As you may have gathered, I am a very emotional person. Like, super-crazy-Frodo-Baggins style emotive.
I laugh a lot, smile a lot, rejoice a lot. Then there is the flip side – I cry a lot, I get angry a lot, and I get hurt… a lot. And, unfortunately for me, it hurts deeply.
My problem is that I place too much store in old friendships. I think that the years entitle me to a phone call, even if you don’t want anything. I think that the years mean when I need someone, that they should be there too. Like I am for them.
Yet, I am consistently let down. In the last two months, who my friends are has become strikingly obvious. Ready for this? I have two. That’s two people out of my medium sized (about 15) friends circle who have checked up on me, dragged me out of my house, have called me just to make sure I am alive. While I am grateful – and I mean, eternally grateful – for these two, it’s made me hurt for the ones who I expected to be there.
In the last eight weeks, I have had my world turn up side down on its axis; and while it is now slowly going back to the way it should be, I’ m finding myself getting angrier at the people who I thought would have my back. I had a few friends who I thought I could count on, who I thought would be there for me even while the road was akin to that of getting to Mordor. To know I was wrong hurts more than anything I have gone through. It also scares me.
The two friends that have been there have literally carried me. If it wasn’t for them and Dan, I would have been lost and floating somewhere out near the Starship Enterprise. But it makes me angry for them – why have they had to carry me and my burden, when those who claim to love me and care for me were no where to be seen? Why have they had to shoulder me alone, when there should have been others, some having been my friends for more than a decade and a half? I have been there for all of them – when things went south and no one believed in them or their abilities, I did.
This is what I hate about me. I feel things so keenly, and deeply. I hurt on a level that is hard for me to move on from. It distracts me, it angers me, and seeing them pop up on my Facebook make me want to hurl abuse at them.
Friendship isn’t about who can help you with possessions when you have none. It’s not all about fun and sunshine and roses and who can skoll the most vodka. Sometimes, it’s about walking a rocky road, barefoot and bleeding; it’s about sitting beside someone while they are power-chucking even though you are retching yourself; it’s about recognising that they need you more than you realise. Sometimes, it’s about being Frodo’s Samwise.
I wish I could turn myself into a non-emotive, self sufficient shrew – it would hurt less than feeling like the people who I thought would hold me have dropped me.
I wish I could be one of these people that flit from friend to friend and not look back.
I wish I could be important enough to those that are important me.
I wish I would learn this lesson, once and for all, so I didn’t keep getting hurt.