Growing Up ...
Stacy and I don't actually know each other. I mean, we know each other through our blogs and via e-mail, but we've never met. A fact that should change next week, as she'll be in town, speaking at BlogHer. But for now, our friendship is purely virtual.
So how is it that when I read her blog, it's like I'm reading my own subconscious? I know we all share the human experience, but the timing is what astounds me. She's going through something right now and I find myself in a near-identical situation.
It's a friend thing, this situation. A friendship thing. A former friendship thing, I guess you'd say. I'm realizing, once again, that some friendships aren't made to last. Some friendships are parasitic. Which you might realize, and tolerate them anyway. But eventually, the day arrives when your spine grows a little stiffer and you wonder, "Why am I trying so hard to be friends with this person?"
It's always sad when relationships end, but life is nothing but a series of beginnings and endings. We're the ones that attach meanings to people and places and things.
Doreen and I were IMing earlier and I wrote, "I wish I could behave conscience-free sometimes. Not let guilt stop me."
Alas, I came factory-equipped with a conscience and I have the deluxe sport package of morals to boot.
The other day, I traded e-mails, a lot of e-mails, with another friend who is in very much the same place as me right now. She is one of those friends who will let me blather on about the same old situation. She won't tell me to shut up. She won't tell me to change my life. She just listens. Because she knows. Because she's been there.
But there's only so much blathering a girl can do before she starts to feel exceedingly selfish, and so I try to make it a point to divvy up the e-mail conversation so she gets a chance to unload, too.
I was feeling feisty that day. Empowered by passing the minimum mark for my 3-Day contributions, perhaps, the deep thoughts were spewing out of me like spit takes on a bad sitcom.
As the day progressed, I sent her a reply that said, "Not telling you anything you don't already know, darlin'. Sometimes, though, it's just good to hear it from outside our own heads."
Is it just the confirmation that we seek? Do we not trust ourselves enough to know when right is right?
And then, as the day wore on, I felt myself slipping into a funk. Was it chemical? I dunno. But try as I might, I couldn't seem to snap myself out of it. I was mopey. I was watching "Supernanny" and marveling that some parents are so incapable of raising their children. I know kids don't come with instruction manuals, but it doesn't take a PhD in behavioral psychology to know that it's not OK to let your four-year-old swear at you.
So maybe it's all just a phase, this past week. Maybe it's just one more molting. Maybe my new year arrived in July. Out with the old, in with the new. The latest new, anyway. There's always more "new."
Tomorrow should be full of it.