Looking Back and Letting Go

Yesterday, I found myself thinking about my friends from college. I had been talking to three of them and I just miss them, in a way that I wasn’t initially aware of. I thought about the friendships I once had. How we were bound together by time and proximity. Our time was endless except for studying, which was easily given up and I was one of the few that worked.

We lived all together. Within feet of one another. It wasn’t miles, it wasn’t a car trip, it wasn’t a plane trip. It was next door. I’m saddened that I don’t have that anymore. That I won’t have that anymore by the nature of age. My time has become a precious commodity and I don’t have endless amounts of it. We are all so many miles apart on completely different coasts; we are plane flights away from each other. And I miss it because I know I won’t get it back.

For me my friends have always been my family. They are my family. When I was a child, my family were just people I was bound to by blood, but who were never there for me. My friends were my core. My friends were always there for me. When I conjure up the word family it is so leaden with despair and disappointment. But friendship is filled with love, kindness, compassion, humor, excitement and adventure. And I want that.

Even though the family I have now is my own, one that I have created it is such a paradigm shift for me to turn my focus to family and not to friends. It’s hard for me to shift to this thing that hurt me so much and I find myself still relying on my friends who have moved on and have created their own family, their own networks. I feel like I’m left in the shadow of that. Looking back at these memories, yellowing with age, I know I have to put them away and let them go.

Written as a part of Shell’s Pour Your Heart Out

 

The More Complicated Ship: Friendship

I have this string of thoughts that has been floating around my head, pulling at me. There was a writer’s workshop at Mama Kat’s that I missed awhile ago that asked the question of what 10 lessons your child would teach you. One came to mind, instantaneously, I wish I could make friends easily. Kids just see someone in a vague age range as themselves and they just start talking, start playing and suddenly they’re friends no questions asked. I can’t do that. I’ve never been able to just do that.

I make friends so easily, in my mind. In my mind I haven’t escalated far beyond an initial childhood reaction of you seem nice, we have something in common, let’s be friends. However, I am acutely aware of the fact that the feeling is almost never mutual. Most people take time to make friends. They are guarded. Unwilling to reveal. Their time is precious and difficult to penetrate.  I hate this.

I make friends by telling. Perhaps, usually, too much. I reveal from the get go. It’s a good thing I never dated because I’m sure this earnestness wouldn’t work well.

Why is it so challenging to be friends as adults? Have we been hurt too much? Scorned by childhood teasing and gossip? Why do we have a limit of how many friends we’ll have? At what point does someone transition from acquaintance to friend?

To me friendships are more complicated than relationships. Much more complicated. In a relationship to an extent you know where you stand. They are milestones that you complete. There are late night whisperings. When was the last time two friends sat together to discuss just what kind of friends they are?

I am loyal. To a fault. I will do anything and everything for my friends.

I forgive. Always. Often when I shouldn’t.

I am compassionate. My empathy is endless.

Perhaps because I give so much, always, that I never feel like I get what I give. I never feel equal. Like in a relationship where one loves more, deeper, stronger, there is that endless imbalance in my friendships. That endless doubt in my mind of where we stand.

On some level I’m always surprised when my friends are there for me. I am expecting them to disappoint me. I never feel worthy of their friendships, so I never trust it completely. So I give more and more to compensate for these feelings of inadequacy.

I have an arsenal of fear.

I’m often so disappointed in myself. Disappointed that I care so much, try so hard, and feel so terribly alone at the end of the day. I miss my friends from Chicago with a tremor that shakes my core. I know I idealize them, idealize a childhood friendship we once had for in reality the friends I’ve known the longest know me the least. They know my past though; they know what has shaped me. Molded me, broke me, put me back together. So I carry them with me. I find that the internet makes it all the more harder. These virtual relationships you’re building with people you’ve never met.

I miss the days when we all wore friendship bracelets and hearts torn in two.

 

 

 

Linked up with Shell’s Pour Your Heart Out and Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop: Disappointed

    

Let’s Talk About the Serious Stuff: When Parents Fight

I read an article in the New York Times blog Motherlode which was about when parents fight. It really struck home for me. Like I said in my comment to the article:

My parents fought all the time. My whole childhood was filled with them screaming (mostly my dad) at each other. Doors slamming. Tears. They separated three times, but have never gotten divorced. As far as I am aware of now as an adult who sees them on holidays, things are better. As a child it was traumatizing. I learned to fear my father and his temper. I learned that marriage is about one person whose in charge and another person whose weak. I never wanted to be the weak one. I was/am angry at my mother for letting him treat her that way, for letting it all happen in front of me and almost always ABOUT me. My father and I have a greatly improved relationship as adults, but I will always resent my mother for not sticking up for herself or me and I will never let myself be that kind of woman.

This article makes me more aware of how I need to be in front of my children. We don’t yell. But I often make snide cutting remarks when I’m upset and I realize I shouldn’t do that. I don’t want my children to think that is an okay way to talk to someone when you’re angry.

Its funny, (well not funny, but you know what I mean) that I generally think that my childhood was good. Certainly to compared to many it was okay. It was better than okay having grown up middle class in a very affluent neighborhood. I was exposed to many things that others haven’t been. At the same time I’ve gone through many things that others haven’t. Sad things. Bad things. This was one of them.

When I say my whole childhood was filled with screaming, I’m not wholly exaggerating. My childhood memories involve a lot of yelling, a lot of tears, and a fear deep inside my stomach. I was always afraid. Afraid to ask for something. Afraid to take a second helping. Afraid to admit I was wrong. Afraid to do wrong. There are three specific memories that come to mind when I think of this fear. When I chronicle the yelling in my memories.

We were in Chicago. I had to be 5 or 6 years old and my father insisted that he take a photo of me in front of a Michael Jordon poster where I was holding a basketball above my head. Now at 6 years old that’s damn heavy. I couldn’t do it and that made us have to do it again and again to get the photo. And I would get more and more tired. And he would yell more and I would cry more and you can see where this is going. I have the picture somewhere. I will look for it. You will see the fake smile and the fear.

We were at the table eating dinner at our house in Evanston. They were fighting about something. I was hiding. I must have been 11 years old. I often hid in my closet. I actually painted a secret garden in my closet, an escape from reality. My mom was sobbing in the kitchen. My father was stomping past my room on the way to their bedroom when he stopped by my room. I jumped out of the closet and he came up to me and said completely clearly, “This is all your fault.” And he meant it. I know he meant it. And deep inside I always felt that I was solely responsible for my parent’s arguments. If only I hadn’t existed maybe they wouldn’t always argue. After all he pretty much said so. There were often times when I wondered if perhaps they regretted me. If that was why they only had one child because I was so rotten they couldn’t bare to have another. Except I wasn’t. My mother always tells me how I never cried as a baby. How I would walk nicely as we just walked around the city every day. Maybe even as a small child I knew to be afraid and not to complain or cry.

I was in high school, a junior, and I was talking on the phone with my friend Jeremy. They were yelling about something and I was telling Jeremy about it. I was often very depressed in high school and he was one of the people I turned to for help. My father stormed into my room, grabbed the phone from my hand, threw it on my bed and pushed me down onto the floor. I fell underneath my big glass desk and hit my head on the swivel chair I had been sitting on. I started crying and he was yelling about something. I never recall what because it was rarely if ever about anything worth yelling about.

On some level I’m always expecting to be reprimanded. I’m always toeing the line afraid if I really go out there I’ll be rejected. After all for most of my childhood I felt rejected and abandoned by my parents. Which is why I always said growing up that my (Chicago) friends are my real family. And now that I’ve created my own family, and my children will never grow up in a house of anger and tears.

A part of my series of Let’s Talk About the Serious Stuff. See previous post: Eating Disorders.

Also linked up with Shell’s Pour Your Heart Out.

Orlando Part II: The Pool of Tears

Thursday after the last conference session we discovered the destination of next year’s conference (San Diego, which was my guess!) and then quickly headed out to the airport — where we discovered our flight was canceled. The downside to this was the fact that we had already checked out of our 5 star resort and weren’t at one of the parks with the rest of the people staying an additional night. Instead we waited in line for over an hour to get vouchers for our hotel since we had quickly re-booked for a flight the next morning on our phones. Needless to say Delta got quite a lot of angry tweets in their direction. 

However, it actually turned out quite alright. In fact better than that, it turned out downright hilarious. Mostly because the three of us that got sent to the Crowne Plaza by the airport had a damn good time. Shockingly our damn good time was 100% alcohol free.

From Chris Crawford Photo

We began our journey with a synchronized swimming routine in the hotel pool. Which was awesome. There is video. I still need to edit it.

Then our journey, due to a sudden downpour of rain, took a turn into the hotel restaurant and from there into my hotel room. Most of our hilarious conversations were documented via twitter battle over whose at the skeevier hotel us or our other three co-workers. Below is said twitter conversation:

Orlando Part I: The Parks

Last Saturday bright and early at 7 am I had a flight from MSP to Orlando to go to the database conference I’ve attended for the past five years. Typical to how I like to roll I wound up there late and there were giant lines obviously despite the fact that I had prepaid for my luggage and had my boarding pass. I could feel the tears welling as I stood barefoot waiting my turn in the rapescan rapiscan and of course right after me the security guard decided to open up another machine to speed up the lines.

Not a great start, but it was all uphill from there.

I was with my three co-worker/friends and we met up with my best friend at baggage check who flew in from Pittsburgh to be with me. After checking into our amazing hotel, Hilton Bonnet Creek, we went to Animal Kingdom, which was by far my favorite park. I loved the Kali River Rapids ride (which we went on 3 times) and the Safari. The Safari we went on twice and the second time was definitely the best. I recommend sitting on the left side because that’s where all the animals are. And if you go later in the day you tend not to be squished in like sardines so it makes for a much bumpier ride as well as more animals seemed to be closer out as the day cooled off. For some bizarre reason (well the fact that I love to try new things) I went on Everest, even though I’m aware that I hate roller coasters. I figured however that I was in Disney and this wasn’t going to be a REAL rollercoaster. I was wrong. As soon as we started going backwards I never opened my eyes again and spent the whole time hoping that I wouldn’t die. Which I didn’t. I also didn’t go on it again.

I also spent much too much at Animal Kingdom buying gifts for the kids, but at least I got it done on the first day and didn’t have to worry about it anymore. I wound up having a margarita while I was there, which was amazing. It tasted stellar and was filled with alcohol, a win win.

That evening like every evening for the remaining days we went out drinking at the hotel bar.

Some Highlights:

• On one evening the Box Office Manager fell down
• On another the Director of Ticketing bought us drinks
• Various people were drunk at various times
• Cheese Fries
• I saw my co-worker make out with someone
• Wore my Mickey Ears often and occasionally with my sunglasses inside at a dark bar. I was incognito.
• I danced to “Wild Wild West” during karaoke
• I embarrassed the crap out of myself with 3 other people in what had to be hands down the worst rendition of Benny and the Jetts known to man considering that except for the chorus we were silent the ENTIRE time.
• I saw someone I never wanted to see again and he bought me a drink
• Drive by Chicken Wings
• I wore a lot of glow in the dark jewelery at the concert
• I climbed a fence and went into a bush for 4 inner tubes to use on the lazy river
• I managed to somehow network about a job prospect with a drunk friend of mine
• I met great new people and spent time with ones I already knew and loved

The conference was as usual amazing. There is no way to describe it unless you experience it.

I got to spend lots of time with my best friend which made it even more amazing. On Monday night we went to Downtown Disney for dinner, which was fun, but not nearly as great as Epcot on Tuesday night. I was a little underwhelmed by Epcot, but we seem to have missed a bunch of the rides and the Test Track closed as we were in line. We also waited two hours for the ride Soarin which while great was not remotely worth a two hour wait in line especially when we had a limited amount of time at the park. I had wanted to go on both versions of the Mission Space rides, but only had time for one.

I wish we would have gotten more time to spend at the countries, but I wanted to wait until dinner time and get on as many rides as possible first which we did sort of. The food was amazing. I ate sushi in Japan, had chocolate crepes in France and a drink in Morocco. The fireworks were spectacular and I started to get all sentimental and misty eyed during the whole thing. It was all and all a great experience even gulping down my Canadian beer (with the help of my FIL) at the turnstyle before we could leave for our shuttle.

It was a great and amazing trip and I loved every single moment of it, so much so that coming home to not being fed gourmet meals three times a day and having your room cleaned was quite the shock. I have to do these things myself? I think the reason the trip was so much fun was less so the amenities and more so the amazing people I got to share it with.