Once Upon Another Time

I'm mad at my friend with cancer.

What kind of heinous-fucking-bitch move is that?

The thing is: I can't be the kind of friend everyone wants me to be.

I am not sweet and I am often not kind. Sorry, I'm just not a very nice girl all of the time. It isn't because I am inherently evil--as a few people I know would have you believe--it is because I am inherently broken. I've felt like, for the majority of my life and all of my adulthood, that I have this gaping gash somewhere inside me, from all the pieces this life has taken from me. At some point in high school, I think I broke and I never granted myself the opportunity to properly heal. So, I've got this gash, all scarred over, this thick and immobile scar tissue tacking-up my insides. And then everything little thing hurts me. Everything hurts me, all the time, always. Because I got broke like Humpty Dumpty, who'd been drinking too much and just couldn't keep his balance. 

And, somehow, because of this, I have become the bad-guy in everyone's story. People who I don't even know, people who don't even know me, people who I work with and find me threatening, people who are just people.

A handful of people, in particular, that really don't like me. They are making me the enemy in their story, and I am telling you, I am tired. I don't know anything about these people to be their villain. They don't know enough about me to assume I am worthy of the title. I'll tell you, I come to work to work. I clock out at the end of the day and I don't let what I see and what I do bog me down. It's a job. I love many aspects of it and I certainly don't want to lose it, but it is just a job. For me, there are bigger things that I want for myself, and this job is a step in the right direction. So, I come to work and I work. I do my job. And I don't do a bad one. But, my workplace is full of people who apparently never graduated high school--let alone have two kids and a husband--and these people are truly entertained by talking shit, spreading rumors, and attempting to make certain the lives around here are miserable. I'm not of the temperament for giving in and giving up; I try to be more of a fighter. But, with every punch I threw back, I realized I was making it worse only for me. And now, I'm staring at the cold face of termination because of a handful of people that simply "don't like" me. How absurd is that?

You know, I have never had a life-threatening disease or been in war, but I do feel like every day anymore is a fight for my life. A fight to prove I am worthy of these things I want to do. A fight to prove I deserve to keep living.

So, I am probably going to get fired. It is surely inevitable. Maybe I can hold it off, maybe I can make it the whole year in-which I'm basically On Notice. Maybe I can outlast everyone who believes I can't. Maybe I can do it by being exactly who they want me to be. Maybe, but I am not counting on that. I am counting on handling it, one way or another, like a professional, mature adult. And, I am counting on dealing with it, the best way I know how. Because, if I can't deal with it...well, it'll probably be the straw that breaks the camel's back. So, I just have to deal.

And, all the while, someone I truly love is fighting cancer. She is the friend I used to have that I called "My Person". She is the friend I always wanted to be around forever. And then, a few years ago, we fell off. We stopped talking. We stopped liking each other.

Well, we weaseled our way back into each other's lives. Or, maybe I should say I weaseled, because that's what it feels like. She has a slew of new friends with whom she is now closer, both physically and personally, and a new life that she is fighting to keep a hold on. And I feel like I am on the outside looking in, trying to be there for her and be that friend I want to be, but unable to ultimately connect. I am so jealous of her new friends. I used to be that for her, we used to be so close. And now, even though I am probably her oldest friend, I am low on her list and that hurts. I want so badly to make everything right, to make it like it was, and to take away the pain and the problem and the disease. I want to be like we were, but I can't and she can't and she won't. Because things are different and they probably should be. It's not like things ended well for us last time.

So, here I am, struggling again to keep myself afloat, working twelve hour shifts and seventy-two hour weeks, finding little time to be alone and reflect. And, all the while she has cancer and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it. I am doing everything that I can. I have offered to be there for everything; I have asked. But, she still doesn't really talk to me and I still feel ultimately helpless. Defenseless. Useless. And wrong for being mad that she hasn't bothered to ask me how I am.

I'm not doing well; I'm really not. But, I have to fight for my life alone. Because, I'm the one with the gaping hole and the penchant for getting hurt. I'm the one who has to fix that.

I'm not a horrible person; I'm just a little broken in places. I like to think that we all are, but I guess other people wear it better than I do. That's probably very true. And, that really hurts my feelings.

I don't mean to say anything hurtful or mean, but this is my blog to talk about me, and that's what I've done. I've talked about my feelings. I guess if that pisses you off or upsets you in some way, we can talk about yours some other time.

We'll All Live Happily Never After