So, here I am making an honest-to-Gord attempt to be a good blogger with more than one post in a week. Bear with me as there are bound to be errors since typing on the iPad is a royal pain. I can't complain too much as the computer is an option. However the idea of lying in a warm bed to blog was a lot more appealing than sitting at a computer desk.
Better company, too.
Anyway, I've been thinking the last few days about an occurrence that took place back around my birthday. I had wanted to write about it but I guess I hadn't quite parsed out on my feelings on the whole thing.
I got a text, out of nowhere, from a friend I hadn't spoken to in almost two years. She had been my best friend for 18 years. We had a falling-out and well.. Things were said. Feelings were hurt and then nothing more was said. That was it. We weren't friends anymore.
"They say friends don't destroy one another
What do they know about friends?"
So back in August, I was having a quiet evening with The Guy On The Other Side of The Bed when my cell buzzed. My stomach had dropped when I read the name and my heart started racing. I felt vaguely nauseated, nervous, and tears came to my eyes as they are prone to whenever... well... whenever. The message said only "Hey." I had never deleted her from my phone, so her name came up immediately. I thought of a reply that I felt would accurately convey my shock at hearing for her after almost two years.
What ensued was pretty much history's shortest, most awkward small-talk text conversation. Part of me wanted to engage more, but at that point I was wary. I couldn't fathom why, after so much time, was she trying to reach me, especially when i had made a couple of attempts to reach out over the past few years with no response or acknowledgement. When I ran out of small talk, I simply stopped replying.
I found out later from my mother that my dad had run into her at the store. She was in town with her family, and he suggested she call me. I guess it's harder for someone to hang up on a text? I guess if it were me I'd be hesitant to pick up the phone, as well, not knowing what reaction would be waiting on the other end. I'd considered calling, but I think I was still angry and still felt as though I was owed an apology. I'm sure she may have felt the same way. I don't know, I can only speculate. Truth is, I still miss her but I am still hurt about the way things went down.
I'm still not entirely sure how I feel, at any rate. I don't regret my part in it, only that my timing could have been better. I sleep well at night, knowing I've done things on my own terms and at my own pace, in a way I've felt was best for myself and my children. I don't apologize for these things, or for having times that were difficult to navigate.
I have friends, dear friends and The Guy On The Other Side of The Bed and family, all whom get that I am not perfect, far from it and for that I am eternally grateful. I guess it still gets to me sometimes.
Such is life.