Heartbreak in the Time of Wedding Planning

The thing is -I'm also helping two people in my life plan weddings. Heartbreak alone is enough to stomach. As someone who's really busy and risk-averse in relationships, it feels sometimes like everything may be collapsing all around me. I'm also at an age and a time where I honestly feel like I'll never get married and have kids, so I'm extra-bummed. But yes, let's walk through flower arrangements, chiffon vs. satin, aisle runners, corsages, and heels. 

So, my boyfriend and I broke up right after the holidays. Our relationship was going ok, but it wasn't quite smooth. I wasn't at the top of his priority list and he was he only person on mine. We're trying to remain friends, but I'm finding it difficult. We're both trying to claim that neither of us is at fault, but we are. We're at different places in our life, so I'm going to Bonnie Raitt it out ("I can't make you love me") and keep it rolling.


I'm Southern. I always thought I was going to get married at 27, babies by 32, and then in white-picket fence it at 33. However, none of that has happened. I'm a nonprofit executive, I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T. It feels so strange. I'm a black feminist, outspoken, and I feel like I've done all I can. My mother attributes my single-ness to my weight, but I have girlfriends my size, my education, etc.,etc. who are married, expecting, etc. I wonder what it is.

I told this to a fellow blogger who then wrote a scathing and insensitive post about how I'm my own problem, but I'm sorry. I'm not settling. *sigh

Anyway, I'm off to do what curvy black girls do. We go to brunch. We suck it up, put on our most fabulous outfits and celebrate others, even when we're hurting. Instead of being vulnerable (we're not allowed that), we go make the best of it, pushing our feelings down and putting the good foot forward. Act as if you feel better and you certainly will...

Until next time...JAG

On Mothers

Whew. I just dropped my demanding, detail-oriented, looks 10 years younger than she is, Mother off at the airport after a whirlwind celebration of her 60th Birthday. We drank wine, tried on bridesmaids dresses for my friend's wedding, went to work for a few hours, shopped at her favorite discount retailer, and got lots of coconut oil. I've come to an appreciation of her. My mother has a great eye for fabric, always has an encouraging word, takes whatever pieces of my closet she'd like, and moves things to be just where she wants them.

She's exacting, careful, and mission-driven. Whether it's time to clean, eat, sleep, or get ready, she adores the finer things (if they are on sale). Last night, instead of going out in the cold, she called the family over for an indoor picnic. We had wings, tater tots, wine, and homemade cake. It was the best birthday ever, she sad. We didn't have to go out and show off to other people, just chill in my apartment, make jokes, and love each other. It was beautiful.
A friend lost his mother recently and told me that he just misses "being mothered." There's no one to check on him every 15 minutes or call him out. He misses seeing the pride that she has in him. It's a close loss, a devastating loss, and a painful loss. I can't imagine his pain, but I can't shield him from it. I can just be there. It's complex, but ultimately it's simple.

Our mothers occupy a unique space in our past, present, and future. I am my mother. I'm just as dogged and intense as she is. But, I'm not my mother. I'm not emotional, sometimes I feel like I've aged faster, and I appreciate different things. I don't ask for permission, I take what I want. But, I often find I need to ask for forgiveness. Over the years, we've become more like sisters. We laughed heartily at watching "Downton Abbey." She noted how much it resembled her childhood in England. We went to Zumba together and shook our money-makers. We had a GOOD time. But, I'm also acutely aware, in a new way, that every moment is precious.

Just my Thoughts...

J.