I got some news this past weekend. Some news that I reacted very poorly to. Proceeded to cry all day and throw tantrums with the pot roast in the crock pot, in fact. But I won't scare you with the details of that one... See my very best friend here in Arizona is moving away. To California, where I am from. Oh as a woman and friend I am so happy for her! She is getting a promotion and spreading her wings and flying off into the great unknown. She needs to, is ready for this. And when seeking my advice last week in all honesty, as much as I hate to see her go, I had to tell her to. For she needs to go live her life and find what makes her happy.
But the girl and co-dependent in me is really upset! And there are about 75,000 reasons why. Which I had to feel all of, allow my body to release what my heart and soul were overflowing with. For some folks just cannot be replaced. And I don't ever know if I have had a friend as loyal and easy to hang out with as she is. We met at work shortly after I moved here. Rival makeup counters in the department store standing right across from each other. We quickly discovered we lived in the same apartment complex and both had small little boy dogs. So of course we became friends fast. Luckily so did the dogs. She gets my cultural references even though she is quite a bit younger than I am, and I appreciate that greatly. My husband tortures her like a little sister and she is endlessly willing to put up with me, why I don't know. She hangs out with me, flipping through magazines and watching General Hospital, not demanding an agenda every time we get together. Letting me half-listen to her stories while I screw around on the computer. Only pausing occasionally to shout out an irritated, "Are you listening to me?". But our bond runs deep. See she was the first person I called when my head nearly exploded in writhing pain so bad I wanted to rip it off. She drove me to the ER and sat by my hospital bed, watching Seinfeld reruns with me for hours while I was getting my strokes diagnosed and treated last year. She even brought my puppies to the hospital to see me on my birthday. So no, I am not likely to find a friend to replace her. She is one in a million.
But as much as I am going to miss her my sorrow was oh so much deeper. Because I was taken back to a time in my life when I was the one that had those choices to make. When there was unknown, a life yet to be lived, and it was mine. I set out on my course and was living it...and then I got sick. Suddenly life became about survival, and it has never stopped. It has just been one big fat scramble to keep our heads above water since then. By the grace of God we have survived and will go on. But remembering, and feeling, how much was stolen made me cry heaving sobs all day, until I got it out of my system and could move on. Xanax helping greatly with that process. So yes, I am happy for my friend. She deserves this. And I will most likely find someone else to hang out with again, someday. But most of all I am glad that I have taken the opportunities in life that I have, accepted the risks, sought adventure. And I am not done, oh no not at all. But allowing myself to feel that sorrow was important. It is valid and real. Does not mean I can't pick myself up and put Humpty Dumptiette back together again. Just means that each crack that forms whose seam is glued back together, actually makes me that much stronger.
Thanks for joining,
Leah
But the girl and co-dependent in me is really upset! And there are about 75,000 reasons why. Which I had to feel all of, allow my body to release what my heart and soul were overflowing with. For some folks just cannot be replaced. And I don't ever know if I have had a friend as loyal and easy to hang out with as she is. We met at work shortly after I moved here. Rival makeup counters in the department store standing right across from each other. We quickly discovered we lived in the same apartment complex and both had small little boy dogs. So of course we became friends fast. Luckily so did the dogs. She gets my cultural references even though she is quite a bit younger than I am, and I appreciate that greatly. My husband tortures her like a little sister and she is endlessly willing to put up with me, why I don't know. She hangs out with me, flipping through magazines and watching General Hospital, not demanding an agenda every time we get together. Letting me half-listen to her stories while I screw around on the computer. Only pausing occasionally to shout out an irritated, "Are you listening to me?". But our bond runs deep. See she was the first person I called when my head nearly exploded in writhing pain so bad I wanted to rip it off. She drove me to the ER and sat by my hospital bed, watching Seinfeld reruns with me for hours while I was getting my strokes diagnosed and treated last year. She even brought my puppies to the hospital to see me on my birthday. So no, I am not likely to find a friend to replace her. She is one in a million.
But as much as I am going to miss her my sorrow was oh so much deeper. Because I was taken back to a time in my life when I was the one that had those choices to make. When there was unknown, a life yet to be lived, and it was mine. I set out on my course and was living it...and then I got sick. Suddenly life became about survival, and it has never stopped. It has just been one big fat scramble to keep our heads above water since then. By the grace of God we have survived and will go on. But remembering, and feeling, how much was stolen made me cry heaving sobs all day, until I got it out of my system and could move on. Xanax helping greatly with that process. So yes, I am happy for my friend. She deserves this. And I will most likely find someone else to hang out with again, someday. But most of all I am glad that I have taken the opportunities in life that I have, accepted the risks, sought adventure. And I am not done, oh no not at all. But allowing myself to feel that sorrow was important. It is valid and real. Does not mean I can't pick myself up and put Humpty Dumptiette back together again. Just means that each crack that forms whose seam is glued back together, actually makes me that much stronger.
Thanks for joining,
Leah
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