The feeling I have at this moment is utterly tormenting. I have steadily been changing who I am as a person over the last ten years. That is what I have always felt I should do– evolve and grow. This growth came with some major failures and pitfalls, but I’m certain that I’m on the path that I need to be on.
After my birthmother experiences, how I deal with people changed exponentially. I couldn’t simply like or love people based on whether they kept up social pretenses or not. I don’t have the patience for naivete and blindness that I used to.
I still haven’t heard from the a-parents since my last entry. Not a word.
But today I also, after some heavy consideration, decided to depart from people that used to be important to me. It only just occurred to me that the sudden darkness in my placement experience made me less forgiving for people that supposedly know me. After a tumultuous time parting with blood, losing adults doesn’t frighten me.
I took a job with my oldest and one of the most dear friends a few years ago. That was a facade-smashing experience that taught me that people just change. I didn’t fault her for not being the girl I met in Kindergarten. I admired her for doing anything she set her mind to do. But it has bothered me ever since then that I didn’t care for who she showed herself to be. Along with those realizations is that fact that her best friends had “warned” me that working with her would be poisonous to the friendship. In retrospect, who knows how much of a collusion all of the calls, texts, and lunches to lament over our dear friend’s tyranny was actually just a way to shove me off. It worked…I was almost completely disenchanted with the glory of a two decade friendship. And I, alone, was the odd one out…not the others.
Whatever the circumstances, I never felt quite the same about her. As family members began passing on due to poor health choices, I began resenting her for not wanting to be healthier for everyone that loved her. This wasn’t isolated to her…my mother and other friends fell into this category for me. It was a hardline rationale: if you don’t care enough to sustain yourself, I’m not going to place myself in your proximity to be tormented by your deterioration. It made so little sense to repair and build with someone that would inevitably expect my unending presence to their emotional demise. So, I put comfortable distance between myself and people that I felt put their present wants over the inevitable.
I stopped doing things that made no sense to me. That meant no longer having “Hey, how are you doing?” conversations when I could complete the sentences that followed; it all became cumbersome and meaningless. Going and sitting in people’s houses when they felt like walking into chaos (screaming kids, animals, and clutter) was unnerving for me. I wanted to pull my skin off. Attending functions with people that I knew had foul intentions but were loved for putting up appearances also grated on me in a deep way.
Faking it no longer felt tolerable. My heart said “I love you, but I can’t do all the things necessary for you to feel like I do.”
And I still have close relationships with people…and they all understand most of my ways of being enough that we navigate each others’ needs in fulfilling ways. But in the last three years, I have definitely gotten a firm grip on what I can handle and what I refuse to. Unfortunately, that sometimes means that people can’t be salvaged from your past as you do what is necessary to survive what you’re going through.