I'm in a mood. Maybe it's because my Cubs just lost their consecutive third one-run game. Or perhaps it's because I don't approve of the movies TCM scheduled for Cary Grant day on Summer Under the Stars. (What? No Penny Serenade
Or maybe it's because I'm still pissed at my oldest friend, and I don't know what to do about it.
I love her so much and don't know where to put all these feelings.
Over 4th of July weekend, she and I had a great
conversation. It was lively and funny. I felt so grounded in the world because I was so connected to her. She's been my friend since Kindergarten, and our relationship is important to me.
During that call I confessed how scared I was about the lump in my breast. At that point I had 2 1/2 weeks to go until the mammogram and was terrified. She was comforting and loving.
Then I heard nothing from her. For weeks and weeks and weeks. I called and left messages. She never picked up.
I wanted us to discuss whether I should go to my niece's bridal shower. My oldest friend knows my niece and my sister, and how complicated my relationship is with the latter. And the mammogram and lump! She knows how, after going with breast cancer with my friends Kathleen and Barb, for me it's not a question of "why me?" it's "why not me?"
She's unemployed. It's not like I'm keeping her from anything. I'm just not important. This hurts.
Finally, on July 28, she wrote me a chatty email about how excited she is about her new phone. Now she'll be able to tell who's been calling her!* She detailed her ongoing medical issues, filled me in about her writing, and explained that she's had problems with depression because her doctor switched her meds.
I get depression. I know it's real, I know it can be debilitating. If that had been the end of her correspondence, I wouldn't be upset.
But no, she wrote absolutely stupid shit about me. How did I feel about the Cubs season being cancelled? REALLY? The Cubs season is in full swing! She asked whether I'm worried about going back to the office. Nothing about my niece's shower, nothing about my breast. Nothing relevant or personal about me. She doesn't care.
Then she goes on Facebook and posts something chirpy to a former coworker about how delightful
her life is, now that she's "retired." Really? With me, she's filled with self loathing because she was let go, can't find another job, and is unable to pay rent or make car payments. With me, she's crippled by depression and barely able to function. On Facebook she's happier than she's ever been in her life! (And too busy and popular to look at the six -- count 'em, six!
-- photos of my niece's bridal shower.)
Last week, her aunt died out there in So Cal. She texted me today that auntie's ashes will be buried in here in Chicagoland when "it's safer to fly.
" Oh, goodie! She's going to expect to stay with me, isn't she? Maybe I don't want houseguests from a corona virus hotspot, during Covid19. Maybe I don't want houseguests at all, since my den is such a mess.
Maybe I want to feel like a part of this relationship, and not just a sweater she only reaches for when she feels chilly.
I'm so angry. I'm so hurt. I miss her so much.
She's my funny friend. My touchstone. The one I went sledding with when that teeny-tiny slope still looked like a big hill.
Of course I'll forgive her. But first I have to forgive myself for being sooooooooo
fucking angry and hurt.
And, really, TCM. You couldn't give me Father Goose
on Cary Grant day? Cary himself said it was his favorite performance!
*This smacks of plausible deniability. She wants me to excuse her not picking up.