The last two weeks have been two of the most miserable I can remember.
It’s not just losing a friend, someone I loved. That is a big part of it, yes, but not all. It’s the little things around our relationship, the everyday bits and pieces that are a constant reminder. Every time things seem to start healing, something reopens the wound; whether it’s the theme song to Frozen, which I watched with her, and which now plays every day at my workplace; the air freshener scent that was her favorite and pervades my apartment; the favorite movie that I saw first with her. There are lots of little things that make it hard to keep her from my mind. And I can’t, even in this season of peace and love, comfort and joy, even wish her a Merry Christmas.
It doesn’t help that I still have faith in her as a person, and believe that she will, eventually, reach her goals for wellness, and find a better, happier life. I don’t hate her, and I’m not angry at her; far from it. I just don’t know that our ideas of friendship can mesh without better, more honest communication, and right now there isn’t any. I don’t know if friendship would even be good for either of us, but right now I could use more friends.
You see, I just found out a few days ago that one of my closest friends and greatest supports here in Houston is going to be leaving in a month or so. I know she’s been miserable here for a long time; she never wanted to be here, and she was forced to leave her whole previous life behind. And while she values my friendship, she can’t seem to move forward here, and I don’t want to watch her just spin her metaphorical tires and drive herself into further misery just to stay here. I’d much rather know that she has a chance at finding the life she wants back in the place she considers home, even if that means she won’t be able to come hang out at odd hours of the night, or provide energy drinks and comfort when I’m in one of my bleakest moments. I know we’ll still be in touch, but it won’t be the same.
So with the loss of Alice earlier this year, and then a friend who showed me a part of the emotional spectrum I had thought lost to me, and the impending loss (at least in a physical proximity sense) of another close friend and strong support, I’m left wondering what I can do to shore up my support system here.
This is supposed to be a season of hope and miracles, but right now I don’t feel like I have much of either. And while I am confident I will make it through this, I also know that with each loss it will take longer and hurt more.
So while I look forward to spending a day or two next week with my parents, sister, and new niece, I can’t say that these holidays are looking very merry and bright. And, being in Texas, I doubt they’ll even be white.
I hope that all of you who read this look at your own lives, and realize what you have that you value and cherish, whatever or whoever it may be. Because more than any material possession, the people you care about, and who care about you, are the true gifts of the season, and recognizing that is the only bright spot in my holidays this year.