I was doing perfectly fine this holiday season until I went to… the ghetto chopper. This place seriously never fails me. (insert confession: I know I promised that I would blog each and every day of my vacation mentioning what I was eating and the recipes, but I failed. This, I know. And as a side note, I only ate ONE breakfast sandwich. Any who, I was trying to keep myself busy and distracted… from being single.) Back to ghetto chopper. I had been going just about every single day this past week getting fresh ingredients (or a box of pop tarts) for my fresh meals. While in the express line after picking up some collard greens, scallions and avocados, I decided to scoop up a bouquet of pretty little orange roses… for myself. Why the fuck not?
- A) They were pretty.
- B) They smelled pretty.
- C) I’m deserving of a bouquet of damn roses.
Well, that’s when it happened. The old hag behind me kindly pointed out that orange is not a holiday color and that if I wanted to impress my mother, I should get the holiday bouquet of carnations and ferns. Seriously? She seriously had to point that out in the express lane? I then quickly snapped back that they weren’t for my mother but for… me. And that’s when things got ugly; on the inside. This old hag then turned to her husband and said, “poor thing is all alone… she doesn’t have any one to buy her flowers.”
Uh… since when do I need a man to buy me flowers? I mean, I do have a job with benefits and can afford all of my monthly expenses… I can buy a pair of shoes monthly from ShoeDazzle but not a dozen roses? That’s just not right.
And as much as I try to not let comments like that get to me, it did. And that’s when I realized that it was December 23rd; the day before Christmas Eve. The day before the date in which I would have been officially celebrating my seventh year with the ex-boyfriend. Two days before the morning I would wake up, wishing to be snuggled up next to a human, instead of the family pit bull.
It’s easy to tell myself to not dwell on what could or should have been, but it is easier said than done. I’ve had great distractions over the past two months but I’m realizing that I might not be over this whole past relationship like I thought I was. I’m still grieving what use to be and what I had come to take for granted, or maybe what had become tradition.
I made it easier on myself and drove home Christmas Eve to be with family so that I wasn’t locked up crying my little eyes out; which turned out to be a wonderful idea. The night was filled with me reffing the couples in the room playing couple board games, wine, so many laughs, shots!, inappropriate sex jokes from my mom, wine, take-out pizza, more laughs and a sappy conversation with my dad. It’s funny how someone’s true character comes out when they’re drunk; my dad, genuinely sappy. He waited until everyone left the room to ask me if I was happy. He then went on to tell me pretty much that I was a kick-ass kind of girl and that I deserve the world. I almost broke down only because I could see that he would truly give up anything to make me happy. I told him I was happily dating but my mom oh-so-kindly reminded me as she re-entered the room that it has only been two months and that she hasn’t met any potential guys. I kindly reminded her that it has only been two months…
No matter how many months it has been, it’s going to take more than that to move on from the past ten years. Lucky for me, I continue to be supported by friends who understand my minor breakdowns and always remind me to rebuild. And this I don’t have a problem with. What I continue to struggle with is the noise in my head reminding me of what use to be. I try so hard to forget each daily remembrance, but there continue to be so many. And this time of the year is surely not helping.
So if you see me in line, please don’t ask who the flowers, book, extra breakfast sandwich or coffee is for. Just smile and tell me that I’m doing the right thing, because really, this sure does feel like it could be a good thing.