Nonsense

Coordinating ‘special days’ is exhausting.

What comes to mind is when the kids dad turned 50. My deliriously young self put together 50 unique gifts; gifts no one could purchase anywhere. A shit ton of artsy sentimental shit. At that age I was still more interested in trying to make people happy than in attending to or admitting self-neglect.

Special days are earmarks to stories told long ago that if not for external expectation many of us would never open to reread. Honor, truth, family and martyr all get mixed into copycat narratives of chocolate cake mix, entertainment and wax. Maybe such a perspective oft comes from people not subjected to the idea that they’re special. It’s hard to know.

Was deleting texts from years and years ago recently and came across one from a woman I’d befriended. She was once a neighbor and as couples we’d hung out when our kids played together. She was and I’m sure is a genuinely beautiful person inside and out. She actually drove to my place a few times a month just to hang out. It wasn’t a quick drive and even now I can’t think of another person I’d call a friend that has ever made that kind of effort to spend time with me on the regular. My instinct was to push her away but I worked hard to accept her kindness.

After the divorce and move we made sure the kids played together and we made sure to hang out purposefully and separate from that. One day though my girl came to me and explained how she didn’t really like the daughter and was against having sleepovers any more; her at their house or the girl at ours. We talked about it and I asked her to talk to the girl about their differences and the sleepovers continued. One day however she returned crying and upset because the girl had moved into a social media phase and began making up things about herself while chatting with boys older than her.

Then it became sticky cause I wasn’t sure where my responsibility ended. The family is somewhat strict, Christian and on Sundays have bible study at home that my daughter attended so I decided to tell Mom about the boy thing cause if the shoes were turned (?) I’d want to know. She took it well and we continued being friends while the girls continued having sleepovers.

One day the girl came home crying again. That time she’d been pulled into the boy chat but was on camera and when she told her friend she didn’t like it she closed the chat but the damage was done. In the girls heart she was over being friends cause their interests no longer aligned. She wanted to play in the pool or on a computer game and the other girl wanted to tik tok and talk to boys.

Bottom line is that I ended up ghosting Mom.

After a six year friendship I ghosted her cause I didn’t know how to navigate the awkwardness of a growing apart issue. I didn’t think we could remain friends if my daughter wanted nothing to do with hers.

They were ‘special days’ back then but I also recall that coordinating them was exhausting for a variety of reasons. Mom didn’t know me cause I never shared myself with her. I was mainly a listener and shoulder to cry on. There are moments like now when I regret avoiding confrontation or when considering that an apology is long overdue. Then again, I consider that maybe I meant nothing and am just overthinking what happened.

Maybe such a perspective oft comes from people not subjected to the idea that they’re special. It’s hard to know.