I woke up just a couple hours before my alarm this morning. I love when that happens, it feels like a present. Extra time to do what I want to fill in the gap. When I opened my eyes, my first thought was to see if I could find my old friends sister on Facebook messenger. We were never friends, but he never responded to my messages last week. To talk to her, try to get my Grandma’s jewelry back. I can’t explain why it feels vitally important.
So I found her on Facebook, I knew enough to know that she split up her first name into two. She wasn’t using her last name there. Obviously trying to not be found but failing if I’m staring at her picture. “There she is”, I thought. I feel like a stalker even though I’ve kept to myself for the better part of two years. The only place I post is here, and I do that anonymously. No one knows what I’m doing nor do they care, and vice versa quite frankly. I have a lot of work to do over here. But still, it’s taken a lot of work to get me here. The courage to be vulnerable. Something I’ve always feared.
I put my phone down and I was already wide awake. I still have two hours to go before I have to start my day. I was about to get out of my bed, brew the coffee, but I hesitate, “Why am I forcing myself to go on with these torturous thoughts by delaying sending this message?” I know what I want to say, I’ve already written it in my head. She was always so sweet, the reasonable one in the family. I picked my phone back up and started writing. I first wanted her to know that I’m aware I had a mental breakdown. I let her know and gave her a slight insight into what I had been dealing with to get me there. I told her I’d offer her money to put in the kids college funds, whatever she thought was fair. I just want my Grandma’s jewelry back, and it took me two years to move past the shame to be able to ask.
I sent the message without re-reading it so I didn’t lose my nerve. I got up, started my morning early. Started contemplating of course. There was a lot of anger and resentment that I held onto towards my old friend that I’ve been trying to move past recently. I felt he took advantage of me. He was the one who supplied me Adderall. He was a bad influence on me. The truth is he’s a bad influence on himself. He used to steal from stores and come back to the house. He would pick me up something in the process. An oxymoron really, a thoughtful thief. It made me so uncomfortable to have him in the house, yet he was someone I knew since I was 5. Another time where I thought, “He does these things, but he’ll never do that to me.” But of course he would take advantage of my kindness, of course he wouldn’t pay rent when I asked him. When I was in the hospital my one friend thats stuck by my side got him to get out. He said, “You know I could stay there if I wanted to.” And you know what’s scary, he could’ve. I didn’t realize it but he could’ve made my life an even bigger hell and he knew it. Maybe some part of him justifies the bad things he does by knowing he could choose to do worse.
It was very volatile when he first moved out because of that. I didn’t trust that he wouldn’t touch my things. I had to have my friend there for support so he could finally get the rest of his stuff he kept in my basement. Months passed and thats when he reached out. I wanted to die, he was just ready to cash in on his storage locker. Can I blame him for living this way? Do I really expect someone who’s couch surfing to have the capability to care for me differently? Perhaps, this is the impossible love I always craved.
Its always bothered me that I gave away that jewelry. Once I got my mind back of course. At the time that I gave it away I suppose I thought giving it away would bring me unconditional love in return. My mind was a mess. After the hospital, I wrote a poem about how betrayed I felt by him. “Brutus” it was called. It even spoke about my Grandma’s jewelry. I guess the harsh truth is the anger and resentment I’ve held towards him for the past two years is really anger and resentment towards myself for allowing all of this. For being taken advantage of. For giving away something so valuable. What is wrong with me that I could do that? Sadly, that’s how badly I wanted to be loved.
I’m starting to see that the point of me reaching out is not even necessarily to get these items back in my possession. That would be a great victory. But as they say, the journey is the reward. The lesson. I’m starting to be able to accept people for who they are and what they are capable of. I would never expect more of them now. I used to live in a fairy tale. What I will do from now on is hold myself accountable. Realize that the negative feelings that I have for someone else are probably feelings that I have for myself inside. It’s funny, because after all this time spent healing you would think it would be easy to identify and spot. It would be like an assembly line, it would work smoothly and seamlessly. Efficient in its resolution. But that’s not life. Sometimes it takes weeks to build. You have to learn to not turn away from it. You have to get curious and ask questions. You have to evaluate how you feel after you do something. It can be exhausting. I’m starting to think that if you do all of those things the lessons will always become clear. Sometimes it takes weeks. Sometimes months. Sometimes years. I think over time you get better at it. If you’re listening that is.
The longer you ignore your intuition, the longer you sit at the starting line. My hope is that my gut is telling me to send these messages for a reason. It could be for me to finally have a resolution. It could be for something I don’t know yet. But all I know is that it’s on my mind and I could no longer ignore it. I have to have the courage to say the things that have been left unsaid even if my words are met with silence.
The Girl Without A Face 