I am really lucky to work with a lovely bunch of people, a few weeks after Emily’s dad left I went to the office for a catch up and told everyone and they were the perfect combination of angry and sympathetic. One friend absolutely refused to believe it for a while and genuinely thought I was joking…I beleive this is testament to the fact it is quite clear I am perfect wife material that only a fool would divorce (and nothing at all due to the fact I have a weird sense of humour). My director also offered to beat him up, he offered more than once – maybe a bit inappropriate but also quite funny (by funny I mean tempting, so very tempting).
A group of four of us meet up every now and again and I’m quite close to them. I overshare details of my sex life and various shitty parts of my relationship breakdown (overshare even more than I do with the internet at large). So I was pretty excited to have dinner at one of their houses. Emily less so. We stopped by the office first to say hello, the many baby enthusiasts all wanted a cuddle. Emily vocally said no.
We got to my friends house and Emily vocally said no to anything that wasn’t me bouncing up and down with her on my hip and passing her snacks.
So my friend’s house is basically like something from an interiors magazine, it is excessively gorgeous. HUGE victorian house, I think there were six double bedrooms but quite frankly I lost count (just as I got lost). Ceilings up to heaven, original fireplaces everywhere, mature gardens carefully tended to by their gardener. Every piece of furniture was very carefully selected and handmade to order. Lush.
My friend opened the door also looking LUUUSH. So lush you need to say it in a Welsh accent. That lush. Freshly tanned and gorgeous. My other two friends also look gorgeous, even the pregnant one on a hot day looked gorgeous. TOO MUCH GORGEOUS GUYS. So rude of them.
All whilst I was sweating, partly from the stress of a DRAMA BABY shouting at me and partly from the effort of bouncing her.
Just for context everyone has a lovely boyfriend / husband (except me – not sure if I’ve mentioned that?). One of them messaged her husband before leaving to ensure her bath was ready for her arrival – as to avoid waiting for the water to run.
Now – just to point this out first. I am super happy for my friends, they are special women, they totally deserve everything they have. They also listen to me complain, complain and complain some more. One of them even offered up the sexual services of her far younger (but legal to drink in America) brother in law. A sign of true friendship. I also loved the chance to catch up on all the office gossip I’m missing.
However, as I drove home I couldn’t help thinking about a few years ago when we were all equals. We all earned roughly the same, none of us had our own homes and we all had boyfriends. No husbands running baths, luxury holidays, insane mansions or fancy furniture. They have always had way better tans than me but that alone I can let slide.
So I did what I generally do. Call my Dad. It’s always fun when I call him in tears (via my cars Bluetooth, so the baby sleeps in her car seat – my only chance for a good cry) doing combinations of :
‘it’s not faaaaiiiir thooouugh’
‘I’m so saaaad thouugghh’
‘my life is ruuuubish’
‘my baby is HARD WORK’
I of course refrained from my ‘I will never have sex again’ complaint, I save that barrel of fun for my friends.
My Dad has the patience of a saint (as does my sister and best friend – however they generally have better things to do come 9pm on a Friday night) and managed to talk me around. However it didn’t make coming home to my small, predominantly IKEA furnished, untidy and distinctly empty home any more fun.
And do you know what stress does to you folks? Because what you need most when you are already stressed is… BEING ILL! Of course that’s what I needed. The perfect antidote to being ill emotionally is being ill physically. The whole shabang. This illness lasted two whole weeks minimum.
I won’t blog for every day of this period as no one wants that clogging their emails / WordPress reader thing. But I did try to follow my own absolutely top self help tips by leaving social media, doing lots of reading and having little treats. However I didn’t want to infect my friends babies and make them sick and I didn’t feel up to walks so we were mostly stuck at home. Quite depressing.
So here I feel the need to justify this particular blog:
I am aware how much I sound like the epitome of a self entitled millenial right now. I own my own home, I have my own beautiful daughter. Can’t I just feel lucky? And yes some days I feel absolutely blessed. But others I am an ungrateful twat.
I sometimes wonder if I should edit / exclude all the negative emotions that go through my mind but some of the people reading this may be in the same position as me and I don’t see the point in being fake. When you’re having a shit time sometimes it’s nice to find someone on the internet going through similarly shit times. You can be like yeeeees gurl me too *virtual high five*. Or you can be like ‘fucking hell at least I’m not as bad as this woman’. EITHER WAY I might make you feel a little less shit and it has totally been worth it.
I’ve probably said this before but I think women are FUCKING AWESOME but also can sometimes be dealt shitter cards in life than the menfolk so let’s all help each other out where we can and spread the honesty – not just the filtered best version of ourselves.
(NB The cover photo isn’t my friends house. It is comparable however she chose to fill in the moat)