I Felt It The Moment It Happened

It's rare for me to lose a friend.

I have some people I consider dear friends that I haven't seen for years and years. Some that I haven't necessarily spoken to or emailed in forever, other than a Christmas or birthday card during the year. But friendships, for me, are something tidal; in flux, rather than something that ends. Sometimes certain people slip away for a while, but I always know they're there. So it was shocking to me when a friendship I thought was a lifer imploded spectacularly a few years ago.

I'd invited my closest friends to get together for my birthday. Always an awkward thing for me, to celebrate myself, and I was uncomfortable, not wanting anyone to feel left out by hearing about the dinner second hand. So I sent out emails, including a couple of couples that were close to these friends of mine just so no one would feel I'd been rude or unkind.

Almost everyone was able to come (except for my very pregnant friend and another who couldn't find someone to babysit) and I'd guessed that this particular friend and his wife would probably not both be able to make it as they had a new baby, so I was pleased when his wife showed up, it meant she was getting a good evening away from being a Mommy even though it would have been great to see both of them.

We had a yummy dinner and a nice night and some great stories were told and it was a very memorable birthday celebration for me all told. I was pleased I'd taken the risk to ask people to come, it was kind of a big deal for me.

It was a shock to me therefore to get a text later that evening from the wife telling me that her husband was disappointed that there were couples and husbands there. He'd assumed it was a "girl's only" evening.

I apologized as profusely as one can via text at 12:30 am, but I felt horrible and guilty (as is my way) so I sent him an email apologizing for the misunderstanding. I felt awful, and it put a huge damper on my birthday evening.

I got an odd, angry, terse email from him the next day and when I responded, he told me if I wanted to clear up the "misunderstanding" (he put it in quotes...my first indication that we were on very different pages) I had to talk to him in person.

So I did. I drove over, mightily confused and wanting to assure him that I hadn't *not* invited him as he was assuming, but that I had wanted both of them to be there.

But he wasn't listening. He went off as they say, and I stood at his door, mouth agape. He tore a strip off of me for being "embarrassed" to have him as a friend and how I'd "purposely" only sent the invitation to his wife whereas I'd "obviously" sent it out to other men and husbands.

I was stunned. Dumbfounded. Shocked.

I held myself together and calmly told him that I understood that he was upset but that he was wrong and that this was all a big misunderstanding.

He wasn't listening and he didn't believe a word I was saying.

I don't remember most of what he said, but one phrase has stuck in my mind.

"If you'd only just stop caring what people thought of you, you would have invited me and not cared what anyone else would have thought of me." He yelled.

And that's when it hit me.

He was right. I needed to stop caring what he thought of me.

He was treating me horribly, not listening to my side of the very simple story and had said very hurtful things. This wasn't how a friend treats a friend and I needed to stop caring.

I told him once again that I was sorry. That I heard where he was coming from and could see why he was hurt. But that he'd misunderstood.

I felt the friendship end in that moment, certainly from my side.

Sometimes the damage done is irreparable.

"Aren't you coming in?" he said, obviously calmer now he'd had his say and told me what was what.

"No." And I left.

And although I tried to continue a friendship with his wife, it wasn't sustainable and the three of us aren't in a friendship anymore. Which, sometimes makes me sad and sometimes makes me angry. I'm not yet at a point where I see it in a positive light. It was all so extraordinarily hurtful and wrong and ugly. Even just writing about it again has gotten me riled up and hurting all over again.

I can probably make a list of the times I've felt a relationship break. And it's never pretty. And only sometimes is it worth slapping a band aid on and working to fix the break. When the hurtful thing said to me is too large? I can't. But sometimes I do, sometimes it's only a flesh wound.

This wasn't one of those times and at the time, it was one of the hardest things I'd ever gone through. But as they say, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger and the whole thing certainly did. I'd rather it had never happened, to be honest, but it did, and I made it through.

What I wonder, though, sometimes, is about the moments in a romantic relationship where I feel that same break? But keep on going, pushing through, hoping for the best. It hasn't served me well in those cases. Would I have kept on trying to make things work with this friend if we'd been romantic partners? I like to think not. But I wonder. And why would sleeping with someone make me think it's ok for them to treat me poorly?

In Which A Dishwasher Becomes Allegorical

(No, seriously.)

So when they kicked us all out of our building back in August they told us that part of the extensive renos they'd be gutting the kitchen and because of that, they'd be putting in new everything, including a dishwasher.

Now I don't know how it is where you live, but here, apartments (especially the older ones, which most of them are) don't have dishwashers. So those of us who were returning to the building were all pretty excited at this addition. I haven't had a dishwasher since I moved out of my parent's place (except for when I lived with what's his name in the house we were going to live in once we got married and oh, right, that's not this story) and haven't really missed having one. Can't miss what you don't have and all that?

So as long as I've lived on my own, I've washed my dishes by hand. When I stayed with my parents for those few months while we had to be out of the building, I kind of found it hilarious just how clean my mugs got in their dishwasher. (Yes I brought my own, favourite mugs with me when I stayed there. Things just taste better out of my mugs!) And I looked forward to seeing just how clean things would be once I had my own dishwasher in my sparklingly new kitchen.

But, of course, as these things go (or so I've been told), construction doesn't ever (?) go as smoothly as planned and we were told, when we moved back in, that there was a holdup with the dishwashers.

Insert very intelligent information here about how the water system in this old building wouldn't handle the new load from the dishwashers which meant new...er.... bigger? water mains and that, apparently, had to go through the city/municipality, which meant we had to wait.

I was only a little grumbly about this, as the empty dishwasher hole was a great place to put my recycling boxes. A few of my friends (and my folks) thought we should get a reduced rent for not having a promised appliance, but it wasn't worth it to me to go down that route, so I waited.

They told us it'd probably be January, but that didn't happen, and then February came and went and my recycling bins sat happily in their spot.

What *did* happen near the end of February is that the city came and started digging up lawns and sidewalks and all sorts of exciting things. And that went on for a good three or four weeks.

Fast forward (or reverse really, if you want to be chronologically accurate to today's date) to last week when we were gleefully informed (ok, we were just informed, but I was pretty gleeful about it) that our dishwashers were arriving and ready to be installed. TA DA! I was so excited I told everybody. The dishwashers are coming, the dishwashers are coming! My friend in the building and I practically jumped up and joy with glee at the prospect. (Ok, I may have actually jumped a little.)

So the plumber guy came by to install the dishwasher last weekend, and I was here, awkwardly turning down the volume on my newest addiction, but then feeling even more awkward that there was no, like noise to distract him from the fact that I was ten feet away in another room, to hear him mumbling away.

Meanwhile, I'd sent excited texts and emails to my parents and friends. "It's HERE! My DISHWASHER!!!!!!!! I can have clean dishes! YAY!" My Dad emailed back, asking if they could bring a load of dirty dishes by. I giggled; it was the exact joke I'd expected to hear. My friends were excited for me, most of them having lived in older suites or basement suites at one point, and knowing how rare it is to have a dishwasher in an apartment.

After the plumber's second trip to the circuit box, I asked him if everything was ok.

Um. No.

Turns out that while the electrical was all technically hooked up, it wasn't actually working. And while no one really knew why, they figured it was some kind of safety precaution the electricians had taken.

So after a few phone calls, buddy installed the dishwasher and hooked it up, promising me that once the electrician came by, it would work perfectly.

I emailed back my parents. "Sorry, you can't bring your dishes by today, the thing doesn't have electricity!"

"Well", said my Dad, "At least you have a new cupboard!" (My Dad's awesome. I laughed. He rules.)

We got an apology email from the building, saying that the dishwasher saga would soon come to an end once the electrician got in to fix whatever wiring needed fixed in the suites.

But, of course, sagas rarely end smoothly, and the poor electrician had to do some fiddling to get the electrical box off the wall where it'd been painted over (guffaw!) but then lickety split and a twist here and there and I had a fully functioning dishwasher.

And here's the thing. Do I love it? Yes. Are my dishes amazingly, spectacularly clean? Yes. But do I need it? Can't live without it? How did I ever cope before? Would I die if they took it away? No. No, no, and no.

So it didn't bother me that it wasn't ready to go on that first day. I found it rather amusing. Perhaps I was the tiniest bit upset, having planned out how I'd load it full of my tea-stained mugs and see them glistening by eventide, but it made me realize, when you don't need something and it's just a nice surprise that you're not really all that invested in and have gotten along just fine without, it's not a problem when things don't go perfectly.

I'd never had a dishwasher in this apartment, so I didn't notice the extra months of hand washing particularly. And the debacle of the installation? *shrug* Just kind of gave me something else to look forward to. I'd lived just fine without the thing, so it wasn't upsetting that I couldn't have it right that first moment.

Which is where the whole allegory thing came to me.

I don't need certain things in my life. Like a dishwasher, or an expensive convertible sports car. So it doesn't bother me that I don't have them.

But there are certain things in my life that I don't need.... but I still want. Like a boyfriend. And that's where I'm getting stuck and upset and hurt and disappointed. And bothered.







(Which makes it ultra ironic that when I was chatting to a friend's Dad the other day and I mentioned that I'd "gotten a dishwasher" he, with a twinkle in his eye, said "Oh, you're dating?"

Heh.

I wish.)

Randomly

Sometimes there are stories or thoughts in my head that want to come out, but the idea of sitting and typing/writing them out seems somehow overwhelming so I put it off and put it off.

Kind of similarly, I know how much better I'll feel mentally and physically after I go to the gym but the idea of going and having to do all that work seems overwhelming so I sometimes put it off.

There's often a lot of back and forth "talking" that goes on in my brain. "I should go to the gym." "But I don't want to." "But I'll feel better after." "But I feel fine now." "But I haven't gone in a few days." "But I want to watch just one more episode and it's so comfy lying on the couch." "But I only have so much time." "But really is it worth the effort when it'll probably be busy right now." And usually after a few days of the lazier of the two voices winning on whatever argument I'm having with myself, I get annoyed or frustrated or extra blah and I do something about whatever it is I wanted/didn't want to do.

Like, really, this post. This is a perfectly nonsensical and unnecessary post but it's gotten me back in the mojo or flow or whatever it is that I didn't have over the last few days when those stories and thoughts were just sitting there in my head knocking at the walls trying to get told. Imma trying to say something here, I gots me some stories to tell, but I'm a little bit busy having what appears to be a civil argument with myself. In my brain. About a lot of things.

How was your weekend?

Growing, I Suppose

I'm going through something right now.

I decided/recognized this yesterday after yet another weird week of feeling....off about a lot of things.

It's one of those "times of transformation" sort of deals where there's a lot of figuring out of things that, while not exactly pain free, aren't necessarily bad things to figure out.

Things about me, I guess, and how I feel about me and things I do and don't do and maybe want to do or am afraid to do and how I feel about myself and other people and who other people are and show themselves to be and what it all means.

Caterpillar cocoon butterfly sort of thing except I'm not sure this is the struggle that takes me quite to butterfly yet. Or maybe it will be and I just won't know because there's still the drying of wings that has to happen when you break out of those suckers.

And plus, it's not like a butterfly's life is going to be nothing but air...to steal a sports metaphor.

So anyway, whatever it is that's going on is going on and ongoing and I'm just here trying to not avoid it too much. Or at all, if possible.

It's weird being me.

And happy St Paddy's Day while we're at it.

In Which I Refer To The Weather

The weather this week has been very . . . March-like.

And for anyone who's spent an early Spring around these here parts, you know what I mean.

I don't know about you, but I grew up with a nursery rhyme type thing where April showers brought May flowers and the only other line I remember is "March comes in like a lion and out like a lamb."

Well, this March has come in more like a crazy person who is making the choice not to take their meds for a while.

This week alone, we've had snow, POURING rain, freezing coldness, crazy wind (power outage crazy), gigantically sunny blue skies, hail, and almost everything in-between. (If there's anything left to be in-between.)

But March weather just makes me smile. It's a constant mystery as to what's going to turn up in the next hour or two, never mind what tomorrow's going to bring.

So, yeah. This March is being very lion like right now. (Or crazy person like.)

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm just going to go turn up the heating a bit. In March.

Go figure.

DST Can Bite Me

Yup, the time change got to me.

Oh, I did fine the first couple of days; getting up "early" on Sunday and being all proud of myself because it was actually really early because 8am was really 7am and look at me, I'm going to beat this thing!

But by Tuesday, I was all confused. I was super tired when I attempted to get up at the supposedly regular but not really regular time, and I wasn't hungry by lunch even though I'd been starving by eleven the day before. And then suddenly it was 7:30pm and I hadn't had dinner yet and then I was trying to fall asleep at 11:30 but my legs wouldn't relax and it took me a while to turn over and then it's dark again in the mornings and man oh man, does anyone make it through the time change unscathed?

From what I can tell, none of us like it, and none of us particularly want it (except perhaps when it's late in the evening and the sky's not quite completely dark) and I don't know why we keep doing it and seriously, it's an entire hour's difference. It's jet lag without the added fun of a vacation!

So here's to feeling hungover all week while still being unable to get the time straight and waiting for our bodies to adjust to how things are going to be for the next few months before we do this all over again and I start complaining about how short the days are.

Ugh.

This Is Either Me Growing Up, Or Becoming More Jaded

But this friend of my friend that I'm going to meet (or the next guy, for that matter) isn't going to be perfect.

He isn't going to be all the things I dream of, secretly and outloud, in a boyfriend/potential husband.

He can't possibly be the exact combination of things I imagine my guy being and so I'm trying not to be disappointed by that before even meeting him. Or someone.

If I had to, I could probably write a list a mile long of the traits I'd like in my future life partner type fellow, but I think I've either lost or given up the idea that that list is actually fair or can be matched to a real, life, not made for tv person.

This guy can't possibly be perfect, and I think it's the first time I've known that *before* meeting someone, and I'm not sure what that sets me up for.

This Video Made My Weekend

Boing Boing*

I got all excited on Saturday when I remembered that this was the "Spring Forward" time change weekend. My evenings would start being even longer, with even more light than they've already gotten, hurrah!

But then my alarm went off Sunday morning (don't ask) and I remembered the down side to this time change... the mornings get darker again, and are suddenly much much earlier than they need to be.

Meaning, this morning, I'll have to be out of bed at what will feel like 6 instead of what should feel like 7.

I managed to get myself hungry in time for a pretty close to on time dinner Sunday night but then was still hungry for the rest of the evening so somehow that backfired on me.

But, yeah. Time change. I forgot this was the one where you lose an hour's sleep.

And I miss it already.




*It's the noise a spring makes, of course.

Rough

So, yeah. Rough week.

Rough couple of weeks actually.

I'm emotionally exhausted and it's taking its toll on me mentally, physically, and (well, duh) emotionally. (Thanks for that one brain.)

I wish I was getting on a plane today and flying off to somewhere warm and beach-y like a couple of my friends are. I relish the idea of sitting on a lounger sipping a drink and reading a book while contemplating the next time I should go jump in the waves or walk along the beach.

I can't even talk about it and I certainly can't control or fix it and I just wish it would all go away, all of it all of it all off it now.

I hope things will settle soon and I am doing the best I can to take care of myself, but man oh man, some time away from everything would go down really well right now.

Ouch

When someone says (or does, but more often says) something that hurts my feelings, my instinct is to pull away or to put another brick up in the wall between us.

I had a counsellor once who told me that I should respond in these situations with an "Ouch!" to let the person know they'd hurt me (because I am useless at actually telling someone what they've said hurt my feelings) but I can't bring myself to do that either.

"Ouch, that hurt."

I mean, it seems like a simple enough thing to say, but I always figure that the person's either going to say they didn't mean it to and that I should stop overreacting and then I end up looking like an idiot or they're not going to care and then I end up being even more hurt. So I don't say anything. Because maybe I'm overreacting and they probably don't care anyway.

I feel a lot, lately, that I should stop trying to be close with people and should maintain the safe distance I have with most of the relationships in my life. It doesn't stop the hurts completely, but it makes the sting somewhat less painful if you haven't let the person close.

I don't really know what this says about me... is it a trust issue? A low self-esteem issue? What is it I'm protecting myself from, and why is it so painful?

I don't know if I should even try to change or just accept that this is how I am and keep a strong safe zone around myself and my heart.

I don't know. . . and I'm scared to death to even try to let anyone else in ever again.








So, yeah, it's been a rough week....can you tell?

Stuck In The Middle

I've been thinking more about the "age" portion of yesterday's post. I can understand where most of the looks negativity is coming from, but I wasn't sure why the "being older" thing was getting to me so much.

One thing I realized is that I don't really spend time with anyone my age. I moved away from my home town, so my high school friends aren't here. But even more than that, at my spy workplace, there's no one my age. And I only just realized it.

The people I work with are either five or six years younger than me, or ten to twenty or more years older than me, so I'm surrounded by people who are either older than me (and I don't really have much in common with and don't see them as my peer group) or by people who I get along with and have fun with, but who are younger than me. So I end up feeling old. Or at least, older.

And it doesn't help that all these younger co-workers are all going through things I'm not. They're getting engaged, married, having their first child. And so I look at them and wonder how I'm older than them and haven't had any of these experiences.

I hadn't really thought through it 'til I wrote yesterday's post and wondered about the question "when did I get so ageist?"

I guess, when I ended up being the only person my age at my work and felt like I wasn't anywhere, I wasn't established in a family like the older crowd, or beginning a committed relationship like the younger crowd.

It's like no matter where I look, I'm wrong. And it does kind of rub my age in my face to watch people half a decade younger than me go through all the things I thought I'd have gone through half a decade ago.

All I can hope now is that being aware of it will make it hurt less.

Right?

P.Y.T. (This Post Has No Promises Of Making Sense)

When I'm hovering in my zones where things are a little gloomier than usual, a thought that keeps occurring to me is that I'm not young and pretty anymore.

Because I'm not. As young as I once was. Or as pretty as I once must have been.

And I know it's all relative, but I've said it here before I'm sure...I feel like I missed out.

I probably knew I was young when I was, but it didn't mean much. But I certainly didn't think I was pretty. And now I look at myself and think that I was prettier then.

I can pick apart the "aging" signs I see in the mirror. I can look at younger guys and the girls they go for and I can see what they have that I don't have anymore. And won't again. And I know if I don't wrap my head around this and somehow learn to be ok with it, I'm up against a world of hurt for the rest of my life.

But it's hard when you see things that weren't there and that you don't find particularly attractive and you feel like if you'd only used your youth when you had it maybe you'd already have a perfect man who'd love you.

I'm almost embarrassed that someone's going to meet me and have to find me attractive when I'm not how I used to be. And I feel like they're only going to see me getting older and less attractive (wrinkles, sagging....body parts, grey hair, weight gain, aches and pains, UGH I don't want to age)

I'm not young and pretty any more. But I suppose I have to learn to see myself as pretty for my age. Or maybe even just pretty? I think it might help if I *was* in a relationship, because that would be someone telling me the things they find attractive about me and it's been a (far too) long time since I've had that and felt attractive. Because sure, there are days when I see myself and I think "damn, I'm hot" and others when it's not so much that way, but insert quote here about beauty being skin deep and something about people being attractive for who they are not how they look and I'm supposed to feel all better about myself.

But I still get bummed out when I think about the fact that I'm not as young as I used to be and that I don't look as young as I used to either.

When did I get to be so ageist?

Sigh.

Let me break it down here: I feel old and fat and ugly. I understand, logically, that none of these things are particularly true, and that compared to some I may be some of these things, but compared to others I am none of them, but I still feel that I am. And it's not a fun way to feel. Looking in the mirror doesn't help. The extra pounds I'm carrying don't help. The minute changes I see in my face don't help. I'm struggling with my age and my physical appearance. And it sucks.

And I know it shouldn't. But it still does.

The end.

It's Gonna Be A Bright, Bright, Sunshiny Day*

I don't think I ever told you, but I got contacts.

I don't really use them, mind you, but I got them nonetheless.

It happened back when I was running a lot and happened to have had an eye appointment and it was really annoying me to have to wear my glasses while running (I don't see distance well and I see less well in the dusk/dark and it's important to be able to see where you're going when you're running and plus I like to see) and so I talked to the optometrist and we decided to try contacts.

He told me that some people wear them every day, or some people just wear them for certain occasions/reasons.

I already figured that since I don't wear my glasses all day (just for driving after dusk or if going somewhere I need to see distances (concert, etc.) I wouldn't wear contacts all day either, but it's pretty cool having them in. (on?)

I won't go into the gong show that is me getting into the habit of putting the lenses in. I out-think myself every time and since I don't wear them often enough to get better at the whole process, it tends to leave me sore and red-eyed and watery, so don't use me as your example of how to put in contacts quite yet.

But when I do put my contacts in, it's the weirdest thing to be able to see everything clearly, without edges or areas of blur.

It's still weird on my brain though, because when I have my glasses on, I can still "extra squint" and improve my vision even more, but it doesn't seem to work with my contacts.

I've stopped running now (physio's order) so I haven't had a reason to use my contacts since C-Dawg and I went to Beer Fest (and I wanted to see all the cute guys from afar.)

So, yeah. There's no real point to this post other than to say I have contacts, I don't wear them much, but they're pretty cool. (And I'm still not used to putting them in and maybe never will be at this rate?)


*Get it?

Duh Duh Duh Duuuh Duuuuh DUUUUUUUUUUUUH!

I went to Vancouver this weekend and got to see a Canucks game and be *with* the crowd as our boys did their best to even up the game. (And man oh man is it ever an amazing feeling to yell and cheer right along with thousands and thousands of others when your team gets a goal. Electrifying only begins to describe it!)

I had such a blast and it was such a treat, really.

And now I'm going to wish I could sleep all day today to rest from all the excitement!

And yes, I know that only some of you who read this will understand the title... eh?