The Bush Years

I've been incredibly reminiscent this week and on the verge of feeling crazy. I know, how is that different from any other week with me? When did I turn into such a basket case?

It all started several weeks ago when I got this invitation in the mail:

For some odd reason, not for one second did I even entertain the notion of going. I blamed it on my circumstances and current role in life and simply thought "Too bad I can't go."

That was that and I was okay with it.

A week or so later, an old friend and former White House co-worker called to wish me a happy birthday. She mentioned the event and remarked, "You're going, right?"

I think I said something like "Pssshhh. Yeah right. I can't go to those types of things anymore. That was in my past. I'm a mom now. I have responsibilities. I can't just leave my kids."

She responded that I should just bring them along, to which I responded "That's not an option. Brian couldn't come and who would watch them in Dallas?"

At that point, I still was okay with not going. I still thought it was weird to even consider it.

Initially, in my mind, it was the hard core, senior staffers, or those staffers with mega political/Bush connections who would be going. But not me. I was just a lowly junior staffer. People like me would probably not be going. 

And then lo and behold, one by one, I learned that all my friends and former co-workers, and basically every former White House staffer but me, were going. Even the ones who had been in my lowly position. Even the ones who now had kids. ALL of them would be there. And I would not.

That was the turning point.

Suddenly it wasn't okay anymore.

Suddenly I wondered why I had dismissed it all so quickly. Why had I automatically assumed I couldn't go? I felt an overwhelming homesickness for my former life and former career. I wanted to be there with all my old friends more than anything. I wanted to be surrounded by all that political greatness, the American history, the perks of working for the president, just to sit with old friends and reminisce about the good old days. I really miss that whole atmosphere I used to breath 12+ hours a day. The urge to be part of it was so overwhelming it hurt.

I was so mad at myself for planning so poorly, for my once ambitious and go-getter mind having turned to mush for not thinking it was okay to allow myself to do such things anymore. I'm still not sure who would have watched my kids or how I would have worked out all the details, but I would have liked to have given myself the chance to at least try.

I broke down and cried for awhile yesterday and then called my sister, the one person who I was sure would understand. She didn't answer. So I cried some more and then was mad at myself for crying and told myself to get over it.

When my sister finally called me back last night, I thought I had come to terms with it all. I had even looked up plane tickets, but they were way out of my price range at that late in the game. I had no other choice but to be okay with not going. But when I heard my sister's voice and started telling her why I'd called in the first place, I lost it again. But you know what made it all okay? She broke down with me. She didn't tell me I was dumb for feeling that way, or criticize me for not figuring out a way to make it happen (although she did state what should have been obvious to me, "Britt, when you get invited to something by a former president, you just go.") She let me vent and told me I was validated for feeling how I felt. She told me that even though we knew getting married and starting a family were the right things to do, that it was okay to miss our old jobs/lives sometimes, too. Most important, she told me it was okay to feel the way I did. I didn't have to feel guilty about it just because I'm now a mom. It's okay to miss the past sometimes (as long as you don't get stuck there). 

So, by no ones fault but my own, I may very well be the only former Bush staffer not in Dallas tomorrow. Actually, there are a couple others not going, but only because they are off fighting in Afghanistan. So while they're doing that, I'll be fighting my own battles with my three-year-old, and trying to watch it all on TV. I will hear about it afterward from friends. I'll see their pictures on Facebook and Instagram. And I will have to be okay with it. And that is okay.