Just This One

I stopped.

I stopped blogging. I stopped writing. I stopped communicating. I stopped socializing. I stopped attending church. I stopped caring.

I am not an expert in any field. I have nothing new to say about life as a mom, as a single mom, as a surrogate or as any other classification that hasn’t already been said or published. I have no great insight to offer anyone that isn’t already available on the internet. My life as a parent is no more special than that of any other parent out in the world. And as far as single parenting goes, there’s nothing extraordinary about a divorced woman living in an expensive town raising a child who’s pretty much raising herself. I have no extraordinary disciplinary struggles, no extraordinary health struggles, no extraordinary school troubles, no extraordinary life troubles. For what purpose should I put my ordinary life on paper/internet, in a web log. There is nothing extraordinary to be gleaned from my life.

I left Facebook and Twitter at the end of September, 2013. Twitter was a place I used to make myself feel heard, because most the people I followed – and that followed me back – were single moms. But they all had something that made them unique; a blog about their child’s plan to save the world, a blog about their crafts, a job where they were paid to write about their sponsored adventures with their families. I used Twitter to complain about life. And Facebook. I left Facebook because I couldn’t handle the jealousy. Every time someone posted about their new job, their new house, their new puppy, their new baby, their new boyfriend, their next trip, their freaking fabulous dinner at a restaurant whose name I can’t pronounce without spending $50… I couldn’t take it. There’s a saying by someone famous that I’m too lazy to look up right now about “no one can make you feel a certain way, only you can do that.” Well, that’s pretty much it. I was feeling so utterly low about myself and my place in life, that looking at other people’s happiness, I made myself cry.

I guess I didn’t really stop socializing, because that would imply that I had a social life to begin with. Until very recently, I was the only one of my “close” friends (cuz I don’t have friends because I don’t socialize) that had a kid. My “friends” have lives, friends they see on a regular basis, hobbies they can afford to spend their money on, trips they take to see family and friends because their only responsibilities are to themselves. And that’s great for them. But it leaves us nothing in common except we used to know each other in high school or in bible study or at camp or we like to get drunk and sing into the wee hours of the night when the stars align and we can all finally get together once every 6 months. I just don’t do “friends” because I can’t be there for them when if they need me, and there’s really nothing they can give me in return – we just don’t have anything in common. We’re strangers that get along.

I lost my connection to the “Almighty” so long ago I’m not even sure I had one. That quote about the definition of insanity? That’s what it was starting to feel like. Why should I go somewhere or pray to something when I keep getting the same results over and over again – or, more accurately, when I was getting the same no results over and over again? If others believe, that’s fine for them and that’s fine for me. I don’t respect them any less and I don’t judge them for it. In fact, I envy them. I envy their ability to “keep the faith.” But I have none. I have no faith that there is something or someone watching over me, keeping me safe, waiting for me to open the right door to the path he/she/it wants me to take. And actually attending church wasn’t making me any better. People would look at me with that soft eye and ask in a slightly quieter voice so others wouldn’t hear – “How are you? Are you ok?” No, I’m not ok, thank you for bringing that up. Because – and here’s the kicker – it wasn’t like they could offer any help. They wanted reassurance that I was better because I’d had faith. Their only response when I said I wasn’t ok or that I was hanging in there was “It’ll get better soon.” No solid advice on how to make it better. No personal experience they could draw on to convince me to “hang in there.” The only “real” suggestion anyone made was that I see a shrink. Thanks, Mom. Apparently it’s not ok to have self-doubt and self-hate for so long. Good to know, I’ll keep that in mind.

And it looks like nothing will really change much in the future. I’m still out of the house from 7AM until 6:30PM each weekday and 100% responsible for my kid on weekends except when she’s at church on Sunday afternoons. That gives me 2.5 free (as in not paying a sitter) hours to have a social life. “Hi, my name’s Michelle. I’ve been divorced for 9 years, I work 8-5 in a dead-end job, I live in an expensive city because that’s where my free babysitters are, I have babies for other people, and I’m only available to see you for 2.5 hours on Sunday afternoons. Want to go out on a date?”

So that’s it. That’s where I am.

I’m still miserable. I’m still angry. I’m still single. I’m still alone even though I’m “surrounded by people who love you.”

This is me. I’m the same person I was before. I just don’t care anymore.

And I’d rather just have a pity party for one, thank you very much.

Walk to End Alzheimer’s 2013

If you’ve been a reader of mine for at least 9 months, or if you’ve known me personally for a long time, you know that both of my paternal grandparents were diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. And earlier this year, my grandfather passed away from complications associated with Alzheimer’s.

3280_1587265359_customAlzheimer’s sucks. My daughter has grown up knowing that even though two of her grandparents loved her very much, they didn’t really know who she was – half the time they thought she was me. The hugs and the kisses were still doled out lavishly, but she couldn’t share with them her triumphs or her life experiences because she’d have to tell them all over again the next time she saw them – or in the next few minutes.

Alzheimer’s sucks. I couldn’t share with my grandparents the joy I’d found when I was dating Brad or explain to them that my pregnancy was not my own – because they wouldn’t remember. I learned that it was better for all involved if little white lies were told instead of telling the truth and either seeing confusion or heartache.

Alzheimer’s sucks. While I have a housemate who is the same age as my grandparents and I see her enjoying a life rich with friends and alumni associations and family, my grandmother is disappearing, robbed of her memories and personality.

On Saturday, November 16, my parents, my daughter, and I are participating in the Walk to End Alzheimer’s event at Anaheim Stadium. The walk is raising money to fund research for treatments and a cure for Alzheimer’s and to raise money for care education support and resources for more than 5 million people who are currently suffering from Alzheimer’s. I would love to receive your donation in support of my walk, in support of research and in support of finding a cure.

Because Alzheimer’s sucks.

You can donate money to my walk here.
You can donate money to my daughter’s walk here.
You can join my team and walk with me here.

My Clock Ran Away With My Period Key!

9/13/13, 9:03PM

“hi how are you doing this evening”

9/13/13 9:05 PM

Watching Doctor Who with my daughter.

9/15/13 9:07 AM

“that’s sweet umm I like that one show called doc the lamps with a cane I’m I’m hoping I get the right name other than that what’s your name my name is Robert I’m watching Will Ferrell with blades of glory it’s a comedy DVD laugh out loud tell me something about yourself what are you looking for on this website here for a relationship wise I’m just searching for the right woman”

Hey, y’all! What channel is ‘doc the lamps with a cane’ on? SMH