I knew 2008 would be a year of loss. Of “positive” loss, I thought.
I just didn’t know it would be this sort of loss, or of this magnitude.
They say you find out who your friends are when times are bad, not good.
When I hit bottom on Wednesday, and I was at my absolute worst, I was lectured by a Carpe Diem girl. While I cried (and, oh, did I cry, knowing the whole time that one cigarette of hers — which she had been smoking around me — would have made it better), she lectured me on what a shitty person I am.
She then left me stranded: all of my stuff’s in bags and boxes and my rooms are filled with organizational stuff that I have no idea how to implement. I can’t find my socks. I can’t find my school supplies.
Hell, I can’t even find my brain right now.
Three days later, she spends almost an hour on the phone telling me, again, what a shitty person I am to her personally. How my rudeness was something she couldn’t tolerate, and she refused to. She spent 56 minutes and 06 seconds telling me, without cursing, how she couldn’t deal with drama, and again, what a shitty person I am.
Now, I’m all about people setting limits. That’s all well and good, really.
But the bottom line is that, in the worst moments of withdrawal, my body and brain in revolt and the rest of me emotionally needy, she played judge, jury, and executioner to my character.
Two or so years of friendship forgotten based on one day of nicotine withdrawal. I have seen her at close to, if not her worst: before O died, and after. I have never once judged her methods of coping, although I have made suggestions. I was worried about the anti-depressants and other drugs, and I told her so. But I never, ever, ever told her what a crappy person she was for relying on them or for expressing rage or sorrow.
Acceptance and compassion are paramount to me in a friendship. If one is missing, or both, then there is no friendship.
A buddy-ship, maybe. An acquaintanceship, perhaps.
But not a friendship.
And I truly, truly believe that everything happens for a reason.
And I feel guilty, horribly guilty. She’s grieving. I know she’s grieving.
But I also showed her, outside of the nicotine withdrawal, who I am at my most open and raw and she lectured me and left me out to dry. I explained exactly what her presence in my home meant to me. I explained exactly what her being there right there, meant to me, as I was feeling completely ripped apart.
And she lectured me. And she judged me. And then she left me.
And that’s something I just can’t forget.