Friday, September 11, 2015


Today I feel very alone - the friend I often have breakfast with on Friday mornings is not available this morning and it seems like a long time since I’ve seen her. So I came home after bus route. I have plenty to do so that’s not the issue. Still grieving the loss of my closest friend in this area - stuff happened several months ago and our relationship will never be the same. It may not have been a “healthy” relationship but it was still one I could depend on to be a certain way - and she was someone I could call most anytime and chat about stuff - or listen to her stuff at least. Either way…I’m feeling alone.
Friends have been difficult for me - I’ve not ever had a “best friend” overall. I have “best friends” in whatever location I’m in at that time. As I’ve gotten older I’ve called them “closest friend” instead of best friend simply because best friend didn’t seem to fit. Maybe it’s semantics. But since the loss of that friendship I no longer have a “closest friend” - am working to build others but don’t see any getting that close. There is just no common bonds like what we had.
Some of my struggle with this is that I learned at a very very early age to stand alone - I left for boarding school in the middle of 2nd grade. I came in different from the beginning - had a cast and broken elbow complete with pins. Then coming in in the middle of the year…I developed early physically which resulted in the other girls in the dorm making fun of me. That wasn’t helped by the fact I still had to bathe with the girls who were not developed. Along with the physical development came an interest in boys who were definitely NOT interested in a girl as young as I was. At the age I was girls and boys still saw each other as having cooties. Of course, my crushes at the time were on boys older than me. On top of all that - I definitely hadn’t grown into my height - was all tangled limbs. All of that meant I didn’t fit in then - and I still struggle to find a place where I “fit”.
I learned to stand alone at my second boarding school in a new country as well - this time due to bad knees and much time spend on crutches. For a time I asked for help carrying glasses of water, etc. But a roommate - thankfully don’t remember who - told me to do it myself and from that point on I attempted to do it myself. I remember crutching down the dorm hallways with a mug of water (hot? probably at times) trying not to spill it. I remember standing at the end of the food line in the dining hall hoping desperately someone would offer to carry my tray for me as I couldn’t ask for the help. And I was still different - I had crushes on boys older than myself - they never looked twice at me and I wouldn’t have had a clue what to do if they had.
That ability to stand on my own served me well with Mike’s cancer - the hours spend alone sitting in the hospital with him - trying ot get him to do his therapy, waiting in ER rooms, waiting in hospital rooms. Standing up to the nurses and doctors for his medication - you can’t decrease that like that - you will cause him to have more seizures! IF you are going to decrease that medication it HAS to be done slowly. Why are you giving him that? What does it do? This one is missing. That dose is too low. (All this was done without any medical training - it was just my experiences living with him)
Sept 11, 2001 he was in hospital - in rehab. I drove bus that morning and headed to the hospital afterwards. He refused to do any rehab that day - took the attacks on the US personally because they used “his” planes - he worked for American Airlines. The tv was on and I spent the day in his room trying to get him to do therapy and eat. His depression at that point only got worse. After he died in March 2003 I was “alone” again - thrust fully into the world of single parenting. Having the boys was a blessing - forced me to get up and keep going- forced me to stay strong. and I certainly didn’t do it alone - physically I was but I always had my underlying faith in God. But I also carried unexpressed emotions that I still can’t name. I struggled for years with attending church - if not for knowing the boys needed to be there I probably wouldn’t have gone. (Thankfully David especially at the time wanted to be there also).
Remarried again now I’m content in my marriage - I know what choice I made and while there are things I struggle with in my marriage I’m content with my choice overall.
The picture of the lone solitary tree in Africa with a single figure standing under it always resonates with me - in many ways it describes how I feel.

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