"Every other Friday Night" Kay's Night out

Friday night...tick, tock, tick, tock. I have to get up, I have to go to my support group. I formed it, how will it look if I pull a no show? Bad, very bad. If there's one thing everyone longs for in the group including myself is security. Security... knowing that every other Friday night there will be support, tears, final divorce announcements, new separations, new relationships, and new books to share on "How to Move Forward to a New Life" and how "Divorce Equates Opportunity" or my personal favorite, "Paint a New life,"- art therapy for the wild-at-heart. 

In my support group, I will hear:

Susan talk about how she needs to lose weight, how she's not ready to start a relationship (she's been divorced for 15 years) and how she can still squeeze into her wedding gown by using coat-hangers, pliers and a lot of determination.

Tommy will show us pictures of his old home. The one he used to own, the home he worked so hard to get, the home where his soon-to-be ex-wife and in-laws reside. Tommy always smiles when he shows us the tree-house that he built seven years ago for his children. 

Cathy will talk about her late-mortgage payments, how her ex remarried and has a new baby, and how she wasn't always a stay-at-home mom. She'll talk about her dreams of moving to Paris, the fun times she had in college, and talk about how she was an attorney once, what seems to her now as a long, long time ago. 

Gerry will bring in his newest clothes. Ask us if we like his new selection of shirts, and show off his new glasses, for the 80th time. Gerry will say how he met his soulmate on Match.com, but when push comes to shove and an hour into our meeting he'll tell us it's a virtual relationship and how they both want to get to know each other through texts, late-night talks, IM's, and email first, before they meet.

Pam will talk about her pets, her kids in college, and the retirement plan that she used to have when she was married. She'll tell us how she forgot to check-in on her parents, how she hasn't gone to church in two weeks, and how busy she was at work.

There are newcomers, oldcomers, and the in-between-commers at our support group. We don't mind hearing repeated stories, seeing old photographs of smiles and laughter that once made up lives, or the silence when Abby blurts out how she won't be attending any more meetings because next week, she will be on a date: the first one in two years, in between raising three children and working full-time at a credit union.

We smile, we nod, we clap, we encourage and we look the other away when someone shares a story that feels way too close to our own.

It's Friday night, the every-other Friday night. Tick, tock, tick, tock. I put on makeup for the first time in a week. I have to go to my support group. The last thing I want to do is go to my support group. If I don't go how will I know if it's Saturday night, or Friday night? I always know every other Sundays at six, because that's when my girls come home.  

I'm up, I'm wearing a dress, I have makeup on, it must be every-other Friday night. I put my contacts on and throw my cracked glasses in my purse, and for a brief moment... I think...

I'm not home anymore making or ordering Friday night pizza, right now I'm not someone's client, I'm not somone's someone, I'm Kara looking in the mirror convincing myself to get out of the house and be with my group.

Tick, tock, tick, tock. It's 8:30p.m. "I have to go, I have to push myself out the door. My car smells, my nails are short, and my eyes look so damn tired. I have to be with my group. I cannot fall asleep on the couch. Wake up!" 

I'm leaving now, it's every other Friday night; tick, tock, tick, tock. The cat just peed, my dog is gagging, and the dishes are overflowing in the sink. It's 9 p.m. I can't find my shoes, my contacts hurt my eyes, I don't want to go.

Good night, I'm going now because how else will I know if it's every other Friday night? Laundry is piled, I'm too tired. Tick tock, tick, tock. I used to be so organized. I used to be so structured, I used to remember when I took my last shower. I'm out the door, I can't find my keys, found them. I'm going, my group needs me and I need them.