Black Friday

I’m in a weird position, torn between wanting to see a friend, comfort her maybe, just be with her certainly, gauge how she’s doing, and being seriously afraid of her sister.

I’m talking restraining-order afraid.

“But it’s all good! She wants to apologize, that’s what sisters do. We’re all sisters. You should come to lunch with us.”

Now, I’d like to think I’m a forgiving kind of gal, but I’m still struggling with the notion of being able to accept a face-to-face apology from the woman who tried to break in a door to get to me.

Since recurring depression is something I myself struggle with, I try to be as understanding as I can of others. It’s a matter of wiring, it’s a matter of bits and pieces of brain matter being scrambled around, synaspes and neurons not firing, whatever.

But there is illness, and then there’s illness.

And then there is a paranoid schizophrenic who refuses to be medicated.

So I’m stuck. Haven’t seen my friend in weeks. Certainly haven’t seen her since her husband died.

They’re shopping, doing Black Friday as grief therapy. I can dig that.

But I can’t do lunch. So I’m blogging rather than sleeping, rather than writing a paper.

Rather than eating lunch.

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