December 13, 2012

Angst-ridden Adolescence

Posted in Journey tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , at 8:32 pm by Reva

If you don’t like listening to whiney tweens/teens, it might be a good to stop reading now because I suspect I may end up sounding like one before this ends.  I’m having one of those situations that as a grown up I know I should just get over but for some reason my mind reverts back to my insecure youth. But I’m quickly learning that if I get something that’s bothering me down on paper (or computer screen) the answer comes to me, or if it doesn’t I still stop thinking about it.

I have a friend who I had considered a close friend.  She lived in another town, as most of my close friends do.  We spoke most days by long SMS conversations.  We’d give each other support and advice about things going on in our lives.  About two years ago she relocated to the town where I live.  She stayed at my house for three months while the settlement for her house came through.  We talked about all the things we’d do now we lived only 2 blocks apart.  We could have meals together each week.  We could go for walks together after work.  We’d try to work out the best place to become our “local” for regular Friday night drinks.  We’d go to markets.  We’d watch our favourite TV shows together.

When her settlement came through I bought her house warming gifts, and baked gluten free treats for her guests.  And then everything stopped.  I invited her for dinner – she was busy.  Her mum was staying (I know her mum, we buy each other birthday and Christmas gifts).  He uncle was coming to do some work on her house.  She got a dog and had to take it to dog school.  I took a step back and decided to let her settle at her own pace.

I went out and decided to join a community group, something we’d talked about doing together that she suddenly was no longer interested in doing.  I got on with my life.  Occasionally if it was appropriate I’d ask her to come to local events with me, things that we’d talked about doing in the past but she was always busy, her mum was visiting, she didn’t like crowds or she was broke.  We’d still catch up, but only on her terms, and only at McCafe, with our two dogs tied up next to us.  It was her 30th birthday early this year.  She’d done some lovely things for my 30th and I wanted to return the favour.  I asked her out for High Tea.  She was busy, her mum was here and she had to take the dog to dog school, and she couldn’t afford it, could we go somewhere else, like McCafe?

A few months ago she had severe gastro.  I offered to get her some things from the shops.  I had my head bitten off, if that’s possible via SMS.  I knew she was unwell and let it go.  I grabbed some lemonade, dry biscuits and a magazine and left it by her front door.  When she thanked me I told her that I understood what it was like to be stuck at home sick, and that even if you don’t feel like talking to anyone it’s still nice to know someone is there for you.

A few months later when I had my crash she didn’t repay the favour.  She asked me to catch up the following Saturday for coffee – because she had to go to the shops anyway.  In the past I would have dropped anything, but generally being in a better place I said no, I was unwell and it would be too much for me.  She asked what was wrong and when I told her there was nothing.  No enquiry as to whether I needed anything brought to me, or done for me.  A few days later she asked something again and I apologised and reiterated my previous comments.  I didn’t go into great detail other than I was too unwell to go out.  If I hadn’t had my epiphany about friendships I probably would have been really cut up about it but by now the behaviour was so prolonged I would have been shocked if there’d been any recognition.

Last Christmas we caught up for take away pizza in a local park where the dogs sat tied to a fence.  This year I thought it would be nice to have something a little less stressful – juggling wrapping paper, Christmas gifts, pizza and dogs on a park bench – so asked if she wanted to do the same thing but in my back yard so the dogs could be free to run and we wouldn’t have to juggle.  The response? I’m busy, maybe but mum will be here soon so it’ll have to be before she gets here.  I’d rather go to McCafe.

So suddenly the brilliant place I was in a few months ago is gone and I feel like I’m back to the insecure self I have been in the past, and don’t know why I’m there – I’m plenty busy enough without worrying about this stuff.  I feel I’ve been demoted to the McCafe friend.  I don’t want to go to McCafe.  McCafe have hard plastic uncomfortable seats that make me ache all the following day.  I can’t bring myself to reply because I’m swinging between being a softy grown up (“Sure, McCafe sounds wonderful.  How’s Monday at 5.30?”), a sooky anxious adolescent (“have I done something to upset you? Don’t you want to be my friend anymore?” – to which I envision the reply “well if you don’t know, I’m not telling you”) and the slightly unpleasant (“nope, actually McCafe sucks, especially for a Christmas celebration.  If that’s all I’m good for let’s just skip it”).

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