you figured it out

"so, you going to write about this?" he asked as we lay in bed, staring at the ceiling.

"what?" i replied.

"are you going to write about this tomorrow in your blog?" he asked again, smirking at my surprise.

he had figured out that he was the infamous 'you.' i wasn't prepared for that.

i tried to lie. "what are you talking about? i've never written about you."

he laughed. then he pointed out a specific entry from a few years ago that was most definitely about him. there wasn't much to decode. i had used too many details. i didn't think it mattered because i never thought he'd find my blog to read it.

"okay, i wrote about you one time. i promise i won't do it tomorrow."

he laughed again, submitting to my stubbornness whilst clearly recognizing that i was lying through my teeth.

a few months later, a friend of mine insinuated that he thought the 'you' was him. i couldn't help but think of that conversation with you and laugh. i really had only written about him once. if he had actually called me out like you did, i wouldn't have needed to lie.

well, darling, you aren't always the 'you'...but you've been him more than anyone else.

a bad memory leads to bad decisions

i've never had a good memory. my mind simply can't hold on to old conversations, stories, movies or experiences.

my teachers were often disappointed in my seeming lack of retention. my parents lament the fact that i remember only a few details from our early family vacations. my friends hate that i never can remember the tears i've cried over you.

this week, as i welcomed your attention once more, two friends somberly tried to remind me of a time when i wept in their laps over you. i didn't have the heart to tell them that i couldn't remember it. i am sure that it happened. i know well enough to trust their memories over my own.

i remember clearly what caused the tears, but not the crying itself. i can imagine where my heart went in the moment. i probably questioned my worth. i probably doubted my strength. i probably desperately attempted bargaining with God to sever the ties that bound my heart to you.

it's a vicious cycle, this blissful ignorance then inevitable remembrance. because i can't remember the pain from your last leaving, i all too easily fall into your web of charm and wit when you reemerge after lying dormant for months or years. worse yet, i crave it. i invite it. i encourage it.

on most occasions, at least one of us realizes that you plus me equals trouble and we pull away before anyone (me) gets hurt. but sometimes, sometimes i let myself get a little too comfortable. i watch my phone, waiting for your next text. once again, i become the girl i swore i'd never be.

you used to tell me that i deserved better than anything you could offer me. you were right. i always knew you were right. i still know it. and yet, i can't quit. you're like an addiction. 

a year in isolation

i just survived the loneliest, most isolating year of my life.

i moved back to the small town where i was raised, from which nearly everyone i know had escaped. my friends were scattered around the continent, but i was hopeful for somewhat of a normal social life because my oldest friends were only an hour's drive away.

so what if i was moving to the middle of nowhere? i'd see my friends in the city all of the time. at least monthly, right? well, half of them have kids now. so maybe once every three months or so?

that's not exactly what happened.

about a year before my move, an old friend and i had a falling out. she made it exceedingly clear that she wanted nothing to do with me and never wanted to share space with me again. when she's the social manager for the friend group and she doesn't like you anymore, i guess your invitations suddenly get lost in the mail.

i don't blame my friends for it. they wanted to remain neutral. no taking sides, they said. i get it. still, the only time i saw most of those friends was when i came to town and organized a meal together.

i was disappointed, but i understood their situation. if she's organizing the dinners and the new years eve parties and the fun girls nights, it would be frowned upon for one of my friends to invite me along. so instead, a best friend from new york visited for new years and i called other far away friends and i cherished the time i did get to spend with the couple of nearby friends who ensured to schedule one-on-one time with me away from the group.

and i rationalized, "if you want to see them, reach out to them. you can't be upset that they aren't inviting you if you don't do the same." so when the opportunity came for me to dogsit and live in the city for a month, i took full advantage. i reached out to everyone to make plans to see each other while i was in town. despite some promises to follow up, i saw a grand total of one friend during that month. (in full disclosure, i later found out that i had outdated phone numbers for a few folks and had been calling and texting the wrong numbers nearly all year. no wonder they were disappointingly silent.)

living in small town ohio was tough, but missing my nearby friends was worse. it was isolating and painful. my empathetic brain can certainly rationalize their behavior. honestly, i can't say whether or not i would have acted any differently had i been in their shoes. out of sight, out of mind didn't become a common saying for nothing.

eventually, i quit texting or calling. i'd go to the city to go shopping or to see my family and i wouldn't tell anyone i was in town. i immersed myself in my new business and spent a lot of time searching my own soul, which started out with self-loathing and pity:

• why do they hate me? (they didn't.)
• why don't they call me? (call them if you want to talk, you idiot.)
• why did they choose her over me? (they didn't.)

next i grappled with projection and blame. then i moved on to surface level stuff. until i finally got to the meat of it all:

• as i think back on my time back home last year, i wonder if my sadness had to do with a sort of regression back to my adolescent self. i don't ever want to be that melodramatic little girl again. i've worked a lot of years to grow into a healthier, more stable being.
• and these dear, old friends. i haven't been a regular part of their lives for a lot of years. why did i think it would suddenly change, simply because i was living a little closer than before?

friendships, just like any good relationship, must be nurtured. the real reasons for my isolation had nothing to do with anything my self-declared enemy had inflicted. it was the direct result of many years of me being checked out and self-secluded.

i'm a terrible long-distance friend. i do a lot better when you're right in front of me. i know that i need to do better, and i'm taking baby steps. for example, when two friends got engaged, i wrote a card and sent it in the mail instead of simply posting my congratulations to facebook. i'm really trying to make efforts to change my attitude and behavior.

i guess the point of all of this is: don't throw stones in glass houses. you'll end up with a lot of required clean up and no one to blame but yourself.

a poem

i loved you as i've loved none other.

others held my attention.
others held my body.
others held my heart.

you held them all at once.