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On any normal Sunday at this time, I would be enjoying a glass of wine with one of my dearest friends, watching Nascar and talking about nothing. And everything. On any other day like this, she would be sitting on my bed telling me to get dressed, that we were going to her house to sit outside and talk. That her husband would cook us a fantastic meal and we would relax and just "be". But not today. Today I get up only to step outside and smoke. Then it's back to bed. Back to solitary confinement. Back to mourning. Back to episodes of Deadliest Catch and Swingtown that I haven't seen yet. Then I'll probably start on the CSI Miami's and eventually the downloaded movies as a last ditch effort to avoid the bouts of tears that keep catching me off guard whenever something on screen reminds me of the friendship I have lost.
Through a series of misunderstandings, mistakes and miscommunications, she has begun confiding in someone else. I'm not her go-to gal anymore. I don't know what I am to her, actually. A mistake, I think. Someone she trusted with her inner-most thoughts who abandoned her when she needed me most. Though I didn't, but that isn't the point here. Wherever she is now, she doesn't want me there.
The Mr. swears that my friendship with her has changed me. Damn right, I say. I learned to be stronger than I thought I could be. Learned to pick my battles, but be ferocious when necessary. Learned that it was OK to stand up for myself. Stand up for what I believe in. Most importantly, I learned that I might possibly have some redeeming value. That loving people right where they are isn't a curse, but a gift. Unfortunately, I am now left to wonder if any of these revelations matter as the tables have turned, leaving me as the outcasted girl in high school. You know the one-as soon as she walks away you hear "I never really liked her anyway".
Which cuts me to the core.
There is nothing that went on in our friendship that should have brought us to this point. Yet here we are. I made some choices. She made some choices. I wasn't planning to leave her behind, but it would seem she would prefer it that way. I suppose I didn't really realize that until last night.
I long for those days when I believed wholeheartedly that nothing would ever come between us. That whatever came our way, we were honest enough with one another that we could get through it, and be stronger in the end. I expected to still be the best of friends in 20 years. Now am left wondering what conversations are being had at my expense when I'm not there. Nevermind years from now.
I don't see healing on the horizon. Only loss. And so I mourn.
I hope she finds that friend she's looking for. I hope that she looks back and treasures the good parts of our friendship and what it meant. I hope at some point she stops seeing me as the bad guy. Above all, I hope she finds that happiness and fulfillment that makes her life complete, whether I'm in it or not. Contrary to what she thinks, she really does deserve to be happy.
Maybe someday I will, too.
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The Mr. has a creepy family secret. And I am going to reveal it here on my blog. To you. I trust you. You won't tell anyone, right? Right!
When he was young, and asleep, he didn't stay in bed. Not only did he not stay in bed, but he wandered around and did things as if on Lyrica completely unaware that he was awake and... doing things.
His parents once witnessed him walk in the kitchen where they were at the table, open the dishwasher, and proceed to use it as a urinal. Can't blame a sleepwalking kid, right?
Well apparently this trait is genetic.
The first time I was aware of it, our youngest child was sleeping at my sister's townhouse. At some point during the night, she felt she needed to open the second story window and shimmy out on ledge above the front door. It was then, while perched precariously twenty feet above the cement walkway that she woke up completely and realized she was in a bit of trouble. She attempted to jump across the walkway onto the semi-soft grass and landed with one foot on the cement, breaking it in three places. Her loud wailing woke the neighbors before it woke us. The pounding on the door woke us .
It was 3 a.m. when we arrived at the Emergency Room with our daughter (yet again...she has a frequent flier account there). I had no experience with this type of thing. My mom assured me that it was probably isolated. She was just really tired. Wore herself out playing with the cousins.
Okay, I thought. That makes sense. I'm not freaked out. I'm okay. Really.
Thankfully, I've only since seen her have conversations and do harmless things like feed the dogs in the middle of the night. I send her back to bed and she giggles, remembering nothing in the morning. Besides, we lock the dishwasher. I'm not takin any chances. Although, I would love to see the look on the Mr.'s face when he grabs a cup for water in the morning...or maybe the Boy since he's the one that doesn't empty the dishwasher at night when it's clean.
My point, before I got slightly sidetracked, was that while it wasn't completely isolated, it seemed harmless enough. Until...
Last night, she spent the night at a friend's house. This friend lives on some acreage next to a small farm. They have horses and goats and geese and such. It's mini-Redneck heaven.
At some point during the night, she was informed, she sat up and didn't know where she was. In the dark, she panicked and ran up the stairs. Thankfully avoiding the window, she unlocked the front door, walked outside and across the yard to the farm next door. Where she knocked on the door at 2 a.m. It was about the time they answered that she woke up completely and realized that she not only knew where she was, but knew whose door she had knocked on. She apologized, explained and went back in the house.
When she awoke the next morning, she thought she had experienced the strangest dream...
Until her friend called ten minutes ago. And told her she hadn't been dreaming. She had tears in her eyes as she relayed the story to me. I can tell she was a little frightened.
I am too.
I'm going to spend the next two hours Googling sleep walking children. For heaven's sake. The child obtains enough injuries when wide awake. I shudder to think what could happen while she's asleep.
Anyone have experience with this? Anyone have tranquilizers? No, not for her. For me. I'm going to need something to put in my wine tonight if I'm ever going to sleep. Like ever again.
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This morning, I visited a new fishing spot. A local river with a steep downgrade of large boulders followed by a steep path where I continually hit my shin on the same sharp piece of a log, resulting in a 5 inch diameter bruise. Lovely.
However, well worth it:
My love for fishing and my necessity for Vicodin occasionally (Fibromyalgia is a bitch) led me to be watching an infomercial while I was particularly medicated one afternoon. I was entranced by a whirlwind advertisement for a BRAND! NEW! FISHING! LURE! SYSTEM! Internets, I was hooked. Pardon the pun. I grabbed my credit card and called the number. Sap that I am.
And all for $19.95! What a deal!
Here's where our story really begins.
I haven't called to order anything since "Songs for Worship" back in 1999. Back then, it was real people who answered. Yes, they tried to get you to fill out surveys and buy more stuff. But it was easy to say no and they gave up easily. Most of the time.
There was an automated answering system. The inventor of which should be hung by his testicles in the public square. I'm sure they still do that somewhere, right?
The exchange (if you can call it that) went like this:
Recording: Congratulations for ordering the Mighty Lure 5 Senses Fishing System! Unconditionally guaranteed to catch more fish than anything else in the whole wide world! Because you have spent your hard-earned money on this crappy system, we are offering you MORE crappy systems for five bucks less! But only if you order them now! To order them NOW, say "yes" or press 1!
Me: Silence
Recording: I can understand your hesitance. But you might consider buying another set or five for gifts, to irritate your husband with your credit card debt, or to hand out to the homeless. To order more kits, say "yes" or press 1! If you do not want to order more kits, please press 2 or say "No".
Me: NO!
Recording: I understand. Well, in addition to your lure kit, and any others we might convince you to buy before you hang up, you might want to get accessory kits and refills for the smelly stuff. Only nine-ninety-five! To order an accessory kit, please say "yes" or press 1!
Repeat the first process. About fifty times for fifty different "offers". I was afraid to hang up for fear they would take that as a YES and run my card for a thousand bucks. So I stayed on the line and did my duty, saying NO to every five-ninety-nine add-on they offered and spending a good 30 minutes on the phone.
By the time I hung up, my meds had worn off and my buyers remorse set in. We'll have to see how I feel when my package arrives in 6-8 weeks.
So what I really ended up buying was a chunk of manipulative merchandising and a heaping helping of frustration. All for the amazing price of $19.99 plus shipping!
Will keep you posted on how the lures work. And I'll totally eat my words if they work like they claim to. The fish? We'll see...
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I made a choice not long ago. To follow my faith and leave behind some people and places that contradict what I believe and want to stand for. It's been painful, to say the least.
Today, I received what I believe is a blessing for my efforts.
A stimulus check in the mail that I didn't think we'd actually see.
In the exact amount we needed to catch up.
God is good. I'm tellin' ya.
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Tonight at 7:00 p.m. Pacific time, I will be on the Jester Show on Talk Shoe!
Subjects will range from Vicodin to Religion to (as usual) sex! So please click over there and join in the fun!
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