I have come to the realization that there are many types of surprises I do not like. My significant other and I have this debate here and there. I believe I like surprises, he begs to differ.
However, I received a text this evening from my thirty-one year old brother. It was one of those…call me when you can. In other words, its not just for a: “hi, hello, how are ya?” I was baby-sitting at a house in the hills with minimal cell reception…which is what I told my brother. He responded “landline?” Then I was like, “Fuck, this news is not going to be good” (for me at least).
I went ahead and called, though the service wasn’t great, I could hear him. Of course he started out with, “I have some good news I want to share with you.” Automatically, because our brains can think that fast, it can come up with several possibilities in a matter of ten seconds, I thought, Shit did he get his girl pregnant? Thank heavens no, it was the second conclusion I came to: he married the Canadian girl just as my mother and I had predicted just a couple short months ago.
I dont understand why, but every time I receive news of this sort my immediate reaction is to feel a strong sense of betrayal. Maybe it is jealousy masked in betrayal and anger, whatever it is, I don’t like the side-affects that accompany the emotion. My neck tenses, my mouth dries up like a puddle in 100 degree heat. I feel that thunderbolt of rage though my abdomen and chest, and then feel it go back and fourth a few times, not as severely as the first jolt.
I have never met the girl. Joey hasn’t mentioned anything that would indicate a possible nuptial other than the fact that “Marla” is a Canadian who doesn’t currently posses American citizenship. I immediately thought of the trips I made to see him in prison, which he was released from just a few days shy of a year ago. Anyway, I could make the trip up to see him, put money on my account so I could speak with him on the phone, cover for him every time someone asked how he was doing-okay, not every time, because some people could not be fooled. I did this for him, and he doesn’t have the decency to give me a heads up. Instead he waits until four days after the ceremony, despite the fact I had just spoken to him the night prior. Instead, he feels it necessary to inform me at midnight while I am out babysitting.
I don’t know what I feel. I just know that I have felt these emotions before. I notice them when I receive any news of this sort, an unexpected pregnancy, an engagement, an unexpected rush wedding (I should be used to it by now). But I am not. I think I feel stuck, stuck in a pile of muck while everyone else is passing me in the race. However I’ve thought this before. I’ve also seen how it ends. The sprung wedding lasted little over a year before papers were filed. The unexpected pregnancy followed by the shot-gun wedding proved to be quite the challenge that never seems to meet a resolution. These are just a couple of mentions.
Every time this type of news comes along I believe I am tricked. I, for a short moment, think that other people have it figured out. They have uncovered the artifact that we are all searching for, that “ah hah” moment we are all waiting to experience. That epiphany we all believe we will one day experience. Love at first sight, the accident that brought true love, all the bullshit that most likely doesn’t exist.
I guess I’m a bitter old hag because I am five years in. The sparks are losing there force–the force that keeps the sparks “sparked.” I am engaged, broke, and waiting to be accepted into a nursing program. I’m waiting to get into a program even though I am not sure its what I even want, or worse, something I can manage. I mean I know I could, but will I dread it and sludge through or become inspired like I’ve hoped I will. To add to this list, my fiancé hates his job, bitches and moans nearly every day, and doesn’t offer me the sense of security and hope I once felt from him. I didn’t worry that he would figure things out, do something he could tolerate, and make some decent cash. But who am I to judge, I’m bipolar Belinda over here, depressed and unsure of myself one day and ecstatic and overconfident the next. I am a hot mess, so why am I judging. Again, I need to be independent and accountable for myself. I make “me” happy first. Then I take on another type of happiness that can only come from another soul.
Is anyone ever happy before they take on that second responsibility, I mean is it possible? Happiness wavers like anything else that is in constant motion. Its never the same, its always more or less than the last “happy” and one will never know when it will go next or come back again.