I hate drama. I truly do, but I seemed to have found myself in a bit of it.
One of my girlfriends is hosting a BBQ today. Many of my "friends" and past coworkers are attending as well. It started half an hour ago. I could have gone, but I didn't. I have a hard time fitting in with people my age, specifically women. I'm not shy, but I am extremely introverted. That's not even the real issue here, though. I still enjoy being social every now and then, but have lately felt conflicted in my current circle.
My friends are like pretty spring songbirds. The ladies are tall and slender, dressed in expensive fabric, spritzed with designer perfume, and bedazzled in sparkling diamonds. The men wear suits, slick back their hair, and play golf. When we're all together, they will only drink liquor from the top shelf and always with some sort of fancy garnish. They compare investments and property values and salaries and promotions and private schools... The ladies, specifically, enjoy trying on the latest styles, eating five-course meals at expensive restaurants, and having their nails done. They attend spin classes, make the most delicious spinach shakes, and have tans even in winter. They're all stunning.
I am in no way talking down about their lifestyles. In fact, there is a part of me that has become rather envious... Sometimes, I find myself feeling left out and wishing that I could be more like that... But as hard as I try, at the end of the day, my favorite topics of discussion include the following: major world issues, society, my wonderful two cats, my silly chickens, my new incubator, comparing tomato types, bragging about the size of the veggies I can grow, gardening, pesky garden slugs, etc.
So, I had *this moment* today, the moment that lead up to me posting this ramble.
I blew off my friend's BBQ, because I wanted to check out a feed/garden center in my area that I had never been to before.
Yes, a feed store/garden center...
There I was, gawking at all of the farm and garden supplies. In my over-sized sweat pants and pink camo jacket. Standing at an unimpressive height of 4'10 3/4". Bare-faced and hair pulled back in a messy bun. Nails bitten back to near stubs. Pale skin, dry lips, and piercings without any actual earrings in them. No children, no investments, no house, no impressive salary. And I was completely fine with all that..
I just wanted to compare the size of chicken feeders, ask the clerk questions about installing solar lights, and try to decide whether I wanted to plant grapes or arctic kiwis in my small suburban backyard. All of that was much more fun to me than attending a BBQ where I could no longer fit in.
I started thinking more about what I want: to move into a more rural area, fill it with some animals, and start a garden the size of most nearby housing plots. I want to be surrounded by thriving, organic life. I don't want to bar hop on a Friday night. I want to sit outside on my porch with a glass of the beer that I brew myself and watch over everything. Instead of trying on new shoes, I'd rather bury my hands deep in fresh soil and plant some seeds....
A few weeks ago, my friend announced that she was getting a divorce. This was the same friend that told me, not too long ago, "You need to doll up while you're still young. We're in our twenties, and our bodies go downhill from here!"
I find that statement terrifying. It sparks an insecurity within me and makes me wonder if I'm doing everything all wrong.
I have tried to be supportive, talking to her through the night while she cries and cries and cries. Divorce sounds terribly messy, so many complications and details that I wouldn't be able to keep track of myself. I have learned that my abrupt, matter-of-fact approach to problems has infuriated a lot of people, so I simply listen now. Well, I was listening until last night.
I say things like, "It's gong to be okay. You're going to be okay. His cheating had nothing to do with you. You're beautiful. You're okay. It's going to be okay." It seems to be what they want to hear. I would much prefer to say something like, "He's an ***hole, your two young boys shouldn't be around that behavior. So pick yourself up, girl. Stop skipping meals. Be strong, and let's form a plan. What is the next step?"
Last night, I finally suggested that she try to get absorbed in a few new hobbies. It had been a couple weeks of seemingly serious depression, and I voiced my concern.
I thought she had received my opinion well when I lightly added, "Why don't you bring over a movie? I'll order us a pizza. We can even sit down in the backyard and watch my chickens. I call it 'chicken therapy'!"
That last bit didn't end very well... at all.
I hit a hot button, because she went off on me. She told me that I had changed so much over the past couple of years, going on and on about how "different" and "strange" I was. Apparently, my circle has started referring to me as 'their reclusive chicken hobbit friend' behind my back, even referring to my house 'The Hobbit Hole' (and my house is clean, and beautiful, BTW). Then, she told me something that truly bothered me:
"You're turning into Farmer Joe," she said. "You need a serious intervention."
I MAY have retorted, "Well, for all the Smart Water you drink, you're sure not very smart."
...
So, I guess that's that.
I see less BBQs in my future...
Marie
One of my girlfriends is hosting a BBQ today. Many of my "friends" and past coworkers are attending as well. It started half an hour ago. I could have gone, but I didn't. I have a hard time fitting in with people my age, specifically women. I'm not shy, but I am extremely introverted. That's not even the real issue here, though. I still enjoy being social every now and then, but have lately felt conflicted in my current circle.
My friends are like pretty spring songbirds. The ladies are tall and slender, dressed in expensive fabric, spritzed with designer perfume, and bedazzled in sparkling diamonds. The men wear suits, slick back their hair, and play golf. When we're all together, they will only drink liquor from the top shelf and always with some sort of fancy garnish. They compare investments and property values and salaries and promotions and private schools... The ladies, specifically, enjoy trying on the latest styles, eating five-course meals at expensive restaurants, and having their nails done. They attend spin classes, make the most delicious spinach shakes, and have tans even in winter. They're all stunning.
I am in no way talking down about their lifestyles. In fact, there is a part of me that has become rather envious... Sometimes, I find myself feeling left out and wishing that I could be more like that... But as hard as I try, at the end of the day, my favorite topics of discussion include the following: major world issues, society, my wonderful two cats, my silly chickens, my new incubator, comparing tomato types, bragging about the size of the veggies I can grow, gardening, pesky garden slugs, etc.
So, I had *this moment* today, the moment that lead up to me posting this ramble.
I blew off my friend's BBQ, because I wanted to check out a feed/garden center in my area that I had never been to before.
Yes, a feed store/garden center...
There I was, gawking at all of the farm and garden supplies. In my over-sized sweat pants and pink camo jacket. Standing at an unimpressive height of 4'10 3/4". Bare-faced and hair pulled back in a messy bun. Nails bitten back to near stubs. Pale skin, dry lips, and piercings without any actual earrings in them. No children, no investments, no house, no impressive salary. And I was completely fine with all that..
I just wanted to compare the size of chicken feeders, ask the clerk questions about installing solar lights, and try to decide whether I wanted to plant grapes or arctic kiwis in my small suburban backyard. All of that was much more fun to me than attending a BBQ where I could no longer fit in.
I started thinking more about what I want: to move into a more rural area, fill it with some animals, and start a garden the size of most nearby housing plots. I want to be surrounded by thriving, organic life. I don't want to bar hop on a Friday night. I want to sit outside on my porch with a glass of the beer that I brew myself and watch over everything. Instead of trying on new shoes, I'd rather bury my hands deep in fresh soil and plant some seeds....
A few weeks ago, my friend announced that she was getting a divorce. This was the same friend that told me, not too long ago, "You need to doll up while you're still young. We're in our twenties, and our bodies go downhill from here!"
I find that statement terrifying. It sparks an insecurity within me and makes me wonder if I'm doing everything all wrong.
I have tried to be supportive, talking to her through the night while she cries and cries and cries. Divorce sounds terribly messy, so many complications and details that I wouldn't be able to keep track of myself. I have learned that my abrupt, matter-of-fact approach to problems has infuriated a lot of people, so I simply listen now. Well, I was listening until last night.
I say things like, "It's gong to be okay. You're going to be okay. His cheating had nothing to do with you. You're beautiful. You're okay. It's going to be okay." It seems to be what they want to hear. I would much prefer to say something like, "He's an ***hole, your two young boys shouldn't be around that behavior. So pick yourself up, girl. Stop skipping meals. Be strong, and let's form a plan. What is the next step?"
Last night, I finally suggested that she try to get absorbed in a few new hobbies. It had been a couple weeks of seemingly serious depression, and I voiced my concern.
I thought she had received my opinion well when I lightly added, "Why don't you bring over a movie? I'll order us a pizza. We can even sit down in the backyard and watch my chickens. I call it 'chicken therapy'!"
That last bit didn't end very well... at all.
I hit a hot button, because she went off on me. She told me that I had changed so much over the past couple of years, going on and on about how "different" and "strange" I was. Apparently, my circle has started referring to me as 'their reclusive chicken hobbit friend' behind my back, even referring to my house 'The Hobbit Hole' (and my house is clean, and beautiful, BTW). Then, she told me something that truly bothered me:
"You're turning into Farmer Joe," she said. "You need a serious intervention."
I MAY have retorted, "Well, for all the Smart Water you drink, you're sure not very smart."
...
So, I guess that's that.
I see less BBQs in my future...
Marie
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