Today, on a way to a meeting, I met up with a guy. Not just any guy. I met up with the Command Master Chief. As we started walking together, he gave the
courtesy “How are you doing, Angela.”
All I could do was laugh. More
laughter than was probably appropriate for the three minutes of casual conversation
that would accompany the short walk from the clinic to the club. Finally, when I saw how uncomfortable he was
with my lack of response, I said “I’m working on it.” We kept walking. We kept talking. About the places we had been and the people
we knew. He kept looking at the ground as
if the initial laughter still made him uncomfortable. Of course, I was wearing a pair of pretty
bangin’ new kicks. So he could have been
just been admiring my shoes. That shit
happens. A lot. But usually after I demand that people admire
them. This was different, though.
It was the final steps that we walked in near silence, that
I realized how tired I am of people asking me how I am doing. Because if you ask me how I’m doing, I feel
obligated to tell you. And in recent
years, I haven’t been doing that well.
In recent months, I have been trying really hard to be doing
better. But that only seems to have made
it worse.
So, when people ask me how I am doing, I want to be able to
tell them “Hey. I’m doing great!!!” And I want them to look at me with disbelief
and question it. I want to tell them “YES!!! I am doing AHHHMAZING!!! I woke up this morning and picked fresh
berries to in the homemade granola I made for Radley.” I want them to look at me with envy and say “Wow,
Ang. You made granola? And picked fresh berries?” In my mind, I look back at them, innocently,
and respond “I did. Isn’t that what good
parents do?”
When people ask me how I am doing, I want to say “Sooo good!” And not like I say it to Pedro when he asks
me first think in the morning how I am doing.
I want to tell someone that I am doing “sooo good!” and actually mean
it. Not like “oh I am sooo good because
I still have a house even though I am in forbearance on my student loans and
gas is a lot cheaper than it was so I guess I’m grateful that my landlord only
raised the rent $50 a month this year even though I make less than I did in
2010.” No. That’s not what I want to mean when I tell
people I am “SOOO GOOD!!!”
When people ask me how I am doing, I want to say “FUCKING
AMAZING.” And I want that to make them
uncomfortable. Then, I want them to ask
me why I am doing so fucking amazing. To
which I would respond by saying “Because I am having the best sex of my life
and I deserve it.” That would silence
the critics. That would make them look
at my shoes. That would make a
statement. Except it wouldn’t. Because
then they all know me well enough to know that good sex only comes in the form
of a vibrator. Then, they would laugh
and hand me some more batteries. And with
all the bad sex that I have had, nobody would believe me if I told them I
actually was.
When people ask me how I am doing, I want to shine; I want
to glow. I don’t’ ever get to do that,
though. Because I don’t have time to
make granola and the berries are dead.
Because it’s January. I haven’t had
the opportunity to pay the electric bill and my student loan payment in the same
month in years. Good sex only comes with
batteries included or emotional detachment.
So, when you ask me how I am doing, what I really want to say is “I’m
good. You know. Because I fight with my kid every day and I
have a hard time paying my bills and I’m lucky that I can afford batteries.”
I can either laugh or cry.
In the off chance that I get to be honest and tell people that I am on
the ledge, I have to wonder if should have shared the darkest parts of myself. Fortunately, when I share my failures and my
demons, I have the grace of amazing women to remind me “We won’t let you let
go. We won’t let you fall.”
-Inner Peas
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