Where in I talk about mum, friends, loss and my heart's house.
I've been gone so long. I haven't had the energy to post. I know that as soon as I start talking, its going to snow ball from there. I'm not making it friends only, or filtering it for the first time in a while. Here goes:
She was my best friend, you know. I don't think I realised it until months after she died. I didn't realise how much I relied on her calm acceptance of everything I ever said, of her scolding me for wrongs. The hours on the phone were a life line. I could picture her smile, or more frequently, her pursed lips and a cocked eyebrow as she tries not to be amused by whatever antics I had gotten up to. Her occasionally distracted "hmms" as I talked about my art (and she clicked obsessively over whatever facebook game) or social drama I had going on at the time.
I miss her strength. I am so proud to have had her as my mother. She put up with more than a DECADE of cancer. The latter years with one of the most painful kinds of cancer. Frankly, she did more than suffer through it, or put up with it. She thrived. She raised two daughters, was a loving wife, and consistently did the things she loved. She lived so fully that I know she left with few regrets. She fought for every day of her life. I only hope to be half the woman she was. Her loss is something I will never get over.
I'm lucky. I have other loved ones, other best friends to help with the burden. Luckily, some of them have expanded in size in my heart, somehow filling that hole a little. Its amasing how that can happen. I never figured I could love Heather any more than I already did, but somehow I do. I consistently feel humbled by her strength as she maneuvers the often heartbreaking ordeal of the estate and of our family's betrayals. She is so heartbreakingly honest with me on so many issues that I can only try to do the same. I can't even say that she's my rock, really. She's more than that. She taught me what family really is. They say blood is thicker than water, but with the halflings I almost gave up on the idea of family. Heather taught me that family has nothing to do with circumstances of birth. I was lucky to have actually been born with the same blood as the person I chose to have as my sister.
My friends have taken up mantles I never expected of them, giving me advice, holding my hand, or just making me laugh. I feel honoured and blessed to have them. I haven't been entirely present for my friends, not in a long time. I'm trying to change that. I want help, if you can. If you've held back contacting me because I wasn't able to be there for you previously, please, try again. I am somewhat unwilling to make the first overture, unsure of how much my inability to communicate has damaged a friendship irrevocably. I'm not saying there will be instant change. I'm trying to determine how much I have left of myself. How much I can genuinely give to my friends as a whole, and as individuals. There's a balancing act that I'm trying to learn, how much do I keep for myself to keep myself sane... but without losing the people who make sanity worth it. I beg your indulgence.
With everything that happened with Russ, I feel pretty shaken on my foundations. When I broke up with them in the first place, I was really messed up. I had lost my mother not even a year prior, and had limited 'pillars' of support. I had many friends, but not many that I felt comfortable leaning on. That is one of my failings. I have a hard time asking for help.
I don't think I knew how fragile I was, going into that relationship. In hindsight, I wonder what the hell THEY were thinking, no less what I was. Realistically, I shouldn't even have THOUGHT about a relationship for longer than I was with them. Really people: my mum had just died, my boyfriend had betrayed me with two of my friends (among others), Red and I were not talking, I was in my last year of school---which I was only determined to finish because thats what my dead parents would have wanted---, my family was turning into a raging monstrocity, plus the PLETHORA of relationship deficiencies coming from the boyfriend before Jeff (five years before Jeff, yea. That was how long it took for me to get over THAT mess. Did I mention I left the province to get away from him?) who was an abusive asshole.
What the hell were we thinking? OF COURSE thats a recipe for disaster. Theoretically, even if we were to have tried it on a 'casual basis I hadn't loved them (which I did and still do. The one and only time I've ever broken up with someone whilst still loving them).... I was in no headspace to take care of MYSELF. Frankly, I'm surprised I surived without a trip to the psych ward. No joke. In the end, it wasn't really anything THEY did to warrant me breaking up. They were perfect. Just not for me. I don't regret dating them, not for a second. They healed a lot of wounds I didn't even realise I had. In the end, we wanted different things. I didn't know I wanted those things until they taught me.
One of the reasons I felt distressed at breaking up with M and R was because in any other situation, they would have been the people I would have gone to for support. Without that, I had to redistribute my emotional weight onto other support pillars. I think in doing so, and in a need for my own space, I hurt a lot of people. I have a hard time owning up to my mistakes. In some ways, I've equated apologies to excuses in my head. I've done what I did for a reason (erroneous or otherwise) and making an excuse is the worst kind of reparation you can do. I can logically understand that an apology is not only a kindness, sometimes its a necessity and its unfair of me to withhold that---for my own pride? I'm not sure. There are plenty of people out there who deserve an apology from me, M and R being two of them.
Still, it takes two to tango and there are some major hurt feelings on my side as well. I'm still grappling with that. Perhaps Russ and I will never talk again (and that breaks my heart), perhaps we'll work through this and be stronger friends. I am frustrated with myself in how long its taking to come to terms with what he said. I think that with all the putting off of my feelings regarding mum and dad, the general loneliness of being single, losing a good number of friends in a very short period of time, Russ' comments.... I'm being hit from far too many sides.
As you know, I've lost friends before. Stephanie walked away and I still don't know why. People drift away. Sometimes they come back, some times not. This is hard, it hurts in a physical way. I feel like I've lost a little bit of who I am. I am not sure I can forgive that. He told me once that he would always be there for me. I believed him. His behaviour feels like a betrayal. Not necessarily fair of me, but thats how it feels.
Still. I survived worse. Life goes on, sorrow fades. I know this. Doesn't make it easier to wade through the marshes though.
Regardless of this, I AM doing better than my last few posts. I'm slowly pin pointing my issues, narrowing my focus (and prioritizing what to work on) and regaining my balance on something resembling firm ground. I don't feel like I'm surrounded by quicksand and one false move will drown me.
I'm filling the holes with people who understand me. Not all of them are people I expected. There are new holes that need to be filled in, and its never going to be a perfect match. Still, its not like I can tear it all down and start from scratch(perhaps to say, I'm unwilling to do so and lose the precious framing already in place). At least I'm not doing the typical college dorm quick fix any more and filling in the holes with toothpaste and gum. To continue the bad construction metaphor, I'm using quality materials and taking the time to sand off the rough edges. I'm lucky. I was given a fantastic foundation from the love and support from my parents and soul sister.
Eventually, maybe it'll look like new, and I can give it a coating of paint and feel proud of the walls of my heart. The space might not be the most organized, or the cleanest. The windows are going to be the wrong sizes--some might be too big, or with no screen to stop the flies from getting in... some might be too small, the curtains too heavy, not letting light in. The doors will be put in crooked and sometimes they'll stick. The bathtub tap will leak, and at the same time the drain will get clogged with deleterious emotional garbage, flooding the bathroom every once in a while. The dishes are never done when they should be, because I keep putting them off--just like my emotional problems.
But I'm hoping it'll be cluttered with a lot of pictures of people I love, comfy furniture that will welcome people to stay for a long time and warmth to help me last through the inevitable cold winters. There are dishes enough for a dinner party of 30, even if there isn't enough seats. There's plenty of bedding for those who want to stay longer.
And that will just have to be enough.
She was my best friend, you know. I don't think I realised it until months after she died. I didn't realise how much I relied on her calm acceptance of everything I ever said, of her scolding me for wrongs. The hours on the phone were a life line. I could picture her smile, or more frequently, her pursed lips and a cocked eyebrow as she tries not to be amused by whatever antics I had gotten up to. Her occasionally distracted "hmms" as I talked about my art (and she clicked obsessively over whatever facebook game) or social drama I had going on at the time.
I miss her strength. I am so proud to have had her as my mother. She put up with more than a DECADE of cancer. The latter years with one of the most painful kinds of cancer. Frankly, she did more than suffer through it, or put up with it. She thrived. She raised two daughters, was a loving wife, and consistently did the things she loved. She lived so fully that I know she left with few regrets. She fought for every day of her life. I only hope to be half the woman she was. Her loss is something I will never get over.
I'm lucky. I have other loved ones, other best friends to help with the burden. Luckily, some of them have expanded in size in my heart, somehow filling that hole a little. Its amasing how that can happen. I never figured I could love Heather any more than I already did, but somehow I do. I consistently feel humbled by her strength as she maneuvers the often heartbreaking ordeal of the estate and of our family's betrayals. She is so heartbreakingly honest with me on so many issues that I can only try to do the same. I can't even say that she's my rock, really. She's more than that. She taught me what family really is. They say blood is thicker than water, but with the halflings I almost gave up on the idea of family. Heather taught me that family has nothing to do with circumstances of birth. I was lucky to have actually been born with the same blood as the person I chose to have as my sister.
My friends have taken up mantles I never expected of them, giving me advice, holding my hand, or just making me laugh. I feel honoured and blessed to have them. I haven't been entirely present for my friends, not in a long time. I'm trying to change that. I want help, if you can. If you've held back contacting me because I wasn't able to be there for you previously, please, try again. I am somewhat unwilling to make the first overture, unsure of how much my inability to communicate has damaged a friendship irrevocably. I'm not saying there will be instant change. I'm trying to determine how much I have left of myself. How much I can genuinely give to my friends as a whole, and as individuals. There's a balancing act that I'm trying to learn, how much do I keep for myself to keep myself sane... but without losing the people who make sanity worth it. I beg your indulgence.
With everything that happened with Russ, I feel pretty shaken on my foundations. When I broke up with them in the first place, I was really messed up. I had lost my mother not even a year prior, and had limited 'pillars' of support. I had many friends, but not many that I felt comfortable leaning on. That is one of my failings. I have a hard time asking for help.
I don't think I knew how fragile I was, going into that relationship. In hindsight, I wonder what the hell THEY were thinking, no less what I was. Realistically, I shouldn't even have THOUGHT about a relationship for longer than I was with them. Really people: my mum had just died, my boyfriend had betrayed me with two of my friends (among others), Red and I were not talking, I was in my last year of school---which I was only determined to finish because thats what my dead parents would have wanted---, my family was turning into a raging monstrocity, plus the PLETHORA of relationship deficiencies coming from the boyfriend before Jeff (five years before Jeff, yea. That was how long it took for me to get over THAT mess. Did I mention I left the province to get away from him?) who was an abusive asshole.
What the hell were we thinking? OF COURSE thats a recipe for disaster. Theoretically, even if we were to have tried it on a 'casual basis I hadn't loved them (which I did and still do. The one and only time I've ever broken up with someone whilst still loving them).... I was in no headspace to take care of MYSELF. Frankly, I'm surprised I surived without a trip to the psych ward. No joke. In the end, it wasn't really anything THEY did to warrant me breaking up. They were perfect. Just not for me. I don't regret dating them, not for a second. They healed a lot of wounds I didn't even realise I had. In the end, we wanted different things. I didn't know I wanted those things until they taught me.
One of the reasons I felt distressed at breaking up with M and R was because in any other situation, they would have been the people I would have gone to for support. Without that, I had to redistribute my emotional weight onto other support pillars. I think in doing so, and in a need for my own space, I hurt a lot of people. I have a hard time owning up to my mistakes. In some ways, I've equated apologies to excuses in my head. I've done what I did for a reason (erroneous or otherwise) and making an excuse is the worst kind of reparation you can do. I can logically understand that an apology is not only a kindness, sometimes its a necessity and its unfair of me to withhold that---for my own pride? I'm not sure. There are plenty of people out there who deserve an apology from me, M and R being two of them.
Still, it takes two to tango and there are some major hurt feelings on my side as well. I'm still grappling with that. Perhaps Russ and I will never talk again (and that breaks my heart), perhaps we'll work through this and be stronger friends. I am frustrated with myself in how long its taking to come to terms with what he said. I think that with all the putting off of my feelings regarding mum and dad, the general loneliness of being single, losing a good number of friends in a very short period of time, Russ' comments.... I'm being hit from far too many sides.
As you know, I've lost friends before. Stephanie walked away and I still don't know why. People drift away. Sometimes they come back, some times not. This is hard, it hurts in a physical way. I feel like I've lost a little bit of who I am. I am not sure I can forgive that. He told me once that he would always be there for me. I believed him. His behaviour feels like a betrayal. Not necessarily fair of me, but thats how it feels.
Still. I survived worse. Life goes on, sorrow fades. I know this. Doesn't make it easier to wade through the marshes though.
Regardless of this, I AM doing better than my last few posts. I'm slowly pin pointing my issues, narrowing my focus (and prioritizing what to work on) and regaining my balance on something resembling firm ground. I don't feel like I'm surrounded by quicksand and one false move will drown me.
I'm filling the holes with people who understand me. Not all of them are people I expected. There are new holes that need to be filled in, and its never going to be a perfect match. Still, its not like I can tear it all down and start from scratch(perhaps to say, I'm unwilling to do so and lose the precious framing already in place). At least I'm not doing the typical college dorm quick fix any more and filling in the holes with toothpaste and gum. To continue the bad construction metaphor, I'm using quality materials and taking the time to sand off the rough edges. I'm lucky. I was given a fantastic foundation from the love and support from my parents and soul sister.
Eventually, maybe it'll look like new, and I can give it a coating of paint and feel proud of the walls of my heart. The space might not be the most organized, or the cleanest. The windows are going to be the wrong sizes--some might be too big, or with no screen to stop the flies from getting in... some might be too small, the curtains too heavy, not letting light in. The doors will be put in crooked and sometimes they'll stick. The bathtub tap will leak, and at the same time the drain will get clogged with deleterious emotional garbage, flooding the bathroom every once in a while. The dishes are never done when they should be, because I keep putting them off--just like my emotional problems.
But I'm hoping it'll be cluttered with a lot of pictures of people I love, comfy furniture that will welcome people to stay for a long time and warmth to help me last through the inevitable cold winters. There are dishes enough for a dinner party of 30, even if there isn't enough seats. There's plenty of bedding for those who want to stay longer.
And that will just have to be enough.