1st Position

That night was a hit. I had a great time and I hoped my guests did too. I was pretty certain everyone did. I may have had a bit too much to drink that night as happens when letting loose and enjoying onesself and I am pretty certain I pulled a muscle. How did I pull a muscle you ask? Well at some point during the night the wine had gone to my head and I was so taken back by what the “other me” had said to me that I went outside for some fresh air with my two best friends. Apparently at that point I thought I was an actual ballerina and proceeded to do an entire dance in my front yard called “You would not believe” I danced my way all across the front yard, doing third position, first position, high kicks and all while I sang a tune I made up in my head called “You would not believe” I am no ballerina and the song and dance were merely my way of expressing how hurt I was that I had been replaced.

You know that feeling? Whether it’s with a friend or the ending of a relationship or even a job, when someone has come in and taken your place? It hurts. Are they better than you? Do they have a better work ethic? Will they be a better friend? Will they love you better than I did? It brings a flood of emotions and for me, the way I deal with things like that is with humor. If I didn’t have humor a lot of my life would seem quite tragic. I tend to make light of lots of things. From death to break ups to the loss of a friendship. It is my defense mechanism. I am a compartmentalizer. That’s what I do. I put things in a tiny box on a shelf to deal with when the time is right. I keep moving forward and keep going because my world cannot change because I am in pain. All that feeling stuff I didn’t have time for, but I did have time to make light of it. It was my own way of dealing. Not the best method being it doesn’t really go away. Like the nagging cough you can’t get rid of.

My friends left that night and part of me was hoping praying that things would go back to normal. That they would remember how much fun we had together. They would see I was trying to extend an olive branch to bring us back together. I never quite seem to portray exactly what I am really feeling inside. I wanted to hug them and tell them how much I missed them. I wanted to ask where they’d been and why they disappeared from my life. I didn’t say or do any of those things. I made jokes, I poured drinks, I made them laugh and hoped they felt welcome, but I didn’t say what was in my heart. How many times do we let a moment pass by without being authentically ourselves. Where we let the fear of rejection or being vulnerable get in the way of what we really want or need? I had done that so many times before in my life and I had just done it again. I wanted to kick myself the minute the door closed behind them. I wanted to scream and say DON’T GO. Stay. Be my friend.

But I didn’t and once we said our goodbyes and the door shut I knew that could possibly be the last time I saw them. The last time we laughed together, the last time we would be together in that way. I was upset and I was sad, but what happens is those feelings manifest themselves into anger. A secondary emotion that masks the real issue down deep inside of us. I wanted to be mad at them. I wanted to make things their “fault” I wanted it to be on them and not me. In my head I had rationalized that I had done all I could. I extended the last olive branch and if it wasn’t reciprocated then that would be that. But when do we really know when it’s the actual last time? When is the last word, the last goodbye, the last thought, the last feeling really the last? Is the end really ever the end when you care about people? I suppose as with most things; time would tell.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s