I wanted tonight to be a celebration– a farewell of sorts and a send off. I scheduled it, which I don’t really do, I spent over an hour in their kitchen, I made the night happen.
But instead, it felt like a goodbye. It felt like the end of a friendship, the last strands of love and care fading slowly into nothingness.
They had made me feel special. They had embraced my imperfection and celebrated my weirdness. And now? Now it just feels like the end– my final attempts to stoke the embers of a dying friendship.
I went from being special– selected, featured, important– to being a side friend, a blur on the periphery. What happened? What did I do? What did they?
I’m scared because I’ve lost R before. I’ve lost her in the summer melee of options and boys and popularity. Perhaps I never really had her in the first place. Perhaps I never really ha anything, but I was there, an I filled a space, and now they no longer need the odd, difficult, sensitive, passionate, place I once inhabited.
Do they not see how they hurt me? Do they not care? I don’t expect anyone to read my mind… But somehow I expect the group of people I considered my closest friends, my collaborators, my secret-keepers, to understand how I need care, that I only want consistency and friendship and the stability of a peer group that genuinely cares about me.
Or even worse. That they know and are just beyond caring.
And I’m scared. I know, I know, I know I’ll be fine. But I’m scared. And I want them to know but I don’t know where to begin in telling them. The last thing I want is to make everything about me (that surely doesn’t attract friends), but I need support. I need a hug. I need someone to say, “I’ll come when you need me. I am here for you. No matter what.”
And I don’t have that. Somehow, in the last four months, I lost my confidantes.
And the confidante I just was finding got cancer and needed more support than I did.
Perhaps we’re all only capable of so much compassion. Perhaps we become exhausted by our own struggles and our own transitional moments. Perhaps the strength of spirit and willingness to sacrifice for another’s well being all got used up by L and her struggle. Cancer is more life threatening than neurosis.
I have days where I feel like the luckiest college graduate– where I can see my life and appreciate the lengths I’ve come. But when I sit, and feel, and cry like a child on the uptown 3 after what was supposed to be my party and no one cared… A part of me feels like a selfish bitch for wanting more… And a part of me feels like a little girl who suddenly feels like a piece out of place in a puzzle that has intimidated her from the start of the game.
How do you heal from loneliness? How do you rebuild from a loss that only YOU felt, and that you are alone in feeling? How do you find, and nourish, and cultivate a small bud of self-worth when suddenly you find yourself on the edge of what you once knew and on the precipice of something that is dangerous and scary? How do I feel that inner B that my therapist talks about grow and fill my body– not be hurt, not withdraw, but accept and smile and continue walking forward? When the people who I thought gave me the freedom to flail and flop and fall and fall are gone, who can I turn to? I have gotten so used to being loved, to falling back on this group of confidantes as proof that I’m loveable… How else can I rise up out of myself and experience the world genuinely, not through the dim fog of my own brain, my own struggles, and realize I’m worth something?
I’m so scared (I mean, of everything, but also) that I will relive my Williamstown summer . And a fucked up part of me is like, PLEASE stop eating again because you’re far and worthless and nobody loves you, and that little scared passionate determined part has lost her perspective and feels all summer as though she’s totally alone and spinning her wheels to be good, to be great, to be loved, and she only ended up spinning herself deep into the ground.