I am frustrated.
Because when my friend texted me this morning, ranting in all caps that he had found out his former best friend was getting married through a friend who saw on social media, I knew I had to write back. I couldn't ignore someone in so much pain. I automatically remembered the betrayal I had felt in similar situations, the way some people remember where the keys on the piano after not sitting at the bench for ten years, the way others' feet start running every time they slip those worn out sneakers on and step out the front door onto the pavement. Muscle memory, only with emotions.
I could feel a tiny bit of that burning pain I knew must be searing my friend's soul that morning, like hearing the crack of thunder far in the distance and anticipating the familiar roll of thunder and patter of rain that you know will soon engulf your little corner of the world. Even if it's the first storm of the summer, and you'd almost forgotten about the pesky things, you remember what a thunderstorm is like because for years you've sat through them. It's sort of the same with chronic emotional hurt. You've been through it so many times that when someone says it's happening to them, you know exactly what they mean. And you know how much it sucks. And you know it can't be put into words. And you know that there's nothing you can say to make it better. All you can do is try.
It's frustrating not to know what to say, but it's worse to say nothing.
So I said I was sorry. I said it sucked. That people suck. That it was wrong.
I was mad though, because I had messaged him a week or so ago with a long word vomit about how I was struggling, with no reply. Normally this is a friend I can be honest with and expect support and understanding. I was tempted not to reply to his message, but I couldn't be that person. I know the pain too well.
All the same, I've been falling back into blue lately, having one dark cafe day after another, feeling that familiar blankness softly cover my mind with a numbness like snow falling silently on a dark street, quietly changing the landscape, flake by flake, until suddenly you wake and look out and your entire landscape has changed. Others look out and see a winter wonderland - maybe a day off work or school, a romp making snowmen and angels - but you just see grey. As far as the eye can see - color stifled, the senses muffled in earmuffs and thick layers, isolation enforced, the world shut down temporarily.
I hate that feeling. It makes me so scared.
Scared it's all going to go down to that deepest, darkest place I've been where I couldn't handle to pain and nobody could help me carry it. Before that awful year, I started feeling blue this very same time of year. It came on quietly, slowly, just as it is now.
Now that it's happening again, I feel afraid it will spiral out of control again.
I feel afraid I will not know how to push through it.
I feel mad because it keeps happening.
I feel mad because it's unfair some people can just be happy.
I feel alone because I'm afraid to keep reaching out to talk or asking for help because I just don't know who cares any more.
I feel alone because I know he is not the right man and he will not love me. He does not love me the way I deserve.
I feel mad because it's not fair that I give to others and others rarely give back to me. Sometimes they even take.
I'm mad because I love and he doesn't and I end up getting hurt. I keep being the one who gets hurt while he goes on with his life, semi-oblivious.