I Refuse to Keep Being the Chaser

I have lived a lot of places.  That means I have known a lot of people, some of whom I thought were good friends.  It's easy to fall into this false sense of security when you live near someone and see them on a regular basis.  When you move away, however, it becomes painfully clear how one-sided most of these relationships were.

I've fought a long, hard battle (one I continue to fight) to overcome tragedies and pain from my past.  Letting people "in" is still a conscious choice; one I don't make lightly.  But what is the point of all this growth and healing, of letting people in and being vulnerable to them, if they drop me as soon as I'm out of their sight?

I've come to realize that even when we were "together", I was the one who did all the inviting and planning, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised it isn't any different now.  How are people content with this?  How is it okay to just drop people?  It's a sad commentary on the human state, our selfishness and self-centeredness.

Well, I've decided I am important.  I am worth people's time.  I have a lot to offer.  And I'm no longer going to be the chaser.  If you don't have time for me, I guess that's your choice.  And your loss.  I guess you might notice, but I'm not going to hold my breath.  That could take too long.

Cue the laugh track

I like laughter.  More precisely, I like to laugh.  But lately, laughter is hard to come by.  Driving home from a friend's house tonight, I realized how much I miss laughter.  Especially raucous, uproarious laughter.

We were part of a group of friends who used to get together pretty much every weekend.  We'd giggle well into the night.  We'd laugh until tears streamed down our cheeks and our voices were hoarse.  We'd laugh until our sides ached and our bladders threatened to explode (and sometimes did).  And then we'd just get silly, and every little thing made us laugh all the more. 

Where did it go?  When did my life become so serious and my times with friends so far between?  It's not that there's no joy in my life.  There is.  It's not that I don't spend time with friends.  I do (though not as often as I'd like).  But the silliness, the abandon, is gone.

It feels good when I laugh, though it would probably be better not to do it at inappropriate times.  I can't help it if the things that amuse me don't make sense to other people.  In fact, thinking back on some of those kind of moments makes me laugh right now. I mean how could anyone not find it funny when Mel Gibson, in Conspiracy Theory, has his eyelids taped open and is strapped in a wheelchair, trying to escape his captors?  I laughed so hard, out loud, in the movie theater that people gawked at me, prompting the hubby to shush me.

Is there such a thing as laugh recovery?  I think I'd sign up for it.  Or maybe a seminar.  It seems sense of humor is subjective, but laughter need not be.  I'm not sure where to start, but watching Conspiracy Theory might be a good idea.

New friends

Sometimes, just meeting people can make all the difference. 
We started attending a new church about three months ago.  We're planning to move down into the city, so we decided to find a church near where we want to live.  The problem?  It's a HUGE church. 

Now this isn't a problem for my husband, Mr. social butterfly.  EVERYone is his friend.  It's a little harder for me.  I prefer to pick my own friends, in my own time, and not have them foisted on me as "a good fit".  So, that's the stage we've been in recently.

Today after church was a meet the church event.  I'm not really a big fan of these as they just serve to single out the newer people in a more conspicuous way.  But we went.  Immediately the hubby found people he'd spoken to before.  Great.

We met most of the staff, and I did get to meet a few other ladies.  I wouldn't say there was a huge amount of chemistry with most of them, but I did find one more like me and we talked quite a while.  Will it be a fast friendship?  Who knows, but now I have people to say "hi" to each week.

broken friend(s)ships

When a friend decides not to be your friend anymore, it hurts.

But for how long is that person allowed to bad-mouth you to all of your mutual friends? I'm not talking about telling why the friendship ended. What I'm talking about is flat-out lies. And if I am an important enough part of your life that you still need to spend this much energy on me 19 months after you threw me out of your life, then why did you end it?

We've been through this cycle so many times that I can't even count, but this time, I don't even want you back. Is this harsh? I prefer to think of it as self-preservation. Each time you do this one more piece of me is broken and, frankly, I'm running out of pieces.

I thought that now that I'm into my 40s there wouldn't be so much grade-school drama in my life. I thought my friendships would be with adults, and that they would act like such. I thought we'd have friendships based on honesty, mutual respect and a desire to spend time together.

Instead, friendship with you is like a competition. That's just not what I am about at this phase of my life. I don't care if you got a new car (that you can't afford), went to the beach, or drink yourself silly every chance you get. I'm not interested in whose hair is blonder, who is tanner or thinner (though I am all 3).

I just wanted someone to hang out with, talk to, have things in common with. Even now that you've unfriended me, I miss you sometimes. Not enough to jump into that whole mess again.

But I strangely feel like I am stuck in a giant spider web you've woven with no way of getting free. Please, just release me.