Thursday, April 9, 2009

I Wish I Had Someone To Blame

It seems that there is always a new type of reminder to endure. Perhaps when I get through all of them I'll be able to just be myself. Last night I went to an Applebee's at the request of a friend that is an assistant manager there. All I needed to do was sit there at the bar and make sure that the bartender was ringing up every drink she served. The manager thought that was giving free beers to friends when they weren't looking. Easy enough. The problem came for me when I overheard the conversation of the three ladies to my right. They were all nursing students who were in their final stages of their education and were working in hospitals along with nurses. Then they started to talk about babies at the hospital. The detail of their conversation brought back far too many bad images. I tried to ignore it but Wednesday isn't exactly a busy night at the bar. I sat there alone just listening. After a few minutes I could feel that familiar anger coming back. This time I was angry at myself. Why can't I just let go. I know I'll never forget but really small things pull be back into the darkness and I'm tired of it. There are worse things that have happened to people than this. These girls were just having a conversation about their jobs like anyone would when out with friends. Why did I start to hate them? It was just for a split second but I could feel it starting. They didn't do anything to me. I guess I wish I had someone to blame. Now I have all of this hate and anger without a target.

1 comment:

  1. I went to Ikea yesterday to pick up the cabinets for the laundry room that I am remodeling (another project). The girl who helped me order them was 8 1/2 months pregnant with a little boy, due two weeks after me. I didn't punch her. I didn't even REALLY want to. Even when she complained. I just told her to savor the moments because all too quickly they are gone. She just smiled. I didn't have the heart to tell her. I didn't have the heart to tell her I had a dead baby who should be her son's age when she asked me how many kids I had. But you can bet I didn't really want those cabinets that bad anymore, and it made for a hellacious trip to Ikea...that much worse. Sigh. I hate the reminders too.