn’t really have one. So, when I
left my parent’s house for the last time, moved in with my now husband I
finally had a place that really felt like home. Soon, my interests started to
change and things I used to think were fun didn’t seem so great anymore. I had
lived this life where I couldn’t settle down for so long that once I could it
was all I wanted to do.
Aside
from the whole “ready to settle down” thing, looking back I can see that there
was a distinct period of time when I suddenly transformed into a serious
introvert. Even though I’ve always been a social person, I’ve always had a very
small circle of people I actually consider friends. Most of the time, I either
love you or don’t want much to do with you. I’m a pretty good judge of
character most of the time when it comes to women. Men? Not so much. It is a
common thing that people who go through traumatic events like domestic violence
have a tough time with social interaction. I can still tap into how damaged and
ashamed that experience made me feel. It took months of counseling for me to
even feel confident enough to put a picture of myself on my facebook account.
Once I began to rebuild my life, I went through a period of time where I really
tried to broaden my social circle and make more friends. That was a miserable
failure. A group of bitches at my job tried to screw me over and get me fired
because one was gunning for my job. That was pretty much the end of my attempts
at forcing myself to give people a chance. I'm much better off keeping my
circle small and limited to people I don't have to force myself to initiate a
friendship with and automatically know I can trust.
Agoraphobia is as an anxiety disorder characterized by anxiety in
situations where the sufferer perceives certain environments as dangerous or
uncomfortable. I don't know about the dangerous part, but the uncomfortable
part is all me. I find socializing with people I'm not comfortable around
unnecessary and exhausting. I don't like clubs and concerts anymore. I rarely
drink (mimosas don’t count), I'm married, and I've become too self-conscious to
dance in my old age. I absolutely detest parties unless they're at my house. I
feel like the whole place is watching and staring like I'm some kind of weirdo.
I always feel so awkward and stay to myself which makes people think I am, in
fact, the very weirdo I think they think I am. Talk about a self-fulfilling
prophecy. This is where my mother would say I have an over-inflated sense of
self importance and no one gets off on over analyzing me. I know that she's
right, but that doesn't help me much in social situations. These days I like
things where you can blend into the crowd and no one is focused on the people
in attendance. I like to travel with my husband, go to plays and movies, have
family and close friends over for various occasions, and just hang around the
house. I suppose to some it appears that I have lost the ability to enjoy
life, but I'm really just enjoying it in a different way.
If you mention the Hot Mess Express in certain company either laughter
will erupt, women will start hating, or a story of some ridiculous shenanigan
one of us pulled will surely follow. We've grown up now (or at least we want
people to think we have) so we maintain a much lower profile, but in times gone
by, when you see Facebook profile pics sporting our signature red hoodies and
shades it meant either one or all of us was up to no good. There are grown men
who probably tremble in fear at the mere sight of a woman wearing them, either
because they owe back child support or because they know the woman wearing them
is hell on heels. To say that we have done our title it's due justice is the
understatement of the millennium. You can't even understand the magnitude of
the hot messiness unless you have witnessed it in person.
The sad part of losing my motivation to do the things I used
to enjoy is that I have grown apart from my girls. Maybe grown apart isn’t the
right term because I still love them the same as I always did and still
consider them my best friends. We just don’t spend time together like we used
to. I know it’s my fault and I feel a strong sense of guilt about it. After
seeing 2 of the 3 at our party and realizing how I have missed them, I found
myself looking at pictures of us together on my wedding day. Those
pictures are a reminder of the huge role the HME have played in my life. They
were the ones who picked up the pieces and helped me glue them back together
when everything went to shit. I wouldn’t be where I am today without their love
and support. Looking at a picture of the 3 of them standing by my side at the altar
made me realize that I was naturally drawn to these 3 ladies for very specific
reasons. There are qualities in each of them that I see in
myself. I’m a Gemini, and while I am not big into the zodiac, the
characteristics of a Gemini definitely fit me when it comes to that whole dual
personality thing. Needless to say, complicated would be an accurate way to
describe me. My favorite girls make me feel like I’m 3 people combined into
one.
The fellow founder of the HME is my HLP. That's heterosexual
life partner, which is the most accurate way you could possibly describe our
relationship. She has had many nicknames over the last 15 years, but my personal
favorite is Anya Johnson. She is probably one of 3 people in my life I can
truly say love me unconditionally, and that is no easy task. I've shared more
laughs and tears with her than anyone on the planet. She has been by my side
for all the best (and worst) times in my adult life. This girl has a quick wit
like no one else I know. I'll never forget being in a store with her and this
very unfortunate looking girl came up to us and asked if this hideous jacket
she was going to buy was cute. Anya's response was, "Personally, I think that
thing’s ugly as hell, but I’m sure you can pull it off." We quickly evacuated
the area before she figured out she’d just been insulted. She’s as fond of
embarrassing me in front of strangers as she was of embarrassing strangers in
front of me. She once walked into a fast food restaurant and announced that she
was there to feed her midget. She’s a good foot taller than me and makes sure
everyone knows her mini-me.
I could make this the longest blog entry in history with
stories about Anya and I, but one of these days I’ll just make her the subject
of her very own post. I love this woman more than she knows. We are alike in
more ways than you can count, but what really binds us is her amazing heart.
She would give the shirt off her back to anyone and pretty much dedicates her
life to helping and being there for people. She does this to the point that it
frustrates me because I want her to have everything she deserves in life, but
she is often too busy taking care of everyone else to focus on herself. Trying
to change people into what I think they should be is one of my biggest faults.
I earned it from my mother fair and square. There is a side of me that is quick
to forgive and forget, selfless to a fault, and sees the good in everyone. She
represents that part of me, and truthfully, she probably couldn’t have put up
with me all these years if she didn’t possess those qualities. I’m ashamed to
even say how long it’s been since I have seen her face, laughed with her and
hugged her neck, but I love her just the same as I did when I did those things
daily.
They say that every group has a crazy one, but the Hot Mess
Express might be lucky enough to have been granted room for 2, myself and H-57.
We have known each other for I don’t even know how long, but we really became
close when we were both going through the ups and downs of getting out of a
toxic relationship. She is one of those people who just marches to the beat of
her own drummer and doesn’t let anyone tell her what she should do with her
life. Almost everything about her is 1 of a kind, and she makes no apologies
for any of it. The all-time best tale about H-57 is when Anya, me and our
boyfriends were all in town visiting her and “going out for a few minutes”
turned into coming home lost in the sauce at 3am. We were awakened by the smoke
alarms to find a white girl wasted H-57 in the kitchen burning bacon trying to
feed breakfast to a couple of strays she and another honorary HME member picked
up at the bar. She is the girl who has no filter, fears little to nothing,
loves fiercely even when she shouldn’t, owns a gun, isn’t afraid to use it, and
will plot revenge on anyone who does her wrong. (Side note: All of us have a
gun toting, target shooting, country side of us, but H-57 is the only one who I
fear would actually shoot someone who pissed her off.) The part of me that will
say and do anything with a heart full of adventure and absent of fear, the part
of me that isn’t afraid to make mistakes and learn from them… that’s the H-57
in me.
Last, but most certainly not least, is the one we
affectionately call Dirty. Don’t let the nickname fool you though. She is
typically the one who has her shit together which made her kind of like the Mom
of the group in a way. She was the owner of HME headquarters, or Camp Dirty Hot
Mess, as we like to call it. Camp was a home away from home for me. A place to
just get away from everything I hated about my life and be with people who
loved and understood me. I met Dirty through Anya and instantly liked her, but
I wasn’t sure she liked me for the first few months. As I got to know her, I
figured out that she is just a woman of few words. You have to really understand
her to know what she’s thinking. I tried to come up with a good story about
her, but to be honest, I couldn’t think of any I can tell that wouldn’t
embarrass her terribly. All I can tell you is that my favorite story about her
involves the need for all campers to invest in a good pair of earplugs. My most
cherished moment of our friendship is when I asked her to be one of my bridesmaids.
Maybe it was that in the grand scheme of things we hadn’t been friends all that
long, but it was clear she was totally caught off guard. I wanted her to stand
by me on that day because I felt that she had my back on my worst days and she
deserved to stand beside me on my best. She by far the most reserved of the
group and is usually the one shaking her head in dismay at the rest of us. Not
in a judgmental way though. It’s more of a “You bitches are crazy and I love
it” kind of thing. She has had more than her fair share of heartaches, but
carries herself with strength, class and dignity. We’re all good Christian
women in our own way, but she is the one who never misses church, volunteers
for mentoring programs, and all the other things the rest of us are too busy
cleaning up her own messes to have time for. Dirty is someone I have tremendous
respect for, and of all my friends, the one I probably have the most in common
with now that my life is slow and steady. We have a similar vibe and vision
about where life is taking us. Her strength, her maternal nature, and her
desire for a traditional family and simple lifestyle are aspects of her I identify
with. Now that I’ve gotten my life together I see more of her in myself than
ever.
I’ve always looked at my sisters from different misters and
thought “Damn, I must be pretty bad ass if I am cool enough to run with this
crowd. How I deserve to have friends this amazing?” The truth of the matter is
that I probably don’t. These girls have been there for me in ways that I could
never repay them. There have been many times I’ve either dropped the ball or
just flat out didn’t do what a good friend would do. They’ve had to put up with
me through all of my poor choices, my shitty boyfriends, my selfishness at
times, my insecurities, my crazy bipolar mood swings, my mooching when I didn’t
have a pot to piss in. They didn’t even bat an eyelash when they probably
wanted to strangle me. I feel bad sometimes that I don’t have that ability to
just be supportive and keep my mouth shut the way they did for me because it
must make me seem like a total asshole. I can see why it might look to them
like as soon as the rain stopped and the puddles dried up I acted like I didn’t
need to stand under their umbrella anymore. It’s true that being someone’s Mrs.
has changed me. I think the moment that I knew I had really changed was at my
Bachelorette party. Here I was with my most favorite people on Earth, they
planned this great time for me and I couldn’t cut loose and be the old me even
for just one night. Club hopping would have been the ultimate turn up a few
years prior, but I really just wanted to go stay in somewhere and have a nice
chill night laughing with my girls. I felt so bad because they had planned this
great night for me and I was a total dud. I felt like the world’s biggest
asshole.
It was not my
intention to be so absent from their lives. My life is so different now. I work
all day, come home and make dinner, make sure the kids are on track with school
and whatever else they need, and by that time it’s time to go to bed and do it
all again the next day. On Friday nights, I am just beat and asleep by 8pm more
often than not. There’s shopping, cleaning and family events on the weekends, and
when the night sets in I’m in the house thanks to my pseudo-agoraphobia. There
have been many Friday nights I have laid on the couch and thought, “I need to
call. I need to visit. I need to do something!” Why don’t I do it? I wish I knew.
My husband encourages me to. He goes out with his boys from time to time and I stay
in. So, there’s no excuse really. There’s no excuse for not texting or calling.
There’s no excuse for not seeing people that I adore that live in the same town
as me for nearly a year. Sometimes, I wish
they would show up, drag me off that couch and say, “Get your shit together! The
Hot Mess Express is leaving the station and you WILL be on board.”
Day after day I’m missing them, hoping they don’t hate me, knowing
that they deserve better. It’s not that I don’t want to be there for them. It’s
not that their friendship isn’t important to me anymore. It seems I’m stuck in
my comfort zone, and it isn’t a bad place to be other than the fact that I can’t
expect them to stay in it with me. I feel like they know that they could call
me for anything they ever needed, but maybe they don’t. I try to put myself in their shoes and ask
myself how I would feel about me if I were them. I think I’d feel abandoned. I’d
probably be thinking, “She gets herself a husband and a decent life and forgets
who carried her to the place she is today.” I am anything but ungrateful will never forget how important they are to
me. If you ask me who I run with, now and forever I ride with the Hot Mess
Express. ♥♥♥
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Please leave a comment so I know I'm not talking to myself. ;) I read every single one. ♥