Friendship

My younger daughter has many friends.  My older daughter has friends that have been her friends for many, many years.  My younger daughter had a break with a friend that was very serious.  The person felt betrayed and came back and said, "Well, I am still mad about it, but I have to put it behind me cuz I still want to be your friend."  I would say she and her friends love each other.  I wonder where they learned to have friends and be a friend.  Not from me.

I had a friend for many years.  One.  I have many casual acquaintances and waaaay too many relatives, and I am the kind of person that ends up giving the person in line at KMart a hug when we finally say good bye after our eleven minute life changing conversation.  I am also the kind of person that the Mexican handy man on the estate where I worked offered to marry one day when I was complaining about my spouse.  And I have always been able to make friends with people that I work with.  They have attempted to keep those friendships, and "friendships" going when we no longer worked together and seeing one another became less convenient.  But it was always me that dropped the ball, or let the air out of it. 

The one friendship that persisted did so not because of my efforts.  I am phone phobic and I love to read, and would never  bother to call someone just to catch up or make a date.  I just don't want to.  Part of it is time related, part of it, the biggest part of it, is definitely psychological.  But the friend persisted in keeping in touch.  Now we have parted.  She has denied saying things that I have in print (electronically) and she has accused my husband and me of doing things we did not do.  (Also backed up with the printed words she twisted) She claimed that some years back she decided to steer away from certain topics cuz she thought I was going a little wacko.  Well, shit fire.  Everyone knows I am a little wacko.  And the stuff that I have heard from her over the years indicating she is not going a little wacko but has crossed the line into the land of the strangely unbalanced, well, why even bother?   Today I received a letter from her that is so far beyond the pale (whatever the fuck that means) that my mind is spinning and burning and I am venting on this blog to keep myself from taking her letter and annotating each and every bizarre accusation she makes.   I am asking myself, and everyone around me, and they are getting damn sick of it, why did I ever bother?  What did I ever get out of it?  I would get so nervous about meeting her for lunch, I would have to take a Lunesta (maybe two) the night before or else I would toss and turn in a frenzy of anxiety.

I have rewritten my life in fictional works, three or four times.  I cannot actually rewrite my life, and when I consider the bad things that happened, the terrible tragedies that I wish I did not have to live through, the difficulties and mental obstacles and horrible decisions I have had to make, honestly, I look back and think that is just the way it was.  That is why I am here now and things are this way.  And I honestly don't think I would change it.  Well, maybe I would have married that med student, but I think he had a drinking problem.

But this friendship thing?  I twice have moved from towns and left no forwarding address because I did not want some one who wanted to be my fucking friend ( and I don't literally mean fucking. That's a whole other issue. And a way easier one to deal with.) to find me.  And, honest to God, one of them tracked me down.  What is wrong with me, except that my DNA proves my ancestors are from another galaxy, that makes me think friendship is such a HUGE pain in the ass?  I invite your input.  You may feel free to post anonymously and thereby relieve me from having to do anything, besides accepting gratefully,  that might be construed as friendly. But I am courteous, trustworthy, appreciative, kind, generous, unselfish, highly accountable, extremely responsible, fun, witty, (acerbically), literate, intelligent, attractive in an aging sort of way, just unfuckingfriendly. And that wacko thing.

The Beingness of Me

I don't know if it is how I was raised, or the size of my amygdala, or the mercury from the broken thermometer I played with, (you can make it walk down the stairs like a Slinky) but I think I have always had a concept of who I am, and I don't think it has changed much. I can remember talking to a friend when I was seven about what color I wanted to paint my new bike and I wanted it to be blue and green and she said that would be ugly. And, distinctly, I remember not arguing the point with her and thinking instead, she is just kidding about that or trying to be contrary, cuz blue and green would not be ugly. I didn't need to mention it to her cuz I knew blue and green would not be ugly. Just like, age five, telling the nun my coat is a pea coat. "And tomorrow it will be a "Q" coat", she responded. No insult. I knew she wasn't impugning my intellect or my vast five year storehouse of knowledge. I very simply KNEW, the poor thing, that her dad was not in the Navy.

And then, you are friends with someone forever and a day and you have shared way too much intimate detail about your life with that person, and suddenly, one day, you realize that the person she was friends with all these years is someone she thought you were, and not who you are at all.

I am so sick and tired of putting up with bullshit in the name of love. I am sure, if you did a search, you would find that phrase in my blog, over and over. I have given up so much of my life, and still do, in terms of time, of myself, of my energy, of my values, of my beliefs, in the name of love. And sometimes you have to. There is just no other choice. If you love someone, you have to be all fucking flexible and understanding cuz you love that person. But sometimes you don't have to. Sometimes there is not enough love, or it's the wrong kind of love, or the negatives outweigh the benefits that the "love" has been bringing you.

Sometimes learning these great truths can shake you to the core and leave you sobbing. Sometimes it can make you want to finish that book or that crossword puzzle you started. Sometimes both.