Friends. Or Not.

This time in 2 weeks I would have finished my first shift back at work.
I’m anxious if I’m honest.
Anxious about leaving Emma.
Anxious about going back to work with people who bullied me.

It’s not an option to stay home any longer, maternity pay is rubbish.
£136 a week will not pay my rent and council tax, much less pay electricity, cover my loan repayment and put food on the table.

We’ve worked it that I will work an early shift Monday to Friday and The Husband will have Emma in the mornings and lunchtime, and then he will go to work once I’m home and likely to work the weekends. It’s not ideal but it beats paying out almost ¬£250 a week for childcare.

Whilst I’m anxious, I’m also happy. I work in a role where I mainly provide customer services and some of the people I work with are absolutely lovely.

Over the last 6 months there have been days where I’ve felt incredibly alienated. People I thought were friends have dropped off the face of the earth. Some of the mummy friends I have met online have turned out to be not very nice people. Some have been brilliant rocks and I wish they didn’t all live so far away from me.

Going back to work means I may make some friends. And I’m realising that at 29 years of age, the fact that I’m talking about needing to make friends is incredibly sad and pathetic.

People’s priorities change, my close friends have all had babies too, so whilst we don’t talk/see each other a often as we did before babies, when we do speak/meet up its like no time has passed. I wish that diaries were more in sync, but alas these friends live far away too. I guess that’s what happens when you get married and move to the other side of the capital. Maybe one day that will change, who knows.

Today is a day where I feel very alienated. Realising that the people I thought were friends, are just mere acquaintances, if that.

The worst part? These “friends” are the ones I put a lot of effort into, always there when they needed me, always on the other end of the phone. Yet now they don’t even bother responding to messages.

I hope that when Emma is growing up that she has solid friendships. It’d break my heart 100 times over if she ever had experiences such as this one that I’m experiencing now.

Guess I just need to pull my big girl pants up and throw on my mama armour.

And buy more books.

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