Autopsy of a wedding
I have such a shit memory, but I like to think it’s because I spend so much of my memory power on what the fuck I wrote last week and where I am in that whole linear storyline I’m meant to be able to recall on demand. I also like to think memory power is a thing. When I was a kid, I remember being frustrated how I would forget my storylines — and I sure as hell wasn’t writing those down, they were nuts, I would have been murdered, murdered. My mom reacted badly to my first crush? Murdered. But I also remember being like, “Oh well, I have this whole fucking sermon to remember the storyline then pick up where I left off last sermon and push it along a little more. No big deal.”
I didn’t listen to sermons that much, but I’m told with that particular pastor they were mostly history lessons, and I listen to a lot of history now.
Anyway I feel bad because I forget things that are actually pretty important. My friend at the wedding was reminding me that she took Klonopin, and I was thinking like, “Oh my God, I’m not alone!” And she’d told me that before, and I remember that now. Why would you forget something that results in you thinking that you’re not alone? Bad call, memory, bad call.
And there were some people’s names I couldn’t remember. And at one point I said to someone, “Isn’t it crazy they’re going to have 4 kids?” and that person had 4 kids, and I remembered that as I said it aloud. It wasn’t awkward though because I immediately followed with, “Like you!” because I am smoooooth.
Overall the wedding was good. But I was exhausted by it mentally and physically. I came home and cried all day Monday. I went to therapy and I just cried the whole appointment, and I probably shouldn’t have gone to therapy but I didn’t realize that until after. My psychiatrist was trying to get me to see the big picture, and all I wanted to do was feel sad about how distant my family was. But he was like “You’re choosing to be distant,” and I’m like, “Yes, kind of? But no?” and it wasn’t going anywhere. I told him this: I felt like he was trying to get me to admit that I wasn’t just sad, that I was angry, but then he was trying to tell me I had no right to be angry. His answer to that was, “Not quite,” and I don’t think we ever got to why I wasn’t quite right. Which makes me think I was right…
My dad ignored me the whole wedding. (My psychiatrist loved to point out how I used the word “ignore,” because I had asked him to ignore me and so why was I using such a judgy word? And I was like I JUST WANT TO CRY.) My sister graced me with one greeting. My mom graced me with one greeting and then gave me some odds and ends I had asked for… social security card, birth certificate, etc. My brother was getting married so we had like two interactions. Besides my brother-in-law, who doesn’t have much personal attachment to my personal attachment, my brother was the nicest person about me being there. I feel like I deserved a medal but no one in my family was going to give me one.
But, so many of my friends gave me medals. I have many friend medals. And none of them were like, “Wow, it’s brave of you to come here,” but one or two of them essentially said that, and the rest seemed happy to see me and I’ll take it. I was drinking the whole time. I was floating. Yesterday I thought for the first time, “Why didn’t we have cake at my brother’s wedding?” It took me 5 days to notice. My +1 played a big part in me floating. Friend of the year award.
After the wedding, I saw 2 more friends — one for lunch and one for dinner, and I spent the night at the dinner person’s apartment, and then I woke up and spent most of the day at the airport.
And now I’ve had 1.5 normal days of work.
I’m so glad it’s over.
They are apparently all vacationing together next month for my brother-in-law’s 30th birthday. My brother asked me if I “got the invite,” haha. I think he felt bad because (1) I had come to his wedding and (2) I was touring his new house, and so obviously it’s not like I was trying to stay away. But no, I didn’t get the invite, and I’m not going anyway, and my psychiatrist made sure to tell me that I couldn’t be mad that I didn’t get an invite because I didn’t want to go anyway! And my family correctly judged the situation! Why should I be mad!? … but he never explained how I was still allowed to be mad though. Callback. I need to follow-up about this.
I don’t know what he’s going for, honestly. It’s very confusing. I guess it would be less confusing if I let go of the judgment that my family is fucked up, but I don’t know how I can reconcile doing that. But maybe I’m getting there, or somewhere near there, because typing that out has startled me and my eyes are watery.
I finally wrote Tuesday night after weeks of not writing. And Tuesday night, while I was sleeping, I had a weird but wonderful writing dream after weeks of wedding nightmares. So that was very affirmative. Thank you subconscious.
I don’t know what my life is right now but it feels okay.
