"You get what you pay for, but I just had no intention of living this way." -Counting Crows

Why We're Here...

My husband David and I delivered a stillborn Baby Boy that we loved, and wanted. Our first and only son, Logan, had Down Syndrome. Our daughter's smile is a little light in the darkness. She turned one year old three days after our sweet Logan tip-toed away on January 24, 2009. After 2 1/2 years we found out we were having another baby, whom we affectionatly called Rudy. Just shy of 6 weeks we found out Rudy was Ectopic. Rudy was surgically removed on May 26, 2011 delivering another blow to our already broken hearts.


Ok, so I feel like God, or the universe or whatever is telling me to deal with stuff lately. I run, I hide, I avoid conflict, confrontations, and uncomfortable situations at any and all costs. But today my friend of 22 years calls me...
"You're mad at me..."
(Me) "...Uh..." {Ah crap!!}
Anyhow, so we had to talk about it. I hate talking about it. I tried to be honest. What was the point of denying it? Apparently she knew. It's not that I was mad at her, I wasn't. I was more sad. Sad that our friendship had become what it was. Shallow. Vague. Barely, if at all. Angry at her past decisions; that I know don't have a thing to do with me, but that I can't deal with, that I can't understand. I didn't delve as deep as perhaps I should have, I just couldn't deal with more. And I know it was so hard for her to confront me. She's a lot like me. We avoid. I didn't tell her that I feel like I want more from the friendship than she does. That sometimes I feel like the obnoxious puppy who is begging for love and attention. I didn't tell her that she literally broke my heart last summer when she cancelled the much anticipated plans for her "real" visit, and for the first time ever...made me cry, and cry I did...a lot. I didn't tell her that I don't feel important to her since she rarely ever visits me (usually because she can't afford it, or the car, or her husband, or the kids, or, or, or...) but is coming for a convention this weekend...but then only staying the night. At least she is coming. I didn't tell her that I feel like I annoy her and embarrass her in front of her other friends. I didn't tell her that when we went to Indy I was miserable and felt so out of place amongst her and her other friends because she acted so phony, and I didn't know who that person was. I didn't tell her that she made me feel stupid and in the way that weekend. I didn't tell her that I was jealous of her attention to her other friends and how she seemed to want them to like her more than she wanted me to like her. I didn't tell her that I feel like an imposition on her life, an inconvenience. I didn't tell her that she gets lumped in with everyone else and the unloved feelings I have. I should have told her I suppose. But I guess deep down I know I'm probably not what or who she needs from me either. I wasn't there for her when she was clawing her way through her own darkness. I didn't get it. I couldn't relate. I didn't really even try. I have a lot of guilt over that, it makes me sad that we couldn't be there for each other. It makes me sad that there is such a shallow element to our very long friendship. I know she doesn't mean to hurt me. I know she would cry a thousand tears if she did know. But quiet honestly its like with everyone else in my life. I want them to want to love me on their own accord, I don't want to continually beg to be loved. Because then when it isn't given, even after you ask for it, well...that's just a little too much rejection. I can't handle anymore disappointments right now. And if I would have told her all of those things, and they didn't change, well...I would hurt more than I do now, and I just don't want any more sadness. I hate that we had to have a conversation at all. I wish we could have just gone on the way we were. I'm afraid this will be a weird thing between us now. I said things that needed to be said, things I'm sure she already thought...but they made me feel ugly. I wasn't mean, I was just trying to explain my self to her. I wasn't trying to point fingers or blame or make her feel like a piece of crap, but I'm sure it stung. I'm sure she cried this evening. I'm sure she has a mouthful of things she'd like to say to me. It makes me sad. People get so self involved with their own lives, often times they don't look to see what they're doing to others...whilst they are quick to point out what others are doing to them. I'm trying not to be like that. I'm trying to understand that where I am right now...it's an ugly spot, and no one wants to join me there. I can't expect her to join me here when I wasn't in her ugly spot with her. I just acted like it wasn't there. I didn't get it either. That makes me sad. I want a deep friendship. I want to know that when I need her she'll come running, with out me asking. I'd like to think I would do the same. I felt odd that she didn't come running when Logan died. I guess I expected her to just show up on my doorstep, and when she didn't...it hurt. But then, I didn't do that for her either. I want to feel comfortable crying in front of her, and want her to cry with me, and in front of me. I can count her tears, the serious ones, on one hand. Once when my brother broke her heart, once when I broke her heart, and today. 22 years. 3 tears. I think today was the first time I cried with her. That's sad. She should know me better than anyone. I should know her. But the last ten years... We barely know each other at all. I don't even know if we ever did. We know big ugly secrets. We know family and childhood drama. But I don't think we know each other very well at all anymore. That's sad. It makes me sad. And I think Logan's death just made it all that much more obvious to me. I shouldn't feel weird about telling her my heart is shattered since my son was stolen from me. I shouldn't, but I do. I hate being vulnerable. I've always been the strong friend. Or, at least I thought I was. I hate being heart broken, and I hate letting people know when they've broken it. I hate that much vulnerability. I should have told her all of these things. I should have, but I didn't.


Barbara said...

I've found that a few friends from before George have practically disappeared from sight but that one or two have become closer. And then there are the new friends around here who just get it...

At least she hasn't disappeared. At least she called.

I suppose you have to decide what you want from this friendship now, after Logan.

But don't forget you'll always have this place and us to listen when you need to talk.


Ter said...

you took words that I've been trying to say for years and wrote it in ways I could never articulate.

It's sad that friendships (and relationships on a whole, be it friends, family, spouses, coworkers, etc.) change after a loss.

"numb_was_better" said...

I think back to the person I was when we were in high school and I feel like I don't know that person. People change so much over the years. I think people want others to accept the way that they have changed but it's hard to accept change in the people around us. I think you too need to get to know each other again with a clean slate. I'm impressed you talk at all.

carla said...

I can relate to this big time! I have friends who have been friends forever but are just "there". We live in tandem. I crave a good, strong decent friendship with another woman. Why is that so hard for me? Why does it seem so easy for other women? Why is it that new friendships turn out like old friendships. Like I'm drawn to the same person in a different "wrap"... I'm sorry you are feeling isolated from L. (((hugs))) On this, like many other things, you are not alone!

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