I used to think that in order to start over I would have to disappear. At the time, disappearing consisted of leaving the people and places I had always known. I couldn’t imagine a scenario where I’d be able to disappear while sitting still, but much of these past three years has felt this way.
At first my disappearance was uncomfortable. It didn’t feel like my choice. Something had happened to me, and because of that thing the life I had once knew no longer existed. The people who were every day characters had vanished. Sure, the pandemic had abruptly changed everyone’s lives, but my sudden need to sit and face myself after being on the run for years from my trauma inevitably cause a mental breakdown. I’m no doctor but I think the breakdown itself was caused by a few things. Drug abuse could have been a factor. I was abusing adderrall for a few years. But it was also the repeated experience of trauma while having a build up of unhealed trauma that I feel ultimately led me to a hospital with no exit doors for 2 weeks. They say that people are scared of the things they do not understand. I think they aren’t scared, they are just too impatient to listen. It has been my experience that people like to talk about themselves, I’m not saying I’m any different. But I’ve just found that when I broke down and needed someone, anyone, no one was there. I don’t know that fear was the factor though. I think it was indifference. I could no longer give to them, so my struggles became irrelevant.
So what’s the point? Why is this bitter, resentful, point of view coming up? Well, the point is, throughout the past few years I’ve become best friends with myself. And every so often I’m met with a slew of people from my past that “check in” or need something or are mad at me for some undisclosed reason. And to be honest, I find that absolutely fascinating. I don’t go on social media, I don’t provide updates in places where people can find me. I’m silently raising my son by myself. I’ve formed completely new hobbies. I’ve started and maintained a new workout routine. Hell, I left a company I worked for for 15 years and have now been at the new job for almost 7 months!
And you know what’s fascinated me over this last week? My former “best friend” calls me for the first time in months to talk for a half hour about what she has going on in her life since something happened to her where she could use my support. This isn’t the only person that calls me just to talk about themselves. And I’m not saying I don’t want to hear about other people’s lives, no. What I’m saying is these “friends” don’t even give me the decency of asking how I’ve been. Has it always been this way? Am I just now noticing?
Then if I move on to the guy that’s reappeared, I get a message first thing Friday morning, “Would you still consider dating me if I was struggling with drugs?” How does a person respond to that? “Well, I’m completely sober, like haven’t even had a drink in over 2 years sober, so I’m not sure that we’d be compatible?” It’s just so strange. Have things always been this way?
Then I had my only family that lives close by reach out to try to get together soon. But I just can’t seem to want to put in the effort. All of the failures seem to keep popping in my head, “Where were you all the times I needed you”, “This isn’t what family means to me”, “Just because you’re blood doesn’t mean I have to do anything”. I just keep replaying all the times they would pressure me when I was already drowning in responsibility with no support. They don’t even know me. It feels like no one does.
That’s the thing of it all. I disappeared, I found myself. Before I was just flailing, hoping desperately to find someone to help me. Now that I’ve put myself back together, I’ve found the things I love. I put me first even when it feels uncomfortable. I love my own company. Sometimes I do get sad for myself though. Like today, when I met someone so nice when I was out shopping. “Why can’t I have more friends like that.” Who knows, maybe I can. One day. Maybe that’s the reason I had to go away and be with myself for so long. I had to realize what I think my time is worth. I had to put a value on myself. And it sure isn’t going to be with any friendship, family relationship, romantic partner that isnt reciprocal. I think what these people from my past haven’t fully realized yet is that the person I once was is never coming back. She left, disappeared somewhere inside of me. Now I’ve re-emerged, finally someone who loves myself for the first time. To them, I’m sure it’s confusing.
The Girl Without A Face 