So, back in December, I was recovering from a flare up of what I think I’ll start calling my Issue With My Butthole. I was traveling with all kinds of pain killers, narcotic and non-, to allow me to remain semi-sane were this most excruciatingly painful Issue With My Butthole flare up again. I was in the midst of some significant lifestyle moderations in order to ensure that I gave myself the best possible chance of healing (no drinking is the big one). I was also dealing with a sinus infection compounded by various vicious allergens that saturate the air in my home state.
This is the situational frame in which I found myself during the time when my relationship with my former best friend exploded. It actually added to the pressure that caused the explosion to occur (because everything is about her. You cannot take any action without it being some comment on her life. This includes blowing your nose, because that is clearly you trying to say that her house is dirty, not that you have a sinus infection and allergies). At any rate, the point is that there were all kinds of crazy things going on in my attempt to keep myself as physically healthy as possible.
So when I woke up crying again this morning, I really started to think about the current frame of reference, and what I can do to keep myself mentally as healthy as possible. Because being here in this city, MY city, MY home, feels like shit. I cannot escape the ghost of this person who was the cause of the single most emotionally painful experience of my adult life. I go to MY coffee shop, and I am left to explain, yet again, that NO, I don’t know how L is doing. No, we aren’t talking anymore. No, I have no plans to reconcile. No, I don’t really want to talk about it, please-for-the-love-of-God-quit-asking-me.
But worse than the old acquaintances bringing it up, is sitting at a table with friends, feeling punched in the gut over and over again, and not being able to say a word, because you don’t want to be that person. You don’t want to be that manipulative jerk who makes people choose between friends, but you also don’t want to sit there and be reminded over and over again of the awfulness of the situation. You want to escape, but you don’t want to be that emotional fucktard who acts so ridiculously sensitively that people don’t want to be around you anymore (because then, frankly, you’d be acting just like L). There’s just no winning solution. You either act like a jerk and tell your friends to cut it the fuck out, to quit talking about this person who you know to be an awful excuse for a human being, who treated you like a fucking piece of shit for years and years and years, or you just feel waves of nausea as they reminisce about how fun it is to play cards with her, how they want to reconnect with her.
And so you just sit and keep your mouth shut, and think about ways to avoid being in that situation ever again, ways to avoid feeling her devil-faced ghost stab you, over and over again. And come up with nothing. If I could, I would never come back to this city again, if it meant I could avoid feeling like I do right now. I would just drop out of that scene, and never look back. But unfortunately, my family is in Austin. And my dear friends are part of that scene. And so, unless I want to cut out my family and friends, I just have to resign myself to the fact that for the rest of my life, I get to relive that most emotionally painful experience every single time I visit my home.
And I’m not used to thinking this way. I’m used to dealing with pain by meditating through it, or taking pain killers, or making lifestyle changes to reduce the cause of the pain, or just avoiding the pain, period. I’m used to taking charge of my life, getting things in order the best way I know how, doing what it takes to make things better. But with this situation, I’m left with avoiding my friends and family, which isn’t an acceptable option, OR sobbing in the shower.
Forgive me if I don’t find that to be a pleasant thing to do.
Ahem. So that is my current frame of mind as I am now at T minus 25 minutes and counting for my first Lupron injection. That I am less than happy as I begin the drugs for this most exciting adventure is one more thing that is UN-FUCKING-FAIR. I should be dancing with joy at this chance to solve our childlessness, but instead, I am sad and weepy and pissed off that despite my drastic removal of her place in my life, the former best friend is still causing me incredible emotional trauma.
When does it all end???