Divorced from Reality

Divorced from reality. Normally I would use that phrase to describe myself, but something occurred recently in my life that helped me to change that perspective. She did something horrible to me. Intentionally cruel it would seem.

What do you mean you are not going to be home when I drop off the kids?
I have plans.
Where? With who?
None of your business.
C’mon, I’m your friend. Tell me. I don’t care if you’re having a relationship.
It’s none of your business.
I’m your friend, what’s the big deal?
You’re not my friend. You’re not my confidante or whatever. You’re NOTHING.

Utter speechlessness

I told her that was the most hurtful thing anyone had ever said to me. I told her that I considered her my closest friend. I asked for an apology and got nothing. I told her that regardless, I would always be there for her. I wrote her a long email blaming myself for bringing that behavior out in her. I didn’t tell her about the long handwritten letter I had composed last week after she told me I had a habit of always saying the wrong thing. I didn’t tell her that the letter praised her and thanked her for helping me get my life on the right track, to grow emotionally, and learn to cope with things properly. I also didn’t tell her that I shredded the letter and she will never see it. I also didn’t tell her I am still deeply in love with her, but she knows anyway. Finally, after two virtually sleepless nights I began to think. Until today I had given her a pass on the divorce. It had been my fault, my problem. I had caused it. But a new thought started to cross my mind. She was to blame as well. A friend said to me, that they all knew there was blame to be shared. I told him that unfortunately I had not been included in that group—until now.

She has issues. Physical issues and now it is evident to me, mental issues. She needs help. I told her that and received the exact response I anticipated. Utter silence, anger barely below the surface and subtle defensiveness. I told her that she had given me the same advice and that I had not wanted to hear it, but that it had also helped immensely. She said that she talks to her siblings and parents. I said she still needs to talk to a professional. She won’t until someone else tells her. She won’t listen to me. I am NOTHING, she told me so herself. I told her I was extremely worried about her, but I didn’t tell her how concerned I was about the children. Again she doesn’t want to hear that from someone she considers to be NOTHING. I told her she needs to let things out; to quit internalizing everything. She said that is just the way she is. I know that particular behavior is not healthy and that she needs to change for her own sake, but she doesn’t want to hear that from me because we all know what she thinks of me. I didn’t tell her that she is emotionally stunted and that trying to deal with her is like trying to deal with an adolescent. I didn’t ask her if she thought it was odd that her brother who is of very similar personality was going through a divorce as well. Somewhere inside she knows all of those things. I also didn’t tell her that her comments hurt me more than the divorce, literally broke anew my already shredded heart, but I hope that somewhere she knows that.

Yet, again I need to thank her. I am certain that her comment was not meant to have any positive affect on me, but it did. Thank you for helping to stop me from blaming myself. Through your actions you have allowed me to see the person that I never allowed myself to see. That person is me. A genuine, caring, compassionate, loving, human being, a human being who is in touch with his emotions and works to deal with them properly. Now I want her to join me because I miss her. I miss hearing her stupid laugh and I miss her meandering style of story telling. I miss her cooking. I miss her smell. I miss her hair clogging the shower drain. I miss her ratty-ass sweat pants and her curled form on the couch watching some mindless television program. I miss her character, her wit and her smile. Mainly though, I just miss her. Finally, I will send her this. I won’t just send a link to the blog, because she won’t visit. She won’t respond; she never does. Why would she when she can just stuff this somewhere deep inside her and let it fester until she explodes?