The Therapy Journals of the Fat-Headed Klingon Woman

One woman's journey to becoming Her True Self

Home, Sweet Home! July 15, 2010

Hello all!  Sorry for the extended absence.  I was on a road trip!  Yes, me, the one who is forever whining about never getting to go anywhere or do anything or have any fun whatsoever.  Ok, maybe I’m not that bad, but… no, wait.  I am that bad.  I’m working on it, ok?  Sheesh!

So anyway, my parents took my kids, myself, and my sister’s daughter on a road trip to Branson, MO this weekend.  No, they’re not crazy; there was a reason– they were trying to get out of their timeshare condo, but they were told the only way was to come out there and stay a couple of days and listen to some sales pitch or something and then the company would consider buying it back.  Wee-ll, turns out they were lied to and they didn’t actually have to go through all that, but the condo people wouldn’t buy it back anyway. 

Anyhoo, Mom booked some rooms down there, got some vouchers for shows and attractions, and planned it all out:  Grandkid time!  Quality time with the crumb-crunchers!  Road trip!  I was invited from the beginning, but it took me a while to decide I could stand to go with them.  Not because the children outnumbered the grown people, but because Branson, in all its hillbilly glory, was where I went on my honeymoon after my much-talked-about-and-whined-about-in-this-blog, ill-considered, ill-fated wedding! 

Yeah, imagine that.  Going back alone (sort of) to the place you honeymooned at with so much hope a mere, pitiful, three years earlier.  Continually thinking for three whole days, “The last time I was here was with ______.” “We went there.”  “We stayed there.”  “We got souveniers there.” “The last time my feet touched this museum floor, his were right behind me.”

Imagine doing that, and imagine knowing that it was a mistake from the beginning and everyone tried to tell you that you were nuts, but you wouldn’t listen and plowed resolutely ahead and married the guy.  And now here you are, metaphorically dancing in a salt-water shower after a quick run through a football field-sized bramble patch, revisiting the scene of the brief best parts of your huge mistake.  And you have to TRY to hide your misery because you are accompanied by your parents and your kids, and they are all trying to pretend they are oblivious to the fact that you are in pain, because they knew this would be hard for you, but there’s no point in talking about it. 

Well, I did decide to go, and I did decide I could stand it, and that I needed to go and make new memories with my children, my family.  (Special thanks to DM, the wife of one of my bosses, who pointed out to me that very thing, and was instrumental in my decision to suck it up and go.)  And that was my weekend in a nutshell. 

That being said, however, we did have a lot of fun, and the kids mostly enjoyed themselves.  They were all very excited and looking forward to the trip.  I’ll detail the weekend in the next entry, but for now I’m just glad to be home, and thankful I had my two favorite teenage boys to feed my cats and dogs while we were gone. (Think they might have forgotten the water, but anyway…)

And it has nothing to do with being back at home, but since I’ve been all “bite the bullet and do hard-ish stuff” I’ve even decided that tomorrow when I go to work I’m going to try to talk to “Co-worker Formerly Known as Obnoxious” because we still haven’t been speaking at work!  She speaks to me if it has to do with a customer and if it is absolutely unavoidable, but that’s it.  And I’ve decided I’m tired of it and it’s too exhausting and ridiculous.  Straight up, I’ll just admit right now I have no plans to apologize, and I admit that’s … shall we say, less than adult.  But I know without a doubt, here’s how it’s going to go down:  I’ll come bouncing in tomorrow morning, pleasantly and all friendly-like say, “Good Morning!  How’s everything today?!” and she will turn a deaf ear and pretend I’m invisible, just like she did the other day when I was approximately three feet from the door as she was coming back from lunch and she shut it behind her! 

Oh well.  This too shall pass, what doesn’t kill us, and so forth and so on, yippity skippity, blah, blah blah.

Until next time,



The Therapy Journals of the Fat-Headed Klingon Woman

One woman's journey to becoming Her True Self

Shawn L. Bird

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