I can’t accept another party invitation because I can’t ensure that if plans change and I have to go alone I won’t fall apart.
I can’t drive Mark to another party because I told him I could only manage him and he brought two friends despite my expectations and this made me fall apart.
The drugstore didn’t have my meds on time and this made my insides shriek.
One of his friends tells me I am a fine looking woman while I am struggling to keep the car on the road and part of me wishes he’d slip out of the window and away from my mess.
I can’t go to that party house again because They saw me suffering and that’s not good. I’m supposed to hide it but there was more than I could take. All the people and the loud boys I couldn’t be responsible for and the young girl who loved unicorns who just wanted a normal day so I hid inside and ran outside long enough to take pictures of she and I and of her chicken.
The grownups at the party asked how I was and I told them it was hard. That I do better at home. That I loved their home and their family but it was obvious to them that I was dying inside just being there in the middle of it all. So many things and people and it was hot and I was scared one of the boys would act out or get hurt.
In the end Randy came and switched places with me. I took my meds came home relaxed felt better but now I am the one who cannot accommodate change. The one who can’t provide respite. The one whose near breakdown was somehow mispercieved as lack of love.
I only tried to do something I shouldn’t have. Something I have done for the last time. But my failure had fallout and now everyone is going on with their post-party lives but my misery is complete.