Goddamn, way to make me flashback.
There was a point in my life where I was facing homelessness, was constantly job searching but hearing nothing back, and had to count coins to make sure I could afford to eat each day. Not only that, but the closest family member, who had invited me to stay with them if things went tits up, had just died two days before in a sudden and tragic way.
And my then-bf dragged me to a bar, where he and all his friends told me to “just let it go” and “loosen up” as if the basement rock of my world hadn’t just eroded out from under me. I sure as shit couldn’t afford bar prices, and not a single one of the group offered to get me anything, leaving me stone sober while they all got shitfaced. I ended up crying alone in the bathroom for an hour, and when I came back out, “bf” was getting a fucking lap dance from his friend’s fiancee.
That wasn’t even the worst part of the night. It definitely got darker before the light returned.
I’m okay now, over a decade later, in an infinitely-better place with supportive friends and partners. But man, what a journey.
My brothers: Punch each other, wrestle each other, cram each other into pillow cases and cardboard boxes, all the while yelling and screaming.
Mom: Says nothing.
Me (daughter): Doesn’t want to “sit like a lady” when watching TV, and wants to play in the dirt. Complains when she’s expected to keep herself to a higher standard than her brothers.
Mom: Sighs Girls are so much more difficult than boys!