Friends?

I ran into one of those "friends" that unceremoniously dropped me over a year ago. This was a group of seven "friends" that had been together for over five years, that emailed almost daily, that got together at least 2-3 times a month. This was a group of ladies I thought were forever friends. We would get the whole gang together with our husbands and go out to eat, watch the super bowl, etc. We talked about how we would still be together in our 70's and 80's. These were my friends.

And then I became depressed, seriously, critically, clinically depressed. Then the Fibro kicked in with a vengeance. I retreated. I crawled into a hole. I became a zombie, doing only what absolutely had to be done for me and my family to exist. And, only exist. The living, the life was gone.

Well, I guess my "friends" had enough. They stopped emailing. They stopped calling. They, as a group, decided I had "moved on". They, as a group, were no longer going to email or call or invite me to the get togethers. They, as a group, were through being my friend. Can you imagine? I did.

I pictured them gathered around the table. What to do about CJ? She doesn't email. She doesn't come out anymore. She must have moved on. We will, too. We will drop her as our friend. All in favor, raise your hand. Opposed? No? No. She is no longer our friend.

So, today this "friend" sees me for the first time in over a year. I am getting a pedicure (a luxury I allow myself every now and then). She is finished and comes over to me. "CJ, how are things?" Like nothing had ever happened. Like she saw me last month and wanted to catch up. She peppered me with questions. How's your husband? How's your daughter? How's your son? With each question I had to fight the tears back. I dug my nails into the palm of my hand. Harder. Harder. How could she act this way? How could she be asking about my family like she was still a part of my life? How could she act this way after the way she treated me? What the hell is a friend, anyway? Can I melt into this chair and get away from this pain? Does she not see it? Hear it in my voice?

No. She couldn't. I was the cashier at the grocery store - the woman at the dry cleaners - the girl who just did her nails. I was just another person in her day that required polite behavior. Just another faceless person to attend to when you are polite and behave with good manners.

She didn't see me. She didn't see the pain she was causing. The pain she caused. I have dreaded this day. The day I would run into one of my old "friends". Living in a hole left little chance that I would. I was safe in that hole.

And now I hurt. And I am so tired. I hurt physically and emotionally. I can feel the tension in my shoulders and in my neck. And in my hands, with the indentations of my fingernails deep inside my palms. I hurt and I have a headache. I have a killer headache from holding back the tears.

How could she not see?How could they not see? How could I be put out like yesterday's garbage? Gad, I hurt. I am so tired. I hurt. I hurt. I hurt.

Stress? Yes, it affects fibro symptoms.

me,
just me

but maybe, just maybe,
CJ, in time