Grieving the Old, Embracing the New
I always cry after seeing this group of friends. It never fails. They are all amazing people. Successful, full of life, funny, just straight down to earth, would do anything for you, good people. Ever since I got sober, it’s been hard to find common ground. I don’t dislike hanging out with them because they drink. I just don’t vibe as much now that I am sober. I used to stay up for hours talking with them because the booze made it so easy. I was funny and made jokes, usually inappropriate ones that got me in trouble with the husband. I told too much of our private lives and gossiped about others behind their backs. I maliciously said things about people that would have been hurtful things to say to their face. But it made the night go so fast...so easy.
I don’t do that anymore. Alcohol made me a different person. And I absolutely can’t find hours of things to talk about anymore. I don’t have as much in common with them anymore. They can get together and drink and talk for hours. I can’t do that anymore. I am not an extroverted person who just likes to mingle and be in crowds. Everytime I leave this group, I feel guilty for leaving early. Why can’t I force myself to stay a little longer, to try to get back to how it used to be. Because the word “force” was in that sentence. That’s why. When it’s forced, it is not sincere. It’s not fun anymore. I love them more than anything, but I just don’t love doing the same things.
Maybe it would be different if we got together to work out or do something other than a social drinking party. But we don’t ask each other to do those things. We always say we will, but then we don’t. I cried on the way home, as I always do. But then I flipped my thinking. I said “self you aren’t going to sit at home and mope all night. You are going to do something that you wouldn't have otherwise gotten to do if you had stayed at the party.” So I did just that.
I got home and took the babies in their double stroller with Diego strapped around my waist, and I jogged for the first time in over a year. I jogged for nearly ¾ of a mile without stopping. It’s hard work with a dog and two babies in tow! I felt so good and I felt so content. Yes, I am now that woman jogging with her kids on a Saturday night. Yes I am missing out on the party, but ya know what? I’ve decided this is where I would rather be! I took a route I don’t take as often that goes by Broadmoor Elementary. As soon as the kids saw the playground, they started clapping and pointing. They were soooo excited. I hadn’t planned on going to the playground, but I could tell how badly they wanted to go.
So we did. My fear of missing out led to this. I’m actually not missing out on anything. I am gaining experiences with my kids. I am having fun times with them that I wouldn’t have otherwise had if I had stayed at the party with them. I will have those friends to lean on whenever I need, but I will never have this night again with my kids. The laughs and claps and screams of joy that we get to go to the playground on a Saturday night instead of staying at the party.
No, I am not missing out. I finally get it. Instead of crying when I leave this group of friends, I should embrace the experiences I will get to have that I wouldn’t otherwise have with my kids. I don’t need to cry because it’s not the way it used to be. I don’t need to cry because I feel so alone and introverted that I would rather leave with the kids. I don’t need to cry because the reality is this is who I am now. I will always have these friends. No, it won’t be how it used to. But I can embrace the way it is now knowing that it is better this way. I may not be able to stick around for hours and hang out the whole time, but the time we spend together is still just as special. It may be brief, but it still means a lot. I need to love that this is who I am now, instead of crying about how it used to be.
