But it's hard.
Kathy takes the simplest things and complicates them. Because she doesn't understand what's going on. Example: I posted on Facebook that I was treating myself to lunch because that night was my condo association meeting "and those get togethers diminish my will to live."
Most of my 102 Facebook friends understood that I was being flip. Not Kathy. She wrote some long rambling comment about being with me in spirit and that when the weather gets warmer and and her "feet are firmly on the ground again," she will drive the 60 miles from her home to mine. Dear God, no! A woman with Kathy's cognitive issues should never, ever get behind the wheel of a car! Shit, she can't even remember when/if she received a package from me, or recognize a building in her own neighborhood.
I didn't say that, of course. I responded with "thumbs up" and moved along.
Two hours later she commented to me again, wondering, "Are we still connected? Why so quiet? I feel like I'm wandering in circles ..."
Oh, for fuck's sake! It's just Facebook. Pre-teens have mastered it. I didn't say that, of course. I responded with, "Scroll up and you'll see your original comment and my positive response. We're connected. All is good." That satisfied her.
My oldest friend ignores me for long periods. This month I sent her an article about Bobby Hull's passing. No response. I've tried calling her. She doesn't pick up and her voicemail is full, so I couldn't even leave a message. When we talked about this last month, she explained that she doesn't bother to listen to/delete her voicemails because every so often she picks up her phone and sees who called.
Never mind that this is childish and, I suspect, her way of ignoring the landlady who wants her to move out. It's also her way of avoiding me. She as much as told me she looks at her phone, sees it's me who is calling, and chooses not to engage.
Well, fuck you.
Instead she has been IM-ing all day with pictures of snow outside her window in Southern California. I responded to the first with a photo of the snow outside my living room window. I ignored the rest. This is inane drivel. Besides, I'm not a housemaid she can summon by ringing a bell.
Did I mention fuck you?
I'm being full metal Scarlett and I know it. Kathy posts incessantly on Facebook (11 times so far today) and comments when she doesn't understand what she's saying because it's the only way she feels like part of her old world.
My oldest friend gets so paralyzed with depression she can't respond. Or she knows she's making choices that aren't in her own best interest and I'll yell at her.
I want to be a good person. I try to be a good person. I know I come up short. But at least Kathy and my oldest friend don't know how I'm feeling. While my insides may be Scarlett, I'm working hard to keep my demeanor Melly.
