Mourning what I've made of my life

The other night I went to back-to-school night at my kids' school. My two kids go to the same school now, so me and my ex-husband decided to "split up" back to school nights, since they were on two nights of same week.

I took Ethan's night. It was "Back To School" Night for K and 1st grade. My son is in the "autistic support" class, but if he was in main-stream school he'd be in kindergarten.

From the minute I walked in the door, the night was hard for me. My children go to school where my ex-husband lives. Where I USED to live. Where I can no longer even afford to live, due mainly to the soaring values in property between 1999 and today. So, the typical conversation with a fellow parents goes like this:

Parent: So, you are Alicia and Ethan's mom
Me: Yes, nice to meet you
Parent: So, where do you live, A or W?


(As an aside, these are the two communities that feed into my children's elementary school. my ex lives in W, where houses are starting in the $500,000 range right now. A is the more exclusive of the two communities, houses start there in upwards of $650,000. In 1999, we built the house for $185,000)

Me: I don't live in either, actually, I live in Fairfax County, but my kid's dad lives in W
Parent: (With disproving look) So, their dad has custody.
Me: Actually, we have 50-50 custody.....(At which point I often feel obligated to explain to them the whys wheres whens hows of our current situation.)
Parent: (With judgemental, sugary grin) OK, nice to meet you. I have to go.


So, I enter the gymnasium and try to make myself invisible. I love people-watching. The people here look like they've come out of a "Homes and Gardens" magazine. All the men look like Doctors, Lawyers, or Stock Brokers. All the women are so polished and manicured. I look down at my own hands, my uneven jagged nails, down at my legs, the pantyhoes have a run.

All the parents seem to be paired into pretty little couples. This is the segment of society that seems to not divorce. I suddenly feel very alone. More alone then I have ever felt. I feel like an imposter. I feel as if I'm crashing someone else's party.

I DO NOT BELONG HERE.

I start thinking about Maggie, my ex's current girlfriend. Maggie belongs here. Somewhere along the line, fate really FUCKED UP and put me in a life I did not belong in. Lufe is now correcting itself, but a little too late. It is blaringly obvious:

I DO NOT FIT IN.

Then I spot a familiar face. A woman across the room, the mother of one of my daughter's friends. A woman who has been nice to me, who has not made me feel like such an outsider. I start to wave, but then realize that there is another face I recognize. The face of the man next to her. The face of her husband. From a one-night stand I had during a really bad time in my marraige.

I DON'T BELONG HERE.

I start having sexual thoughts about him, despite my repulsion at it. I should not be thinking about this! I start to think about how he tied me to the bed. How he licked me until I begged him to stop. How he kissed me on the forehead when we checked out of the hotel and said, "See you later, sweetie."

STOP STOP STOP STOP THESE THOUGHTS!!

Some how I make it through the little introduction in the gym. Now it is time to go visit the class rooms. About 300 parents stand up and start filing out of the gym. WE all walk down the hallway. I know where my son's class-oom is...it is down the hall-way and to the left

295 perfectly-manicured, polished parents turn right.
I turn left.

A well-meaning parent says to be, "All of the kindergarden and First Grade classes are this way." My response is, "My son's classroom is this way. He is in special Education.

SPECIAL EDUCATION
SPECIAL EDUCATION
SPECIAL EDUCATION

The words echo in my mind. All at once I realized that my son was different. That my son was "special." That 295 parents were going to the right...

AND I WAS STANDING BY MYSELF ON THE LEFT.

I snuck into the first empty, dark classroom I saw and closed the door.

AND I CRIED.

I cried for my wonderful son E, for the difficulties he's had in life.
I cried for my lost marraige.
I cried for my failure as a wife...as a cheating, lieing, lousy wife.
I cried for both of my children, for the effects my Bohemian personality will have on them.
I cried because I am different.
I cried because I am alone.
I cried and I cried and I cried.

There's no happy ending to this story.

This is just the story of the first time I mourned what I've made of my life.