It's hard to believe that one could lose a friendship over caring, but it seems that's what's happening.
I last spoke to my friend Julie before Christmas. I actually called ON Christmas, but there was no reply. Nothing I was going to be concerned about, as I'm sure she was very busy. But as time passed, and I tried to reach her on a weekly basis, there was more and more silence. I left message after message for her, and there was no reply whatsoever.
Today, my concern for Julie finally crossed the line, and I contacted the State Police to do a wellness check on her. The police called me back and told me Julie was okay, and I was infinitely grateful.
Then I made the mistake of calling Julie again. I figured I'd get her voice mail again, but Julie picked up this time...and gave me what for. "Between losing the car, Kei having his tonsils out, and being pregnant again, I don't have time to be on the phone. I'm using up minutes talking to you right now! And then to have the cops call and threaten to come by? I don't need this, Rob."
Wow...and all I did was become concerned for her well-being.
This was a grand reason to blow an emotional fuse, and I retreated to my room to take Xanax, as I felt an anxiety attack coming on at full force. What's more, a crushing depression seemed to be rushing in on me. All I did was care, and I seem to be paying a price for doing so.
I guess it would be wisest not to call Julie in the near, or even distant future. She's married, now has a third child on the way, and simply doesn't have room for the likes of me. As with many people from my past, she went ahead and got a life, while mine is a stagnant existence with only medical disasters to chase. Any documentation with her as my emergency contact will have to be altered to show I have no one I want them to call. I have been, once again, shoved out of someone's life.
Oddly, my thoughts come around to the reasons I got a phone. The first was for family, of which only my father makes any effort to contact me. I called Stu and wished him a belated Happy New Year at the start of the month, but he apparently has other things to do; I don't count. Then there were all the doctors I needed to contact. Definitely need a phone for that. Another reason was the occasional friend whom I'd want to chat with.
Finally, there was Julie, existing in a category all on her own. She was even insistent that I be sure to let her know my number as soon as possible, which I did.
But now I seem to have a phone to chat with my father and doctors. That's it. Julie was the last of "the old guard," the friends I'd had since my 20s. Mush vanished the moment I had a crisis and needed help. And Julie...Well, all I asked during times of entended silence was that she call and say, "Things are crazy. I'll call when I have time. Love you. Bye." Heck, I was even considering buying her the same kind of phone I have, since the plan seems to be unbeatable. Alas, Julie has no more room in her life for me, and I won't try to muscle my way in at this point.
It shouldn't be a fight to be friends with someone.
If you'll excuse me, I'm off to do anything other than dwell on the fact that another friend has fallen by the wayside. Julie was the most important one of them all, and I somehow don't think I'm held in high regard on her end anymore. It's sad, really. She was one of the key reasons I fought to stay alive every time I felt those suicidal urges come along. Now I seem to be hanging around for my father. And when he passes, there's no telling hat I'll do with myself.