As all these emotions start to creep up on me though I think that maybe I should just to Disney for the whole weekend because Disney doesn't scare me. But these wonderful wonderful strong women that I'm going to spend the weekend with scare me.
They scare me because I so desperately want to belong with them because they understand, they know, they get it, they live it. They are broken in the same places that I'm broken, but they're muscling through it. Forget Ironman. Triathalon Man. Strongest Man. Whoever they think they are. Let me tell you, they are nothing. That's right, all you musclebound freaks out there (who I'm assuming/hoping don't read my blog) you've got NOTHING on these women. These aren't hoity-toity, fancy pants, tea and crumpets, starch in their knickers, little princess flower poofballs. These are the women that matter, that change the world, that you want your daughter to grow up to be.
I am desperately afraid that they're going to take one look at me and say, "Hey fat-thighs zit-face, yeah, you with the bad haircut, you. are. a. fraud. Your daughter isn't the problem at all. It's YOU. You suck. Go home."
Because that's what I feel like, a fraud, a faker, a pansy. My daughter doesn't have RAD, we've got no medical conditions, I have a great husband, I've got a lot going for me and I have not suffered for years and years and years like some of these women have. We have a pretty good chance at obtaining a secure attachment to and from our daughter and living out our lives with these hellish months as a distant memory.
On some level it would feel so much safer if the Welcoming Committee was a Screening Committee instead and would just put me right back onto a plane. Because you know what I would do? I'd cry for a few minutes, fix my makeup, and go back on home and do my daily life stuff every day with my mask firmly in place. It's so much safer and easier to hide, to be brave, to be "fine".
I do know they're not going to say to me that though. Because that's not what they do. Oh, they'll be honest with me and kick me in the pants here or there if I need it, but they will not be the people in my life who say that to me. Others do, others will, even if not with so many words. But it won't be these ladies. They remember what it was like when they were just beginning, when they'd been doing this for less than a year, when sometimes they weren't sure if other people weren't right when they said that they were making it up or imagining it. They know what it takes to keep going, to fight this fight for our kids. And even if I have it better than some of them, even if someday we have no trace of attachment problem left in our lives, they will be the ones who are happiest for me.
And so I know that this weekend will be hard, the good kind of hard (that's what she said) because the Welcoming Committee is going to welcome me and understand what the'yre welcoming from. It scares me to know that this weekend I will let myself break with these safe safe women to know that I might start crying before noon on Friday and not stop until my plane lands on Monday. I'll cry for myself. I'll cry for these ladies who are becoming my friends. I'll order drinks for myself. I'll order drinks for these ladies who are becoming my friends. They will help me. I will try to help them. We will shore each other back up and we will
It's scary to know I'm going to fall apart.
But it's going to be so good to let go.
I cannot wait.