I’m emotionally drained today. You know that feeling (I hope you don’t, but you probably do) – shaking, hot, sick, regretful. In a fit of tears last night, I swore I’d never befriend another woman. Today, I realize that I’m painting all the amazing women I am lucky to meet and befriend with a larger unfair brush meant for a petty few. Yep, I apologize for even thinking bad things about my ladies. Sorry ’bout that.
I’m very entrenched in grieving and I’m not yet close to being back to the fun, happy, joyful me of pre-Tectonic baby. Everything seems to hit me as more intense, touching, meaningful. I do regularly find myself getting choked up if anyone shows me kindness (shout out to my peeps, yo!). With this loss and the moving through grief, I’m learning the hard lesson that “get over it” is considered a supportive response by some people, and that there’s stupid truth to that cliche about “knowing who your real friends are”. The short story about Monday’s sadness is that two female “friends” (Y & SF, who I’ve talked about previously) were chatting about me over email in a really nasty way. When one of them hit send, she hadn’t noticed that my name was in the cc: field – at least I hope she didn’t notice. It was a really harsh string of hateful words from both of them over several emails, and if they wanted me to see it, that’s a bigger kick in the ass than I can consider right now. (“nasty” and “hateful” confirmed by an impartial observer to verify if I was being too sensitive as mentioned in the second sentence in this paragraph)
I sit here trying to decide if I wish I’d never seen those words, or if I’m grateful that I have.
I now go to a monthly support group for pregnancy loss, and last meeting part of the discussion came up about how acquaintances, family, friends can really shine and be supportive, or they may be uncomfortable, thoughtless, tactless, impatient, intolerant, even cruel. I had still really hermited myself and hadn’t emerged back to regular relationships, so I didn’t quite get it, how these women and men were being cast aside in their time of real need.
Today, I get it. I don’t want to get it. I don’t want to lose the Tectonic baby AND friends. I want to be held and loved and checked on and cared for. I don’t want this hateful pain directed at me. I didn’t mean for the Tectonic baby to die. I didn’t mean to pull into myself. I didn’t want to be broken in the dark. I didn’t mean to ask for help from the wrong people. I didn’t mean to communicate so terribly badly.
I am again filled with such an appreciation and love for everyone who’s sent an email, left a note, hugged me hard, checked on me, held me while I cried. On the ongoing theme of darkness into light, these are the people who are my sparkly, always freshly charged, mag-lites.
Yes, I’m ending a post comparing wonderful people to mag-lites. I’m going to grab some lunch and probably obsess more this afternoon before deciding what I should do about these two poo-heads, if anything.