So, here I sit. In front of the computer. Poised to start my first "real" blog. Filled to the brim with "stories". Stories that many of you have heard several times over and probably don't have any desire to hear again and with stories that no one has ever heard. Those stories may well be the most compelling to read and, quite honestly, the most difficult to write. Here I sit. And sit. Suddenly, paralyzed with fear. Funny, I know. I'm the one writing this thing. I'm the one who stole the idea from my wonderfully charming and creative cousin. No one's holding a gun to my head. No one is 'waiting" for my written word to publish anywhere. These words really don't matter at the end of the day. I can type whatever I want. Yet. I can't. I know, the power of words. The way that they can either lift a person up or destroy them. Maybe that, in and of itself, is where I'll start. Int the power of words.
The day started like any other. I woke up. I woke the girls up. We all got ready for the day to begin. There was fighting and doors slamming. (No one can slam a door like my daughter!) As I got ready to make my way through the mire that is my life in "Perfect", I realized that yet another day had gone by and I hadn't heard from my "BFF". This had been going on for months and I was really starting to worry. Panic. Anxiety is my closest companion most days. I'm a nervous, anxious, panicky, insecure person. I've been told that that doesn't appear to be the case, by people who "somewhat" know me. I suppose that the "panic" being lost in translation is a good thing. Perhaps, I've become so good at "hiding" what I feel, that I've been able to completely hide that portion of myself. The ironic part is, it's THIS panic. Fear. Insecurity. That ultimately costs me one of the longest and closest friendships of my life.
Once the girls had gone to school, I bit the bullet. I called said BFF and, of course, got her voice mail. This had been our only mode of communication for weeks now; leaving each other "messages". These messages, on the surface, seemed quite benign, normal. I can only speak for myself when I say, they were NOT. They were my (failed) attempt at pretending that I didn't know that I had already lost my friend. You see, we all have that little voice inside ourselves. That voice that tells the truth (well, mostly the truth) when the voice box insists on lying. That inner voice had been telling me for months that it was "over". Funny how losing a girl friend feels a lot like a death. A "break up". A loss of profound proportions. Nonetheless, it does. It feels bad. So, my freakishly insecure self, was in full blown panic mode as her phone rang. I was terrified that she'd answer and pissed when she didn't.
I forced the issue, of course. I had to know what was going on. I HAD to know. Don't we all do that? Don't we all "push" the pain? I just couldn't stand not knowing what I had done. (I know, instinctively, that it had to be me. No one else in "Perfect" makes any mistakes. Just me.) Here's where the power of words really kicks in.........I got my wish.
She returned my call. It felt calculated, of course. The phone rang at about 3pm. School gets out at 3:30 pm. No way for this call to last "too long". The niceties were exchanged. "How are you?"....and all that crap. Then the real deal kicked in. I asked what was wrong. I was told what was wrong. Me. Plain and simple. It's me. I tell people too much. I share too many private details of my life that "no one" wants to hear about. I "agree" with people too easily. (Even when I know things are bull shit.) I'm too helpful. (Not everyone WANTS help.) And the topper.....I act EXACTLY like my BFF. (I'm her doppelganger.) There wasn't enough separation between us. I had "become" her. I annoy everyone in Perfect. They feel like I'm trying to "one up" them, by sharing my own experiences. I need to just shut up, basically. She said that I needed to understand that it wasn't that everyone hated ME, just my personality.
Wow. Now, sit back for a second and really take this in. Take in what it would feel like to have you nearest and dearest friend tell you, in no uncertain terms that everything that makes you who you are is annoying. Defective. Broken. All you need to do to be "likable" is change everything about yourself.
Clearly, this was a nuclear bomb going off in my face. You know that bomb that takes multiple people to make explode. The one that I helped explode.
The simple truth is that I couldn't disagree with anything that she said. I DO tell people too much. (Maybe especially my BFF and her other friends. They make me nervous and the more nervous I get, the more I talk and SHARE.) I DO share my deepest, most private experiences with everyone (clearly....or else this blog wouldn't exist). I DO agree with people, even when what they're saying is total bullshit. (Again, this speaks to my nervousness. My insecurity. I so badly want to "get along" with everyone and be liked, that I'm too agreeable. I don't want to be "that girl" who always disagrees with everyone. Always challenges the validity of what people are saying.) I AM too helpful. (I want everyone to like me, so I'll volunteer to help do things that NO ONE likes to do, i.e. move or clean a bathroom.) I DO act like the people that I spend the most time with (and THEY act like me...I might add). I HAVE lived a very full, eventful life. (Much to my chagrin. I wish that I had led a boring, uneventful life. I'd probably be a totally different person, if I had.) I DO share those experiences with people, when they come up in conversation. (I want to make people feel comfortable. I've always thought that being able to "relate" to people, was comforting, not annoying.) I just NEVER saw (maybe I should say "realized") those traits as "bad". Clearly, I was wrong.
The power of these words has made a huge impact on me. Not only are my BFF and I NOT friends anymore, I question EVERY friend I have. I question my sanity. I question my personality. I question everything I share with people. Maybe most of all, I question just exactly who, in Perfect, thinks this exact same thing about me, but, just won't tell me. Makes it hard to want to leave the house, some days.
Deep breath. Here I go......just another day in Perfect.
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