Another One Bites the Dust

When do you just give in? At what point do you determine, “hey, enough is enough.”? When you do you stop trying, stop fighting, stop pushing yourself? Is it when you feel the slightest bit of resistance or pain? A touch of discomfort? Or do you take these things as fuel to continue on?

Today I lost another friend; partly due to my refusal to fight, partly due to apathy in general, and partly due to the dark cloud of Depression that floats inconspicuously above my head.

My friend told me that I was rude, that I constantly make people feel like they have to walk on eggshells, that I bring her down because she is inherently positive and I am inherently negative, and that some days she doesn’t even know if it’s worth it to her to continue being friends.

My favorite was this last line: “Some days I don’t even know if it’s worth it anymore, Jen. You have no reason to treat me the way you do. And I find that ridiculous that you think you that it is okay for you to treat others the way you do. Maybe we shouldn’t be friends because personally, I can’t handle you treating me this way. Especially when I’m not doing so hot myself.”

She says, “you have no reason to treat me the way you do”.

There are two sides of me that come into play. There’s the side where I am hurt and defensive, where all I want to do is lash back out at this person whose sole goal is cause me pain. Then there is the other side, the side that says, “Bullshit!”.

So I call BULLSHIT.

Maybe we should backtrack a bit so you can understand some history:

I grew up pretty much alone, not really spending time with those my own age. I loved to be around adults because I felt comfortable, unjudged.

I started struggling in high school. I wasn't sure how to be a friend to all of these new people who were interested in actually spending time with me. I let myself proceed naturally, not trying to coach myself into, “well you probably should give her a hug” or “maybe you should buy his ice cream for him”.

I found by my 25th birthday that this whole “natural” thing wasn’t working. I lost my best friend Saira, who, oddly enough, said some of the same things to me. Her biggest complaint though, was that I wasn’t really there for her. While I can scoff and call BULLSHIT to an extent, I do take responsibility for my lack of availability emotionally. She was right, I wasn’t there when she needed me, I was there when I wanted to be. I didn’t let her get off unscathed though. I called her fat. My second most embarrassing moment. That’s next to egging and defacing the property of my cousin in high school because she made out with the guy who took my virginity (humiliation clearly means something different to me).

After this loss I threw myself into self-examination mode and vowed that I would be the best friend to those who were still in my life.

Throughout all of this, I had Nicole. She is two years my junior and while we started off with loads in common, over the past few years we’ve gained nothing but awkward silences and hurt feelings from petty fights.

I had been wondering what to do about Nicole for a few months. For the past few years I had determined she was a liar. This was a difficult spot for me because while I knew I truly couldn’t trust her, I continued to do so blindly because she was my friend. I had been trying to spend time with Nicole but to no avail. She always had something else or planned or some unexpected event that would rise up and prevent her from being around me. I gave up for a while and had concluded I would gradually pull myself away from her.

By the way, did I mention we work together? Yeah…

Then Nicole’s uncle was murdered. What was I to do? Abandon her in her most desperate time of need? I couldn’t do that. So I stuck it out and forced myself to be there for her even though it made me grossly uncomfortable. I don’t do well with death. I don’t do well with highly emotional people. I don’t do well with sobbing. But I pushed all of the natural inclination to run the other direction aside and stood by her.

Or so I thought.

According to her, “[I] have no reason to treat [her] the way [I] do.”

Any other day besides today I would have taken her email, copy and pasted it into my reply, and addressed every single thing she said.

But I didn’t.

I just said, “okay.”

Our mutual friend said she saw this coming but from me, not from Nicole.

I don’t have much of a point to this. It’s more of a consolidation for myself. I have carried a lot of guilt and responsibility for failed relationships in my life.

I realize today that it takes two.

She broke us. And I refuse to fix us.

By the way

I purchased my ticket for David Sedaris today. I have told myself to do one thing out in public all by myself at least once a month.

So I'll be attending this by myself.

Dangerous as it may be, you can't live a sheltered life. That's no life at all.

Spirals are supposed to be pretty, like those things you did as a kid, Spirographs? They're these little plastic circles of varying sizes and you use colored ink pens to make a design on paper:

Ooooh pretty colors.

When I think of spirals I'm also reminded of the structure of our DNA:

Also, very pretty in my opinion.

Finally, my favorite spiral of all, is the Golden one:

I love spirals! Clearly! So why then, when I embark on the journey down the proverbial rabbit hole, do I find myself in the most desolate, unplesant, colourless place in the universe? I feel like I can't stop myself from feeling like my chest will explode if I don't cry. I feel like if my chest doesn't explode from the lack of moisture-emittance through my tear ducts, that my head will implode, leaving just my fluffy, sexy body behind, headless. As hard as I try to stop myself from the continuous plummet to the bottom, it's all futile (a word I find myself grossly overusing these days). I sit with my head in my hands, trying to hold the skull fragments and brain matter inside, and clutch my chest from time to time to ensure that my heart hasn't jumped ship and isn't leaving a bloody trail behind. I feel like crying but can't. All I want to do is go home, away from this place that I hate so much but for some reason, can't seem to get away from. And yet, I'm told no, you can't go home earlier. Just slow down. Slow down and realize that your mistakes aren't high risk. They didn't leave the company vulnerable.

And still....

The perfectionist inside wants to yell at him, "I don't care about risk! I care about the message I've sent, and continue to send, with each error I induce!" I may as well just get "incompetent" tattooed on my forehead... I have wanted another tattoo anyway...

I've made some mistakes at work and it just makes me want to lay in a corner and cut myself like an emo kid. I just hate it.

The fact that the errors of my ways are then microscopically examined by that Great White Asshole doesn't help matters. I only feel more stressed because now I've given him the good ol' "I told you so" card. He can use this now whenever he pleases. I hate that. This place is a game, just like life is, I suppose, and right now, I am losing.

I need to have better luck or learn how to count cards.

Then maybe I'll be able to see five moves ahead and get my Queen out of the way.

“If I discover within myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world” ~ C.S. Lewis

Cutest. Boy. Ever.

Truly.