NoJoMo #3: The Good with the Bad

Thank you, Lisa, for your note on my previous entry. 🙂

Today, I am moody and emotional.

I overslept this morning so I was late for work. I really didn’t mind because I’m going to be staying a little late this evening and meeting a friend for appetizers (she’s coming to our office to job shadow this afternoon). I forgot to mention it to John last night so I when I made my daily call to him on my way into work, I mentioned it. It pretty much immediately led to a fight. John doesn’t like that I go out with coworkers immediately after work. He always asks why I don’t wait until the kids are in bed. I’ve told him repeatedly that it’s different with work friends versus other friends. My coworkers want to go to a happy hour immediately after work and then go about their lives. It’s not like they want to spend their weekends with people they have to hang out with all day. He doesn’t get it.

Every time I want to go to a happy hour, it leads to a fight for the same reasons. Over and over again I tell him that these people are coworkers, not “real” friends. There isn’t anybody that I would call to come pick me up if I was broken down on the side of the road. None of them know deep, personal secrets about my life. I’m not going to tell them I can’t go to happy hour because my husband wants me to go out at night instead.

Although, I may start going out at night too. There’s a girl on my team that is a few years younger than me and she always says I should come out with her and her friends downtown. I always say no, because I don’t want to get drunk and stay out half the night. But if John wants to pitch a hissy about it, then maybe I will.

There are some days I just hate my husband. I don’t generally vocalize that, to really anybody, but more and more he just rubs me the wrong way. Everything is a fight with him, and it’s really hard for me to handle. I don’t want to fight every day. But he’s so damn high strung that I just can’t take it. We fight, we make up (sort of) and we go about our lives. It’s exhausting.

Anyway, after fighting with him on my way into work, I come in and see that one of my friends (Brayton’s mom) has posted a sad post about her five year old daughter missing her baby brother. I just started sobbing. No mother should ever have to bury their child. It isn’t fucking fair and it makes me hate a world where any mother should have to, where kids have to learn about death of another child before they even know how to tie their shoes.

I’m just sad. I need an hour hanging out with a friend after work. I wish my husband could get that.

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