Over the past couple of weeks, I’ve learned a very hard lesson. And to be honest, I’m surprised with myself about how long it has taken for me to learn this. For the most part, I’ve always thought that people were kind and trustworthy. Over the past year or so, I’ve become so much more in tune to how easy it is for people talk about the one individual who isn’t in the room. The topic of conversation so easily shifts from the weather to “So did you hear what she said? Oh. My. God.”
I’m amazed that I’ve gone for so long thinking that my secrets were safe with people. That even my NON-secrets were safe with people. But it’s not true. It’s human nature to belittle and destroy and degrade those who are not around you. Especially women. I’m not mad about this revelation. I’m only using it as an opportunity to add one more thin veneer to myself. I’ve often been accused of allowing people access to my heart and granting trust to those who don’t deserve it.
When I was younger, my mom once told me that I wear my heart on my sleeve. I asked her if that was a bad thing, and at the time, she told me “it can be, sometimes.” Now I know that such unequivocal transparency is a terrible way to live. That’s how people get hurt. That’s how I get hurt.
Recently, someone close to me revealed that in the recent weeks, they had briefly considered ending their life. I don’t mean they had stared down the barrel of a gun, or even stopped momentarily in the painkiller aisle at the grocery store and considered, “Which one would help me go fastest?” It was a fleeting, preliminary thought, but enough to make this person actually ask the Internet how to end their life in a quiet, pain-free way.
Do you know what Google says when you ask it this question?
This was enough to give them pause.
This message, posted at eye-level. Above the pro-suicide blogs, the nonsense articles about the “best” ways to remove yourself from life. This.
Hearing this story makes me feel like I’ve lost balance. It’s completely thrown me off because everything I thought I knew about the last month or so of my life is wrong. Every conversation I have had with my buddy has been veiled in a pain that I understand so well that it wrenches my heart out of my chest to know they kept it from me. And even worse, that I didn’t see it.
But what good does it do to throw myself into that black soul-sucking pit as well? Bad back or not, the only thing I can do it throw down a rope and slowly try to pull my friend up and out. Hopefully, along the way, I will gather friends, family and counselors behind me to help.
I just want you to know, that the hole in my heart would never heal if you were gone.
I’m getting real tired of having to say this. Seriously. Really. Damn tired. I got a job. I got some new friends who care about me, who reach out to me and want to do things with me, and who love me for who I am. They can accept my highs and lows and even when my daughter refuses to speak to them. They can hand me a tissue and a glass of wine when I burst into tears for no reason. And when I go to work, I come home and I’m TIRED. Most days I don’t have time to call and chat about nonsense. I want to gather my family around me, spend time with my husband and then go to bed. I am not pushing ANYONE away. And if anyone feels that way, well then, maybe the distance has been because you’re the one walking away from me. And hey, if the shoe fits? Then feel free to lace that bitch up and wear it. I know who I am, and I know who I’m going to actively seek out and spend my time with. I know what’s best for my family and for my daughter, and that’s what I’m basing my decisions on. I’m not thirteen, hell, I’m not 22. I don’t have the mental strength to make calls based on cattiness or he said, she said craziness. If it’s not good for me, my mate, or my kid, it’s not happening. Period. End. I’m not saying this again.