Hate When Mom Is Right

“What would you do if your mom kept inviting YOUR ex everywhere? How am I supposed to move on with my life?” I asked my mother, exasperated.

“I would go out and meet new people,” my mother said with a smile. “Get out of the house. That’s what I would do.”

That was last night. I went to bed very annoyed.

Today, sitting at the beach during my daily “power hour,” I realized she was right. I could do something. I could get out of the house. I was blaming her for my not moving on.

“I need to see my mom,” I’d think to myself. “I can’t leave her alone. She’s old. What if something happens to her? I don’t want to regret not spending time with her.”

It was a nice comfortable rut. This month, living at my mom’s, it’s much easier to blame my mother than to go out and try to meet people.

And when I’m back in my beach cottage. I have other excuses. I’m tired. I don’t feel like talking to anyone. I like being home.

I have not made many attempts to go out. I haven’t wanted to.

Today was Saturday so I wasn’t in a rush to leave the beach. It was lovely in the sun, feeling the cool breeze, listening to the water and the seagulls.

I like my rut. It’s comfortable. But I feel fairly dead.

I picked up my phone. “What are you doing tonight?” I texted a friend from high school. I know she goes out. I’ve seen her happy pictures on Facebook with bunches of friends.

“I’m going out with a friend,” she answered.

“OK, have fun,” I said.

“Why?”

I explained the situation. “Why don’t you join us?” she asked.

I waited a while to respond. I had to think about whether I wanted to continue not having what I want. Could I take this step to get out of my rut? I was afraid I’d yes and then not want to go.

It’s strange. I used to love to go out. I used to love to have fun. I hated staying in alone. But something happened after my divorce. I went from being afraid to be alone to being really comfortable being alone. I think I had adjusted a little too well.

But it’s been four years. How much longer do I need to adjust? What am I waiting for? What am I afraid of?

“I’d love to. Thanks.” I texted back.

I don’t have to stay long.

I know, I’ll wear my cute little black dress. I’ll put some make-up on. I can even wear my new high heels. I could feel good about how I look. I could smile at people I don’t know. I could even have fun.

What a concept!!! My 30 year old self would be shocked that this is so hard. “Whats the big deal? This used to be fun and easy. How’d you get so old and afraid? What happened to you?”

Life. Disappointments. Doubts about my judgement in choosing men. Wondering if I could be vulnerable again. Wondering if anyone would ever find me attractive again? Wondering if I can be fun again?

My thoughts happened, I guess. It’s all in my internal monologue.

Tonight is my chance to get out of my head. And talk to people.

And have my mother be right.

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