I have a friend. She lives far, far away from me, but we stay in touch with messages back and forth via our computers. Over the past couple of months, or so, she has become increasingly distraught. Our conversations are full of her struggles and frustration with some health issues and she has always make joking comments about her feelings and her efforts to find some resolution, but sometime around the middle of the month she started joking about stabbing herself with a fork, which did not toss up any flags or anything because of that whole stab-me-with-a-fork joke-y thing that people say.
Then, within the span of a week, she, twice, said something about guns and bullets. Which she later modified with saying that it was just a joke. Both times, but the lag bothered me.
She mentioned and waffled about talking to someone, like a professional, and not just me. If she has been sharing any of this with anyone else, I do not know about it. Then, it began to sound a little scary and I asked her exactly what her feelings were and when she replied back, we began to discuss local resources for her. Just in case her feelings and situation continued to worsen.
And, they did, so together we found some resources for her.
Then, she recanted all of things she had shared. She is not saying what happened, or did not happen, but I have known her long enough to make an educated guess. And, that is one of the things that friends do for one another. They listen. Then they listen some more and if a time comes when they are asked for help, they help. Then when whatever crisis or circumstance there was changes or is no longer there, they just let it go.
But, what a friend cannot do is to stop worrying. Or caring, or being ready for the next thing. I can do it for her because some of my other friends do it for me. Either side of that equation is exhausting, that is for certain. Whilst I have worries enough of my own, I still worry about her.
So, then I have this thing of my own. I have this close and personal relationship that is not so close any more, but it continues to drag its sorry ass around as though there was some kind of a future in there someplace. At least on my end, and how fucking pathetic is that. Anyway, it has been quiet here for some weeks now and I thought that we were re-entering a calm period. And, let me just say that if this relationship does end, my hope is that we will find a way to be friends for our own sakes, but also for the sake of other family members who should not be put in the middle of dysfunction that is not of their own making.
Early this morning the doorbell rang, and dutiful, little relationship-member that I am, I answered to find a strange man waiting on the porch. He had a big smile and said that he knew that he was a little early, but that he was sure that A would not mind. So, A comes barreling down the stairs, demanding to know who is at the door and I told A that I did not know. He metaphorically shoulders me out of the way and says to the stranger something about being ready in a minute, barrels back upstairs and down again and out the door. Slam. Vroom-vroom.
Six hours later A returns home with a huge bandage on his eye, and I know exactly what has happened. On four...count 'em...four fucking other occasions, this exact same, well, not really exact, but really, really similar thing happened, and all four of them were times when A had some health thing. Two were day surgeries and two required hospitalization.
Never a word to me beforehand. Not a single word to me when he came home today. The details of what he needed having done are not important, but I learned about the the two that involved staying in the hospital because both times I received a telephone call from his doctor(s) telling me what a sorry piece of crap I was for not being there when he needed me. Oh, sure, they said it much nicer than that, but it was the essence of the conversations. One of the times involved another scolding for being a bad, bad partner when I arrived at said hospital. I found out about the two day surgeries from one of his sisters, who called to find out how he was doing.
I am hurt all over again today, because, whilst I am not surprised, what kind of a person does this sort of thing? It is not like he feels as though he has to be the strong and silent type of guy, because if he was he would not be having me do all manner of health-related things for him at other times. When he had his knees replaced last year I spent every day at the hospital with him, even during the several weeks of rehabilitation. I created a bedroom for him on the ground floor, and did whatever he needed. I do not get it. I know that he is upset with me for one thing or another all the time, but this is different.
Is it about humiliating me? Is it about keeping his personal life a secret from me? That might be part of it because I have never known anything about who his friends are or where he goes or how long he will be gone. Or anything; but, you know, you get accustomed to that over the years and if he needs to keep all of that to himself, then that is just the way things are. For years I had a pager or cell phone so that he could find me whenever he wanted and that was fine. Now I have a desk-blotter calendar on which I write wherever I am going to be each day. That is fine, too.
But, you leave for the day, or you just leave the house and drive yourself to the hospital to have surgery and you do not tell your partner about it?
Today was like something new, even though it is the same old same old. Maybe it is related to all the things happening lately. Something has changed in the way I am accepting this today. What is wrong with me for that not to have been an issue for me?
These two things are related, I swear that they are. Solicitations for help are made and I respond. Then something changes and I find myself on the outside of the relationship, shut out and wondering what I did wrong. You know, the common denominator here is me. There must be something about me that is creating these situations. I know a gazillion people and am related to many of them, but these two people are the only ones with whom I have this insane kind of issue.
I admit to being a pacifist and I am always really and truly happy to help the people that are important to me, but I am not certain that I am comfortable being a doormat.
I am taking a few leaps ahead here, but the person who first said that thing about how money cannot buy you happiness and all the people who have agreed with that are wrong. Money can buy the peace of mind upon which happiness is formed. That is practically the same thing, so, dear kind and loving Universe, I am letting you know that I would not be averse to being gifted with a whole shitload of money so that I can fix a few things around here, and I am not shamed by how self-centered I am feeling. Just saying.
And, dear Universe, thanks for a safe place to be self-centered once in a while.
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