Posted on | September 27, 2012 | 14 Comments
It’s been one of those weeks when every day I’ve thought to myself “TODAY is Thursday, right?”
Only it wasn’t. At least not until today.
I don’t really know why I was so anxious for Thursday other than that it’s always not-so-secretly been my favorite day of the week, ever since college when Thursdays meant raucous Late Nights at the Chi Psi lodge in Chapel Hill or 80s parties at Chi Phi or Sig Ep. Man… those were Thursdays… loud dance parties on the P2P or greasy food from Hectors or Time Out Chicken. But now, Thursdays really don’t mean much more than another day of the weekly monotony… get up, get J ready for school, drop him off at school, go to work, watch the clock until it’s acceptable to have lunch, and then wait out the afternoon with a seemingly never-ending parade of calls, meetings, and overwhelming paperwork. Now Thursday is here, and I can’t remember anything at all that makes today different from yesterday or tomorrow.
Lately, I’ve been growing increasingly tired of my day to day living.
Lately, I’ve been doing some serious longing for my youth.
I’ve been staying up until midnight with a glass of wine, feet tucked under me on the sofa and watching cheesy television shows and movies that make me cry until I’m sucking air in and around the snot running down my face. I’ve been listening to music from my college days, reminiscing about my years in Orlando, thinking about how things would be different if I were either still married or maybe if J had a father who lived closer and could be more active in his week to week life.
It’s been the hardest adjustment to single life for me. It’s been the one thing that makes me resentful of J’s father and his freedom. Because other than me, trying to remind myself, I don’t have anyone in my life who just sees me as a woman… not as J’s mom, or a boss, or an attorney. I have no one who sees me as beautiful, no one who tells me I’m desirable for anything other than wiping an ass or signing a pleading. I don’t really have anyone to remind me to take my hair down, change out of my work clothes, and just be the me I’ve been since 1997 when I stopped trying to be someone else. I miss being me. I miss the moments, though they were few and far between, when my marriage reminded me that I’m more than the sum of my parts, the collections of my titles. To J, I’m just his mom. And though I love, love, love being his mom… there are times when I need to be something else. Times when I need to be someone else. And I don’t have the freedom of finding that time. I’m a full-time attorney. I’m a full-time single mom. I’m a full time home owner to a fully in need of cleaning house.
I’m not dating.
I’m not going out with friends.
I’m not dancing anymore. At least not with anyone other than J.
And while I wouldn’t trade my current roles for anything in the world, I so miss feeling like a woman. I miss feeling like I’m here for more than cleaning a sink, for more than calling a client, for more than comedic interludes.
I miss feeling like I have something to offer a man… something other than a smart ass remark, advice on childcare, or help with a traffic ticket.
I miss feeling like a woman.
And I hate that being a divorced, single mom has taken that from me.