Everyone hates me. I know it. I can sense it. I talk to my husband constantly about this. I’m obsessed with narcissistic people. He says I have the problem, that I’m the narcissist. Ok, whatever. Anyway, back to me. What did I do? What’s not to like? I thought once I had a child all those insecure, crazy making fantasies that entered my head would disappear. I finally entered a club, the mommy club. You are automatically a member and no one can kick you out. I could walk around Larchmont village with my sleeping baby in her Orbit stroller buying Hudson Jeans and sipping my Peet’s coffee. Then I thought of this Woody Allen quote “Um, I would never wanna belong to any club that would have someone like me for a member.” Am I that self-loathing? Nonsense. I love myself. I say that into my mirror everyday. Once my daughter entered preschool, things got really rough for me. I was crazed over all the parents I was going to meet and I could pretend that I was really cool. Most of the parents at the school came from Beachwood or the Larchmont area. Those people scare the fuck out of me. Wait. Don’t I have enough to worry about being a full time working mom? No, I don’t. In school, my daughter Lola made friends instantly. But me, I wondered if the moms were going to like me. Being in LA, most of the mom’s are hip, work out, perfect eyebrows, and great natural skin. I, on the other hand, maybe get to wax once every two months, haven’t done yoga in 2 years and lucky if I take a shower every other day. No, that’s a lie I shower twice a week. They are Lulu lemon and I’m Big 5 Sporting Goods. When I would walk up to the “mom’s circle” right before pick up, I would feel the impending anxiety and sweat beading off my forehead wondering if I would say something witty or strange or weird, could they smell the fear off me, to be shunned forever in banishment eventually waiting in my 2003 Volkswagen Passat playing with my phone. I tried to think on the bright side; maybe they’d say “Oh that’s Lola’s mom. She’s a bit strange, but Lola is so cute, we can be nice to her mom.”  I said to myself  YES! My daughter will save my social life. I will ride on her coat tails. She’s smart, funny, full of life, who doesn’t want to be around that child’s mom, right? Whew, I felt relieved. The clouds were lifting.

Then one day I hit the bottom. A birthday party, all the kids were going in Lola’s class, but we didn’t get an invitation. Look, birthday parties in LA are like social events of the season at other places. It’s pony rides and champagne. Bouncy houses, cake pops, and margaritas. It’s the best of both worlds. I told the husband, to go look in the email again. I know it’s got to be there. Nope nothing no email. At school, all the mom’s were talking about it, I just nodded my head and played along like we were invited. I was a freak about it. My husband was at the point of ignoring me completely. He would call me BPM, that is the acronym for Bi-Polar Mommy. “You really need to deal with your problems and work your shit out.” He just wasn’t supportive. Things were getting bad. One night I just started crying, I let it all hang out. Sobbing to my poor other half,  We are not cool, you need to do something, wash your clothes, you look like a homeless person, they think we’re street people. You clean up well, you’re a hot guy. Intrigue and flirt.  He asked if I would let him sleep with one of the MILF’s at school. “YES.”  Just once. No, I am kidding. Maybe. 

I really need to start becoming an adult, a parent. I decided to take action. I took my shit to the Landmark Forum workshop. There’s nothing like spending 500 dollars on a three day 12 hours a day intensive, no break, half hour for lunch, six hours to sleep workshop to transform me, I believe that. I learned It’s my own entire “story”, I realized everything “triggers” me, and “anything is possible.” I was cured. No, not really but I did start to shift the way I looked at things.

Why am I thinking this way? I have semi self-confidence. I am relatively smart, have a great job; I do have friends that love me. I mean people have lives. I am not always going to be invited to things. I mean I see it on Facebook all the time. I’ve been de-friended, blocked and survived. Whatever people think about me is NONE of my business. But the biggest motivation is ensuring I don’t pass my freakishness obsession onto my daughter. But it was one thing that sealed the deal to shift my pathetic and embarrassing way of thinking. I was putting my daughter to bed and we reading a book and she looks up at me as says, “I love you” and went back to reading her book. See, when you have a kid its not always about you. It can’t be, the obsessive always worried about what other people think just really doesn’t exist any more, it won’t sustain, because in the end I just don’t have time for it. There are other priorities. Already, she is a confident, lovely human being and I don’t want to take her on my wagon train of bullshit with me. It is THE biggest motivation for letting go. Nowadays I am better, I do realize I am not the center of everyone’s universe and people have lives of their own and do not spend their waking life crossing me out of their invitations. I may not have it all down, but I am definitely working my shit out.