I'm back home now after a weekend at grandma's and church camp. Its a tradition. Every year at this time, we all get together and go to church twice a day and sing lots and then eat and then nap and then hang out. Its normally one of my favourite weekends. However... not this time. Being that it was the second anniversary of my Mom's death on Good Friday and it was my first debut as the girl who got dumped for the chick on the internet and who's boyfriend is currently in England visiting said tramp, I have to admit I wasn't too stoked to go. So, I set up a game plan and held my chin high as I went into battle.
I hate feeling other people having pity for me. I'd sooner contempt or admiration or fear and usually I try for one of those three. The battle plan was simple: Dress to kill. I figured that if I was going to cry every ten minutes, I should at least look hot while I do it. And I did. I've never had so many compliments from the people there ever. I mean, they've known me my whole life... and it's been an awkward one. I think some of them were surprised that I looked that good. But, screw'em. I've always been good.
However, I was correct in my assumption. I was fine for most of the time. And then someone would say something about G, or I would see someone gently touch the person they care about and I would lose it. It wasn't pretty. Some of it was people being very supportive (G's lucky he was in England or he would be very dead), but other people it was... not so much. One old man asked if G was "playing the field" while he decides if I'm worth settling down for.
One of the hardest things was seeing G's parents. When you have spent the better part of 5 years dating a guy, you get attached to the family. I planned to be brave and I went up and said hi. They asked how I was doing (they had found out about the break up, the cheating, the girl and the England the day before they arrived). I meant to say "Fine" really I did. But, I ended up crumpling to the floor in the dining hall and crying. Not so much brave... But, G's Mom and I went out for coffee and she told me to forgive G if I can, grieve as I will and move on as I must.
But, for some reason, the further I got from Saskatoon the less angry at the whole thing I became. I plan to work on this. I mean, I have a book about break ups. That should fix everything... right?
Despite me being a big ball of anger and tears most of the weekend, the services were great. Lots of singing and praying and all that. The speakers were good too. The funny bits of stuff I will put in other post. This one is just me thinking out loud. Not for your entertainment at all. I will work harder on that one.