June 25, 2008

Picking your battles (a story about control)

The number 1 question I get after I tell people that I am recently divorced is "Why/what happened?" The answer to that is way more complicated than I care to wrap my brain around at that particular moment, so my rote answer is "We just grew apart." But it's way deeper than that. So here's another peek into my pre-divorce mind that sheds a wee bit of light on the question of "Why?"......

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Friday October 6, 2006


So I'm sitting here at the computer, head stuck in the hot inferno that is my hair dryer, trying to convince my locs that, yes, you SHOULD be curly tomorrow, and hoping this setting lotion is as good as the lady at Sally's said it is. It's Friday night, the jump-off night for one of the biggest "holiday" weekends of the year.... that's right, Circle City Classic.

"But why Boss Lady*," you ask.... "Why are you sitting at home in solitude after your friends have been asking you on e-mail, text message, MySpace and personally whether and where you'd be out tonight, and while all your friends are kickin' it??" And the answer is..... I gotta pick my battles.

When I opt to go out, I have to go through a complex cost/benefit analysis, weighing how much fun I'm likely to have at a particular event versus which one of the seven types of hell I'm going to have to go through at home to get there, and what amount of shit I'm gonna get when I come back in the door, added/subtracted/divided by the number of times I've been out and the number of times he's been out. It's really quite pitiful, and causes me a lot more angst than I'd really like to deal with, but there are times, like tonight, where I'm just too fucking tired to hear it.

"But Boss Lady," you ask, "you said you're home in SOLITUDE! WTF? If he doesn't want you OUT, isn't that because he wants to spend time with you??" Well, loved ones, its because I have a lot more lax view of the world than some people. I say "Go... have a good time. I'll see you in the morning" and I do my thing (like wash and roll my hair, watch Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle, and create a new slideshow for my profile page). Contrast that with being told that folk REFUSE to come home and serve as my "babysitter" so I can go socialize with friends..... even though folk don't like the club and have to be pushed out the door. But I'm here in SOLITUDE.... so it's not about wanting me home to spend time with me, it's about not wanting me OUT. And, loved ones, that irks me to no end.

The problem in this situation is that the the world landscape has changed drastically..... as it should when people mature.... and things have flip-flopped and turned on their heads. And that's a hard thing to deal with. But instead of embracing change and adapting, some people FIGHT change..... But I learned a LONG time ago that fighting the change is just that...... fighting. And it gets old, and tiring, so there's just no point.... go find something more productive to do than sit around and stew in your own anger, and don't cause drama, because who wants to be around a drama queen?? Certainly not me......

Anyway, back to.... um..... I guess there was really nothing to get back to. Oh, you may ask how he is a "babysitter" and I'm just here with Miss Thang**? Dunno.... it's one of those great mysteries of the world that women everywhere ponder.

But ya know.... its all good. I was able to get my hair in order, watch Top Model with the girl, do the slideshow I tried to do for like 2 hours last night, and I won't have a hangover in the morning that will cut into my festivities that will begin at 4pm-ish and continue for the next 12 hours. I've got my Tylenol PM, my.... uh..... um.... yea, that, and the peace of mind of knowing that I'm one of the coolest effing women a man could ask to have with regards to the desire for autonomy, and because of that, I'm just chillin' tonight.

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*Boss Lady was my nickname that my "work spouses" gave to me because I was the first "work wife" to our "day husband"..... if you're not a fan of the show Big Love, then I'm sorry, you may not get it.

**Our then 7 year old. Don't ask me where the 12 year old was. Out kickin' it or some ish..... he tends to have more of a social life than I do.

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