I'm about to whine. Ready yourselves.
I am twenty-four years old. I am a mother and a wife. I go to the grocery store, to the library, to the park. I make my rounds like anyone else. I just finished sewing a large, hobo-style bag. I just finished painting a canvas of some wildflowers in a vase. I just ate toast with Nutella and had a late-evening cup of coffee--probably a bad idea.
Here comes the whiny part.
I cried myself to sleep last night. I know...as if anything else could make you feel more like a teenager again. The truth is: I am lonely. Oh God, I am so lonely. I'm sure that the real--and somewhat subconscious--reason I'm writing this is that I hope that some other stay-at-home-mommy, somewhere out there will read this and feel the same and comment and I won't feel so damn alone.
I've tried so hard to make friends with young women my age in this town and it.is.just.ridiculous. They're all, "yeah I'm married but I like this guy I used to know back in high school", and "can you watch so-and-so for a minute? I need to take a leak and go have a ciggie". I don't know quite how to describe my situation without sounding like a complete snob.
Maybe that's what's missing. Maybe I am a complete snob and I haven't caught onto it yet.
I feel that I have nothing in common with anyone who lives in this area. I suppose it's the epidemic of any small town....not enough culture or open-mindedness or room to grow. If you don't fit in this box I carry around then you're shit out of luck.
So weeks go by and I don't receive a single phone call from anyone at all just wondering how Brittany's doing. Because, let's face it, there isn't anyone to do the calling. I wish I could say that my family is dependable on that note, but I'd be lying. I don't know...is it selfish of me to want someone to think of me, to just wonder if I'm doing well? I mean, I think about everyone I know, maybe too much. I even think about people I know well online because hey, they're real too and I love them and I care about them.
All day long. Vince goes to work. Hayden sometimes goes to pre-K. I do my routine. I switch it up. I get fucking bored. I switch it up again. I pissily mix a bunch of paint together until it looks like mud. I dance. I cook something. I try to ignore my phone/doorbell that no one calls/rings. I think when you're really isolated, you can only keep yourself entertained for so long before...I don't know. Before you want to run away or scream or break every plate you own.
This is what it is to be misplaced. I am a fucking island floating in the middle of a gigantic fucking ocean and I am tired of ALL THIS FRIGGIN WATER.
And I am done whining now. Thank you and have a swell day.