Breaking up with friends is hard

2 10 2014

It’s not often that I am willing to turn my back on some one. I was raised to believe in the goodness of people, that no matter what dark hole people may be in currently they will come out on the other side eventually. I think that I was wrong. Sometimes people get so wrapped up in themselves and fall in love with their darkness or sickness and it becomes who they are, and too often they love it or at least they love hating it.  I haven’t had a friendship break up in this way since high school. When that one friend who decided to start lying about all of us and be super weird and we decided to not hang around her until she stopped being an asshole. And then I have my childhood friend who I was sorta in love with became so catholic she lived inside the pope’s ass. And well I suppose that sorta faded out, there were a few shifts but it took me years be like,”You know what? I just don’t care anymore.”

This however is different. I don’t know that many people here in Boston, and I have a tendency to put my eggs in few baskets or one pretty quickly, and then I usually I’ll spread them back out a little maybe? I don’t doubt that being my friend can be exhausting at times, I freak out and think that my friends will be there for me, every few months, but I also hope that my friends know that the same goes for them, I’m here is all I’m saying-I’ll listen.

And I’ve got my share of problems, ptsd making me act crazy, I have a slew of irrational fears mainly about leaving the house, and being attacked again, and yes I fantasize about death waaaay more than I ever let on. However, I deal with my shit. Sometimes not super well, and I need people to be like, look dude you are not dealing with shit well-fix that. And typically I do. I know things that help me, but it’s really hard for me to form the correct rituals and habits, because I have also this really bizarre thing against them, even though I totally function way better when I am living a more routine life. I fear that routine will bore me (which it does), and that it will prevent me from being able to be spontaneous, (which is silly, because I have to like psyche myself up so much to leave the house and socialize that I need anywhere from a week to months depending on the nature of the event)  However there are certain people that I will pretty much do anything with whenever, because I always have fun even if it turns into a disaster, it’s usually a great story.

I’m rambling.

My point is, this (ex)friend of mine has ptsd also, and she doesn’t do anything about her it, nothing, but complain. She complains about inequality continuously, but never does anything about it. And yes I am very aware that probably a lot of that has a great deal to do with the fact that she doesn’t feel like she has the power to do anything but  complain, but I can’t handle being around that. Especially when I simply state something that had helped me in the past and I get yelled at for telling her what to do. She’s kinda an asshole, at the very least she’s acting like a huge one and doesn’t seem like to be stopping anytime soon, so now I’m done. I was going to text her the other day when I felt super lonely instead I wrote to captainawkward saying:

I think that my best friend doesn’t want to be my friend any more. I moved here three years ago, and don’t know many people. I’m introverted, have ptsd, and so does she. I still have a great deal of my own issues, but I seek help for them. She doesn’t. And it’s exhausting to deal with. But she’s also really funny, insightful, and kind.

She has really high defenses, and they can go back up at any time. It seems like perhaps part of our falling out has to do with my boyfriend, and her new job.  I think she thinks that I’m changing for him. I did become vegan when we moved in together, because he’s vegan and has been such for ten years. I was already mostly vegan because of how often we cooked together, so to me it just seemed like a natural transition. Especially since I increasingly felt ill after eating things like dairy and eggs. And we’re all very feminist, some of our views don’t line up exactly.
And it seems that when some one disagrees with her, her ptsd kicks in and tells her that this person isn’t safe and can’t be trusted. We were all living together, so it exasperated everything.(and she never cleaned up after herself and was a very inconsiderate roommate, and didn’t even try to feign curtsy towards my boyfriend)
A few months back she decided to start camming, and said that I would be good at it, she was debating on it, and I was high or drunk and feeling impulsive and just signed up, but never followed through. And yes in part it was because my boyfriend was less than thrilled. But really it comes more down to me, I don’t think that I would feel comfortable doing it. She did it though, she is a cam girl now, and I’m happy for her, and that she even said that it was the best community she has ever been a part of. And she kept saying how good I would be at it, even though I told her I didn’t want to do it. She kept pressing it on me. I know that part of it was also that she wanted to do videos with me. Which made me really uncomfortable. I am bi and so is she, but I’ve never really been with a woman, and I’m still figuring things out and I’m in a committed relationship, and she’s my friend. I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing that, not when she’s married, and we’re friends. She’s mentioned to me before that she and her husband would be interested in a threesome with me. Honestly, when she told me that it made me feel almost as if she was only interested in me because of the way I looked, just like so many guys.
Now we’re moved out and my boyfriend and I and her husband and her, each couple we have our own respected places. I tried reconciling after we had a blow out, and wrote a letter to her apologizing for how things went down, but also standing up for myself, but she wouldn’t even look at me when I was saying goodbye.
At this point, I don’t even want to reconcile I don’t think. I miss her really bad. But I don’t know what to do, I want to talk to her and figure out what happened, what it is that I did to become an enemy.
The more I think about it, the more I realize that she probably wasn’t a good friend. But then I think that a lot of that has to do with her PTSD, but then I also don’t think that’s an excuse for bad behavior.
Do you have any advice on getting over friendships that have ended? Is it just like any other relationship?
I know this was long, I’m sorry, I just don’t really have anyone to talk to about this.




She responded in such a clear frank way that other people had been saying to me a number of times that finally it clicked:

Awkward Mailbox

Sep 30 (2 days ago)

to me
 “You have to do porn with me because: PTSD” = NOT A THING
“You have to do (anything you don’t want to do) with me because: PTSD” = Not actually a thing.
Selfish assholes get PTSD, too.
Grieve for this the way you would after any breakup or loss, but this person is not good news and not a good part of your life anymore, and you’ve made absolutely the right choice in leaving her behind.
Best to you,
So yesterday I let myself mourn the loss and realize that our relationship revolved around smoking weed, eating pizza or sushi, and me giving in to being a bad vegetarian/vegan, then feeling sick (literally stomach hurt/problems),  her dying my hair whatever color she really wanted, and then cutting it, sometimes her doing my make up and making me remember what my junior high self looked like, watching drag race or some really bad movie/show. When things were good, when our relationship wasn’t so superficial we made art together and were weird together, and made each other laugh with inappropriate words, but that quickly faded away once we because roommates.  I don’t think that I have to agree with some one 100 % in order to be their friend. I don’t think that I have to believe all the same things, I don’t need people to bend to my will all the time, or agree with me, or be my clone. I want people to be themselves, I’m interested in other’s because I like them for who they are not because I want to change them or they’re exactly like me. If I wanted to hang out with an echo I would just find a cave and talk.  So yea I guess it’s over, and I’m okay. It took a couple of months, but now I’m done moping, because it’s been a year of rapid decent into darkness. And I’ve had a lot of darkness in my life, I don’t want or need my friends to pull me down. Friends are supposed to be there for you yea, and sometimes that means going into the darkness, but not to stay there, friends are there to help pull you out of that shit, they’re not the ones that are suppose to be dragging you back into it.

Marriage Bed

7 05 2014

Through the velvet darkness
Camels and cheap beer on my tongue,
Bring me back to pain
I turn my head but you grabbed me back


The weight of your fat body I once loved
Now grotesque
Crushes my breath
Vice around my throat
I’m forced to swallow


The warm coat of black velvet washes over me
I know I’m not safe,
But here, ignorance is bliss

The struggle and agony inside my body
Lifts the curtain


I see my hands bound;
A knot at every eight
The dearest brown scarf
Tiny woven diamond bulls eyes
A thousand tiny eyes
Witness my torture

A thousand tiny eyes
Know the truth
No black velvet to shield them
They saw all
Every tear, every plea


The darkness took hold his eyes
That were once so full of life.
Making me believe in evil.


A thousand tiny eyes
Stare stone silent shaming
A whimper comes forth
Why are you doing this?

Because, I love you.


The Circle

18 04 2014

When I was in seventh grade I was on the cross country team. Competition was awful, but running was therapeutic. Our practice was after school just like the football teams. There were four seventh grade football teams, and three eighth grade teams, so something close to a 100 adolescent boys in unstoppable gear. They were armored compared to my wind shorts and running tank.

One time a circle of them came up, surrounded me, closed in on me. They started grabbing me. I kept spinning and trying to hit them, scratch them, anything. Their suits and gear made it impossible for me to cause pain- they just laugh at me. I try to join in the laughter, pretending that I wasn’t terrified, but I could feel my mask slipping.

Other students stood outside the circle, some encouraging their behavior yelling, “get her”, some watching silently. I could see other girls engaged their own cruel flirting games.

Finally Ben Collins* came up and broke up the circle. He was big for his age and in my math class. He told them to leave me alone. I thanked him, he looked disappointed and asked, “Why do you let them do that?”

A shift happened inside of me that day.

* I changed the name to protect the person who did this. 


21 02 2014

This is a poem that I wrote for an online intensive that I did Called Digging Deeper Facing Self.  That was probably one of the best ways I could have started the new year, so now today I am trying to keep up with the good habits that I formed, even if it took a few weeks to get back at it.



Tall Piney woods
Sway full-bodied in the wind.
The shadow of steeples always near
The dull, low, murmur of the prison count siren.
A giant blowing into an old glass bottle


Day in, day out surrounded by walls
The forest
The church
And prisons.


Preachers and Teachers are my people
Baptists as far back as I know
Proud people
Godly folk
Not ashamed of the twang in their voice,
Or the Bible that nuzzles up with the gun in the glove compartment.


Poor wandering preacher
A young wife who left school to fulfill her duty
Two small kids: boy, girl
Three hostages bound by holy matrimony. 


How often was my father told to be a man,
As tears from pain welled in his eyes?


A small boy
Beaten, switched, belted, and probably worse.
Did Grandad quote scripture,
While he whipped?
Or did the demons of his past take hold
And his eyes glaze over
The way my father’s later would?

Did the churches know?
Were there whispers at potluck?
Is that why he fled?
Church to church,
Was help ever offered to the poor wife?
Or did she have to make the bed,
She chose to lie in?


Only the boy was beaten
But all were terrorized.


I wonder what advent was like in that house
What did the Christmas tree look like?
Did my grandma play piano and warble Oh Holy Night,
While my dad and aunt hung the ornaments?


Father was always warm on Christmas morn.
We’d eat the sticky buns my mom had prepared
Sometimes though I’d see sadness in his eye


He did his best to break the cycle,
I think.
Sometimes it’s hard to say that:
My sister, screaming, beneath his bare back
Him holding her with one arm,
And the ping-pong paddle
Breaking across her back.
Not all his demons were mastered. 


I was so young;
My fear was born that day.


But Baptists are if nothing else,
One’s to forgive (on the surface at least)
Recommit to God
Atone, atone, atone for their sins
For all have sinned
Fallen short
Wanting, glory.


You don’t have to be re-baptized
That’s not strictly allowed
Once saved always saved
Whether you like it or not


So one day in Paradise
I guess I’m doomed to walk
Side, by side,
The miserable manipulative Abuser
That created my father.