Exclusive exclusion

From maturity to immaturity in 60 seconds...maybe 43 is still too soon for me to aim for full blown maturity.  How do I know this?  Well, now you see, I thought I was pretty sorted in that department what with life, motherhood and marriage having kicked my arse into shape (no oxymoron intended) - but no, it turns out I still like to throw my toys out of the pram.

I blame social media. 

See I was on Facebook today and saw that a life long friend, whose relationship with me was ruined by a pair of diamond earrings and a lorry load of immaturity a few years ago is now getting married in May.   Actually I knew about this and I was genuinely happy for the girl.  She's been through quite a lot of shit in her time and I'm not just talking about the type of inconvenience and upset caused by losing a deposit on a holiday, I talking about the kind of pooh that lands you in therapy.  Yet she has always had an amazing outllook on life and only slightly self medicates on the rare occasions her seemingly perpetual supply of optimism fails.  I had a lot of time for the girl - still do.  Trouble is she doesn't have that much time for me anymore.  Long sorry story that frankly I've done everything to try to put behind me.

Over time however I chipped away at the crust of antagonism between us until I reached the softer layer of forgiveness - it has taken 5 years and it's been worth every chisel at the rock.  Finally I was able to meet with her recently where she showed me her engagement ring and it felt almost like a Hollywood version of old times to the point where she invited me to the aforementioned wedding.  Well, I was honoured.  I cried I was that honoured and for a moment I felt what Tim Robbin's character in the Shawshank Redemption must have felt when after 15 years he finally chips through the last of the cement that separated him from release.  My efforts had finally paid off and even though it felt odd to be invited in a way that was very obviously filled with caveats, it was something after years of nothing.  And if felt good.  It also felt just and I realised how hard this must have been for her to do.

So joy and gratitude were the specials on the menu that night .  Even talk of her bridesmaids had little effect on me other than more delicious happiness for the girl.  A few years ago it would have been inconceivable for me not to be part of her wedding party but today - I am lucky to be in the crowd and I'm happy for that huge concession.

Or am I?  Looking at her Facebook status update, as you do, I realised she'd had her hen party two nights ago.  Picture after picture of raucous fun to which I was most certainly not invited flickered on the screen. Click after click after bloody exclusive click .  Hell, an invite to the wedding was but a thought and a dream until last week.  So why am I feeling so deceived? So disappointed?  So down? I wasn't for a moment expecting an invite to it...was I?  I guess part of me was. 

It's clear then that I have a lot more scooping of earth with a tiny worn down spoon before I poke through the end of that long dark tunnel; before I break through the last layer of fuck up; before the tiny speck of redemption is revealed and I guess that's just my cross to bear.

I made my bed, I pissed in it and now I must lie in it.