Ramblings of a Ringless Wife

Ringless Wife, Messy House, Cluttered Brain. All in a standard day.

June 29: One of the things that I hate about me

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.

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June 20: Anger

I allowed myself four days off blogging, safe in the knowledge that I would be able to catch up. Why did I give myself these days off? Because for the last few days, I have been angry. Not just “Oh, you pissed me off” angry – but Hulk, “I want to high five you in the face with a chair” angry. Why? Because these are the days that coincide with my “I’m a depressed head f**k” days.

Every now and then, I get days of pure rage. Everything makes me want to scream, nothing seems to go right, A cup not put in the sink can make me see red. I know that when it does happen I need to isolate myself a little bit, take a step back and just breathe.

I am shocking in that when I am angry I take it out on people who don’t deserve it. I don’t mean to do it, I just become much more caustic and volatile, my sarcasm reaches new heights and I imagine peoples heads stuck on totem poles as warning signs to not come near me.

I get cranky over things that aren’t worth it, I over-react to them in ways that just need not happen, and I end up hurting people with my words that I just can’t hold in. Even if the person has been perfectly fine, courteous, whatever, I still have an irrepressible need to just tell them to shut the f**k up because they’re letting their inner moron shine through.

I become something rather nasty, a mere shadow of myself, and basically, not nice to be around. The bit that’s ironic is this is when thoughts that I normally ignore came raring through, I feel alone and isolated, and need people. I need someone who tells me to get the eff over it, and people to tell me that it’s all going to be ok, and to show me that I am not a bad person. I get cranky because people aren’t there for me, but I know that in these days I push them away. Doesn’t make sense, does it? Hey, I want you to come visit me, but I’m going to abuse you, so don’t come… but if you don’t come, you’re going to cop it anyway. Leave me alone because I’m lonely. Have a nice day!

I know that this is an aspect of depression that most people who have suffered it have lived through. I don’t know why it happens when it does, but I know that when it does I want people to see that it’s when I hurt the most that I swear I’m OK. I want people to say “I know you’re not OK, but you will be. One day.”

I want to have the guts to say to people, “You know what? I’m not OK. I don’t want to be alone. I’m scared.” But I don’t. I doubt I ever will.

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