Weekend + Lately

On Friday, almost immediately after I posted here, I hopped in the car and braved the terrible Northern Virginia traffic to go see my best friend Liz. She had had an epically bad week - seriously, when she called me on Thursday to tell me that her car broke down, I was like, Of course it did. And next your kidneys will probably stop working. Because y'all - THAT is the kind of week she was having.

Not thrilled with (read: completely sick of) July myself, I decided early last week to jump ship and go stay with Liz on Friday night. And internet, I am so glad I did.

I think it was good for both of us to get out of ourselves for a little bit - to be with each other and to let all other thoughts fall away.

It was good for us to get dressed up and indulge in a fancy dinner in Old Town Alexandria.

It was good for us to have cheap margaritas in plastic cups with sparkly straws.

It was good to spend a lazy Saturday morning at the kitchen table, pajama-clad and sleepy-eyed, as we sipped our coffee.

It was good for us to take a Saturday morning walk through Liz's neighborhood - to take the time to smell the flowers and pause on the bridge.

It was good for us to drive with the windows down, singing along to Miley Cyrus and Taylor Swift at the top of our lungs while our hair blew around our faces.

It was good to be honest with each other - to admit that lately, the week(s) had been hard, and that sometimes we felt really defeated. It was good to feel like we were not alone. But mostly, it was just really good to be together.

***

The last month has been really hard for me. After my miscarriage, I became kind of obsessed with pretending that I was ok - that I was bouncing back quickly and that people didn't need to worry about me because really. I was fine. I kept telling myself that lots of women have it much worse and that, since this was my second miscarriage, I should be able to handle it; that because I'd been through it before, I shouldn't need to take the time to grieve. AGAIN. My academic life had already been put on hold by the last miscarriage, and, quite frankly, I just didn't have the time to be upset. So buck up, Mary Frances, I told myself. Get your act together and move on. Just be normal.

Shockingly, these ridiculous commands did not work, and I once again - just like last April - fell into a serious depression. Three weeks later, I am slowly starting to feel like myself again. For real this time. I can feel my hormones normalizing, and the cloud of depression is beginning to lift - every day is no longer a battle, and I feel much more hopeful than I have in weeks past.

I now know that not allowing myself to slow down or face my sadness was a mistake. By not allowing my body to rest and by not truly giving myself time and space to grieve, I probably set myself back even further. And that just sucks. I don't know what else to say about it - I wish I had handled the experience differently, but you know what? I didn't. And at this point, all I can do is move on. All I can do is say thank you to everyone who supported me during that dark time, and hope that, if I ever have to face miscarriage again, I'll be gentler with myself.

So with that, August, it is ON. Here we go.