SERIOUSLY?  SERIOUSLY?  WHAT THE FUCK? 

So there I was staring down at my phone.  Reading the brief message over and over.  And over.

Why today?  Why at all?

It really didn’t make any sense to me.  Maybe I am reading too much into it (or simply reading it too much).  But then again.  It really didn’t make any sense.  And because of that, the weight of it didn’t immediately register.  I lingered for a moment.  Told hubby.  Texted my mom.  Got their respective responses and basically let it flitter out of my mind.  It was Christmas Day.  There was much celebrating still to do.  Toys to play with, Lego to build.  Snacks to nibble on; a dinner to cook and eat…

And, of course, the Doctor Who Christmas Special.

Do you have to let it linger?

The past has a sneaky way of creeping forward at odd times.  Sometimes it seamlessly seeps into the present.  And all at once you wonder, am I hallucinating, because all of it appears to be the same.

So.

There I was.  At school very early in the morning.  My dad had driven me, as he did each and every day that entire school year.  I was excited.  My PE teacher had encouraged me to try out.  And yet, there I was.  In front of them all.  While she told me I was “too big and fat” to be a volleyball player.  But you told me to try out…

I didn’t understand it at all then.  Part of me still doesn’t now.  But it is a situation I have witness be replayed countless times since.

Take a group of people (if you want to insert the descriptor “popular” and pretend the replay ends when high school does, go right ahead, but know that adults are just as cruel as children) – a clique, if you like – and introduce a new member.  Who may or may not fit the requirements.  They are allowed to ride along with the others.  For a time.  Until whatever purpose they served reaches its end or boredom presents itself.  Then.  Often in an alarmingly cruel and public way they are cast aside.

And that is how this situation with my so-called friend has left me feeling.  It feels very much like I filled a bit of time.  That the conclusion the situation reached really wasn’t something all that shocking if you allow yourself to acknowledge its predetermined-nature.  So this was never going to work out…

I would like to think that she is stuck.  Not sure what to do.  I would like to think that she is not as negatively intentioned as recent actions might suggest.  But I think it would be fair to say that I really have no idea where she stands, where I stand with her or why things dissolved the way they did.

However, I do know that sometimes things have a strange way of working out regardless of how we get there.

The following year I was awarded the MVP trophy, for volleyball.  And the brother of that PE teacher was my Math teacher that year.  So I’m sure Miss PE knew all about it.

All Good Things Shall Pass

Life doesn’t always go according to plan.  Plenty of people throughout history have experienced the need to reroute themselves or alter their ambitions.  What we need to do is remember that THAT IS OKAY.  And, while all good things shall pass, that doesn’t mean that new good things will not arrive.  Or that all good things shall pass at once.  Leaving nothing.  But a bunch of bad things.  It is always about perspective.  Sometimes that is all the change you need.

I took my sweet ass time replying to the text message.  But that was not necessarily my plan.

I needed the time to mull over my next move because I had yet to properly balance the situation.  I needed the time to think.  To allow my emotions to settle and surface.  To decide what it was I hoped to gain by responding.  Did I really want to re-embark on a friendship with someone willing to put things aside when there is nothing to put aside?  Isn’t that like scratching dried food of a plate fresh from the dishwasher?  It may no longer be there to talk about but you can’t unsee its initial presence and think to yourself, is this plate just as clean as if the food had not been there?

Life is sometimes interrupted.  The way a conversation can be.  And in that same way, on occasion, it can be difficult to get things back on track.  Sometimes those conversations never pick back up.  And so, they never finish.  And that can certainly leave a lot of unresolved feelings.

But it can also help us readjust our focus.  And if we allow that to happen, we open the doors to learning.

The events that followed my attempt at this reconnection have made me re-evaluate how I will approach such or similar future situations.  I will not simply dip a toe in before I jump.  I will be checking the weather, the temperature of the air and the water, the almanac (if applicable), and maybe run a quick survey or poll before I jump next.  Who knows!  Maybe there’s even an app for shit like that.  A BS Detector.

It is true that maturity can come absent of age.  As age can most certainly come absent of maturity.  In order to be honest, there has to be a certain level of maturity present.  Enough to fully realize the importance of the honest in that moment.

Sometimes I think people roll in shit for preservation.  Seriously.  I do.  I think people are greedy and obsessive.  And even more so when they think they have a good thing.  They will wrap themselves in its goodness, then roll in a pile of shit of the finest fecal pedigree to keep others from seeing it.  Wanting it.  Taking it.  But what they don’t realize or what they chose not to acknowledge is the odor they cast.  Everyone can smell it.  Sometimes you can see it.  Like the Peanuts character Pig-Pen.  On the flip side, there are times when there is no evidence whatsoever.  Of the shit.

And that can be, well, shitty!

But that will not deter me from keeping hope alive.

What do you do when the shine wears off?

The holiday season has come and gone.  And so has another year.

All the shiny balls have dropped.

And the Brothers still do not talk to me.  I wonder if I will say the same again next year.  My parents believe in their hearts that Brother Three has bull-headedness and conviction attributed to youth but also a kind heart.  I know that regardless of what has transpired between my parents and me – in recent or ancient history – they were and are good parents.  A lot of who I am goes to their credit.  And I would believe that any good parts of Brother Three come from the same place.

Brother Two did not make an appearance this holiday season.  He no longer holds any kind of veto power.  Nor can he use my presence as his excuse for not visiting.  My parents are disappointed.  But seem to have started to reconcile that they may only ever see him once or twice a year.  For lunch.  In a random restaurant.  Somewhere between here and there.

Brother One has a lot of explaining to do.  And a lot of fucking nerve.  Not sure where I am on that right now.

My so-called friend has really bummed me out.  She remains the only adult friend I have ever had.  And I know that she thinks I let her down a couple of years ago when I opted to pull my family out of the craziness and salvage my health.  But I didn’t do it to hurt her.  I didn’t do it to hurt anyone.  It was survival.  But what happened here is not survival.  She let me down.  Because she was not honest.  Because I think Brother One has more say in the situation than she let on.

However new anything is – a year, a relationship, a shirt – it grows old.  Because that’s how we learn.  Through growth.  But we seem only to realize it as we age.  And aging is such a human way to acknowledge the passage of time.

There’s a saying, fuck ‘em all but six.  But I do not plan to have a funeral.  Or to be buried.  Not my style.  I’m more of a dust in the wind kind of gal.  So.  I guess for me, the saying goes, fuck ‘em all!

Because I’m going to keep on dancing.