T-Minus Twelve Hours

So, in twelve-ish hours, my mom gets remarried.

I’ve been trying to tease out my emotions for a while now. Maybe lining them up would help me deal with each one. But I’m finding that I can’t, really.

I always cry at weddings. I’m a huge fan of happiness and love and I just get overcome. So there’s that. 

But this is my mom, you know?

My dad got remarried like, a year after my parents divorced, to a stranger (to me) in China, who still isn’t here due to immigration. He flew over on April Fools Day and stayed for three weeks. Sometime around Tax Day, he married her. He brought home a DVD of the wedding. I got to watch her get ready and him get ready and them saying their vows in Chinese and him playing Stairway to Heaven on an acoustic guitar. 

It was odd because I felt happiness for those two people getting married. Finding happiness. Finding love. It was like I was watching a documentary or a home video of two people having a foreign wedding. I couldn’t really connect to it being my own father. 

Tomorrow, I’ll be standing next to my mother as she gets remarried to a high school sweetheart of sorts, and I am wondering how I’ll feel. How I’ll react. Will I cry because it’s a wedding? Will I cry because it’s my mother? Will I feel like I’m watching from somewhere high above the ceremony, from someone else’s vantage point? Will I be sad?

I was a bit sad watching dad’s wedding DVD. Watching all of these family members be a part of this special day, but my brother and I not being there. Part of me was glad I was left out, but of course, it’s my dad; I wish I could have been included in some way.

Tomorrow, I am included, but I worry about how I’ll be. No, I’m not, I’ll do and say all the right things and it’s her special day and seeing her so happy will warm my heart. And yet, part of me thinks it’d be a bit easier to not witness it. 

I don’t know. Like I said, I’m having trouble teasing out my emotions. 

I’ve said it before, numerous times, but this is just something I never thought I’d be dealing with. My parents were married for twenty-five years, which was twenty-three years of my life. I’m twenty-six years old and I’m just now having to deal with a divorce and already remarriages. I’ll never be able to say which would have been better: them getting divorced when we were younger and we’d just be used to it by now, or doing it this way. I’ll probably always argue that it was harder for me this way. 

Of course, in the end, everything happens for a reason and everything happens when it should, as it should. How can I argue with that?

What’s even stranger is that dad’s wife has a son about my age, mom’s soon-to-be husband has a son just older than me and then two sons, seven and nine, I believe. 

I’m being very resistant to any ‘step-‘ terms. I have a mother and a father and a brother. I cannot call anyone a step-mother or step-father or step-brother at this age if no one has step-parented me or no one has been a step-sibling to me. I’m very possessive of my parents and brother. They’re mine and that’s it. 

But now they’re not. They’re other people’s, too. Perhaps I haven’t learnt to share quite yet.

I’m guessing most people who’ve gone through their parents getting divorced and remarried and doing the step- thing are wondering what I’m on about. I know. I’m an adult. I should have the tools to deal with this, I guess. Or at least be more open to these things. 

Maybe someday. 

I wish I could be a bit more like my brother in this case. He’s been very strong and ‘as long as they’re happy’ and ‘I’ve always wanted a large family/more siblings.’ I just haven’t, you know? I mean, sure, it would have been nice to have my cousins closer and whatnot, but Conor was just always enough sibling for me. I used to think having an older brother would have been nice, but Conor has the qualities of an older brother, so I get the best of both worlds. 

Now there are too many worlds, I think. 

And mom having these little kids around now. It makes me a bit.. I don’t know.. I wanted the first little kids she was looking after to be my kids, her grandkids. She’s going to be doing the parenting thing all over again before I’m even doing it. 

I am really going to hate even posting this, but I’m being fatally honest. And maybe someone will stumble across this open-heart surgery and think, finally, someone gets it

I don’t know. I guess I should get some sleep before the big day.

Mom’s going to look so beautiful in her dress. 

I’m Not Whinging

I promise. I’m really not.

Tonight, I was creeping through facebook, as I tend to do occasionally (because how else will I keep up with the people I don’t talk to) and I noticed that a friend’s little sister is engaged.

This is not to say that it’s not awesome for her, and I’m so happy that she’s happy; it’s just…

So I have these two girlfriends who have been my friends since probably before kindergarten. Somehow, twenty years later, we’re still best friends.

Growing up, our younger siblings were also friends. We each have a younger brother and those brothers are within a year of each other. One of us also has a younger sister, just slightly younger than her younger brother. She’s the one who just got engaged.

The other’s younger brother is engaged. My brother is quite seriously dating someone (who I actually love).

It’s just a matter of time before all the younger siblings are married………………………………………………………before I am. Ah God, I really, truly attempted to resist.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. People find happiness and love at all walks of life and it shouldn’t be discounted nor compared.

It just hit me, I guess, as things tend to do: I’m kind of, like, alone.

And have been. For quite some time. Or at least two years. Over two years.

And it seemsseems, seems, like everyone else…. isn’t.

Alone, that is.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course.

I just don’t always think about it or notice it and then suddenly, everyone and their mother (literally, everyone and my mother) are engaged. Or married. Or pregnant. Or at least fucking someone.

Ahem.

Not whinging.

*makes hand gesture as if to say, ‘that’s final’ and kind of means it*

I’m always kind of on the fence, you know? Like, sometimes I’m desperate to be with someone and then other times I’m looking around at my apartment going, thank Christ I’m not with someone.

There’s a hell of a lot of mental and physical freedom that comes with being alone. Shall we say ‘independent’ from here on?

I mean, I can sleep til noon and stay up late and eat whenever I want and – wait, that’s the freedom that comes with being unemployed.

Um, so I mean, being single: I can sleep til noon and stay up late and I can spend two hours at the gym and only buy groceries for one and go to Starbucks without asking anyone’s order and – you know, this still sounds like unemployment.

I guess it’s just nice to do my own thing. Most of the time.

Then I see everyone around me dating/getting engaged/getting married/getting pregnant/buying houses/getting dogs and I think about how much I desire those things. I don’t need plural house(s), but everything else, yeah.

When I moved into my new apartment, I decided to get a king-sized bed and put my queen in the second bedroom. When I told dad I was getting a king bed, he was like, “expecting company?”
I was like,

But then I was like,

Sometimes I just wonder how the fuck I’ll ever meet someone if I don’t have a job or whatever; but maybe because I don’t have a job yet, I’m not meant to meet anyone…. yet?

I don’t know. Everything happens for a reason and everything happens when it’s meant, but man alive, I’m not getting any younger.

What I am getting is more fit. Did you know it’ll have been a month, Friday, that I’ve been working out and eating healthily? That’s somewhat of a milestone, I reckon.

Truth be told, I would like to be in some semblance of fitness before I meet ‘the one’ – it’d be ideal, anyway. So maybe once I’ve got that checked off the list…

I’m still ridiculously, if not stupidly, optimistic about my future. I have literally zero prospects (in the dating pool, anyway; jobwise might be another story), and yet I still find myself looking like that heart-eyed emoji. If I could bottle it, I’d sell it.

This whole post even ended up more positive than I had planned. ‘The fuck.

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