Cheating Material

I found myself in an odd and ‘slightly’ traumatizing situation. Long story short: I was accused of having an affair with someone’s boyfriend, who was a close friend of mine. Honestly, I laughed when I heard the accusation, because I haven’t seen this guy in person in well over two years. Needless to say, the friendship has ended and now I need to process. So I do what I always do: write poetry.

I’m the woman girlfriends are scared of

The friend of their boyfriend

Who they like more than they love.

She suspects that he wants me

So she loves him just enough.

Until she makes it a lot more tough.

I’m quite harmless, really

No crimes have been committed

Just long talks that were silly

No actions were taken

So why does he act so guilty?

It’s not like we did anything filthy.

I’m doing fine, trying to live my best life

But communication was cut

Now I know our friendship was a lie.

Gave you a chance, tried to act cool

But you just gave me nothing but spite

And that’s how I know that I am right.

Stuck in a love that’s imperial.

His girl censors his friendships

So her love becomes managerial.

What do I care? I’ve been here before

I don’t stick around for the friendship’s burial.

At least I know I’m cheating material.

Follow on Twitter @JoyPearson Instagram @this_joyful_life

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This is how a heart breaks

I lost my best friend today. I realize that makes it sound like he’s dead, he’s not, he just blocked me on Facebook so we’re no longer in contact. I lost him. In the worst possible way I can imagine.

It’s hard to be there for someone who doesn’t really want or need you there. It’s even more impossible to be there for someone who won’t tell you when they need you. I like to think I’m magical with my tarot cards, but I’m far from telepathic.

He’s struggling, hard. Lots of things going on in his life making it hard to slug through. I get that and I see that. I want to help him through that.

I’m a smiles come first kind of person. I love to make people laugh and smile, my name is Joy so naturally I work to pass along positive vibes, especially to the people I love. Being serious doesn’t come easy for me, because I learned early on that serious things often gave off negative vibes that I wasn’t happy being around. So when someone needs a serious conversation with me, they have to warn me beforehand so I can get into the mindset of taking someone seriously.

When people have serious conversations with me, I’m more often quiet and contemplative. I like to take in whats being said and process it first, otherwise my foot will shove itself in my mouth and I will make an inappropriate joke and then I’m the asshole. So it takes a few steps for me to participate in serious interactions and conversations.

When I see my friends struggling, I want to be there for them. I love and care for them too much not to want to help them through their pain. But this time, he didn’t want me to be there for him.

I can’t type out what exactly went wrong, because that’s a private and painful moment that needs to be kept between the two of us (and my therapist). I also can’t type it out because I’m not even sure what actually did go wrong. All I really know is that I wanted to be there for someone who didn’t want me to be there for them. At least that’s what I’m interpreting on my side here.

No one told me the absolute agony of losing a friend because you’re too there for them. My other best friend, Amy, held me as I sobbed about how badly I wanted to help him and be there for him, but every way I knew how to do that was upsetting to him. Amy made the age old, yet still very true, point that you can’t make someone want to be friends with you, and that if you’re trying your hardest and doing the best you can for that person and they make you feel unwelcome in return, than that’s not someone you want in your life.

And that’s where the agony comes in, I want him in my life. He’s my person. He changed my life after I graduated University and my life was spiraling rapidly out of control. He got me to go seek a psychologist, he texted me every day until I made my first therapist appointment, he listened when I was hurting and wanted to make it all die. He doesn’t know it, but he saved my life that summer. And now he’s gone.

You can’t make someone be your friend, you also can’t make someone stay your friend. It’s just so hard and painful that he doesn’t want to be my friend because I want to be his friend too much. It’s a form of rejection I never considered happening in my life.

My anxiety’s smoke is attempting to suffocate me, trying to convince me that I’m better off not being friends with anyone because I’ll annoy and bother and upset them. She’s obnoxiously whispering in my ear, “You’re unwelcome, you’re unwanted”. It would be so easy for me to nod my head and say, “You’re right, let’s fly to asteroid B612 and help the Little Prince dig up the baobabs.”

But that would be selfish and wrong and irritatingly stupid. I have other friends and people who love and care about me. I have many who welcome my love and friendship, they know it’s unconditional and I am there for them. I’m comforted knowing I’m not going to be all alone, but I’ve still got to go through this heartbreak.

I don’t think I’ve ever really had my heart broken before today. I’ve had nasty break ups, I’ve had infuriating girl fights, I’ve taken on entire university departments. None of those things prepared me for real heart break. Being cut off for wanting to be a good friend is the worst possible form of heartbreak I have ever experienced.

So in the words of Rob Thomas, “This is all I can take, this is how a heart breaks”

Ride the Wave

What do you do when your best friend isn’t talking to you? Well that’s gonna be different for every person in every situation. For some, it automatically means calling all your other closest comrades and letting the shit-talk commence. For some, it’s crying in a corner and saying “oh woe is me, I am worthless and the world hates me”. Then there are the real people.

The real people are the one who sit silently and wait. They contemplate silently their entire relationship with friends and reexamine where it all went tits up. It’s the real people who have to wait and grit their teeth with torturous patience as they dig and grip for any reason to wait and fix whatever it is they messed up.

I like to hope I am a real person. I think it’s cowardly to automatically turn friendships into battle fields the moment things get sticky. It’s easy to fall down that path and turn everything that was once beautiful flower fields into gnarly roots of dug up weeds as bitter wars are waged. I get tempted to curl up into a ball and cry. I often sob to my friends how much I don’t want to be this planet anymore, that I’d like to disconnect from society completely and live in my simple cabin in the woods surrounded by books and think about how everyone is out to get me and the world rejects my being.

But no, I aim to stay real. I go quiet for days, weeks at a time in contemplation as I wonder what happened. Then comes the real torture, the waiting. The patient waiting as you try to figure out what your friend wants and needs. The waiting isn’t for you, no. The waiting is for your friend; just because you have done your time thinking and contemplating doesn’t mean that they’re ready to go there as well. So you wait, let them do their time. That’s my challenge right now, waiting and letting them do their time.

So what can a person do while their best friend isn’t speaking to them? Well here’s what I’ve done:

-Organize my blu-ray collection by the Dewey Decimal System (it’s not as easy as you’d think. Or it’s just as hard as you think. Either way, it’s really hard to do).

-Stare at my completely stocked pantry and refrigerator and complain about not having doughnuts.

-Come up with the Canadian title counterparts to popular film titles (see my last blog post for the list).

-Rewatch Stranger things and pretend I’m not crying when Mike and Lucas fight each other.

I’m trying to come up with more productive, less pathetic sounding tasks to do. But you get the gist of it: Life sucks when best friends aren’t speaking to each other. But it’s real. It’s giving space and air when things have gotten too heated and rough for two people to deal with. It’s waiting the long arduous periods of silence in hopes that the next conversation will be the ice-breaker that will lead back to brighter days of laughter and inside jokes. It’s real because it’s love. It’s what friends do. It’s what anyone who cares for another person does. They wait and give the other space to breathe. Then, after you ride the wave and let time do it’s thing, you speak again.

Morbid Friendship

You ever sitting at a table with your greatest, most cherished loved ones at the end of a jovial evening when suddenly you are confronted with the realization that at one point or another, these people will disappear from your life?

No? Just me? Well I won’t let that stop me from explaining about my insane thought process.

I’m currently on the big island of Hawaii, having flown out last Saturday with my boyfriend, Alex, to attend my friend’s wedding. It’s been a beautiful week so far, my college best friends in the same place for the first time since college graduation; we’re (sorta) all grown up and we have our boyfriends to join us. We’re renting a house out in Waikoloa Village and having a blast exploring the island and getting ourselves into all kinds of shenanigans (such as discussing in depth the wines one should pair with human flesh and how best to roast our friend, Ian, on a spit).

Last night we all went out for dinner at Kamana Kitchen in Kona, a wonderful Indian restaurant with a perfect ocean view where we feasted and laughed and smiled all evening. Doc and his family joined us for the feast, nine of us all together trading off stories around the table and viciously debating the ways of the Dark Side in the Star Wars Canon. I felt so full of love and happiness for these people around the table, some of my nearest and dearest friends, people who I would take a bullet for without thinking about it.

Alex and I rode home afterwards, the island is dark with dotted lights of houses off in the distance. We’re driving alone down Queen Ka’ahumanu Highway, and I’m struck by a melancholy of foresight: all the people I love are going to die someday.

Everyone has this thought (or so I’m telling myself to feel better), we all know that life is temporary and fleeting on this planet. Time continues on whether we like it or not. But my anxiety ridden mind couldn’t help but fear for the impending days I’ll have to attend the memorials, funerals, and wakes of my beloved departed friends.

Mortality is terrify. When my beloved childhood cat, Tortie, passed away at the end of 2014, I become determined to avoid forming any more emotional bonds with animals for fear of enduring the agonizing pain that was losing my cantankerous childhood pet. Of course, this determination was easily thrown out the window, as my family had three other cats still around, all of whom owning concrete positions in my heart.

So of course when I suddenly felt my anxiety’s smoke fill my vision and I started thinking of distancing myself from friends, my common sense bitch slapped me across my face and said, “You’re a moron”.

Of course, I’m not going to suddenly distance myself from my loved ones and go hide in a cabin the middle of the wilderness (though that’s not too far from my ideal living setting….), But I’m still so terrified for the day I’m faced with the mortality of everyone I love.

I recognize that this is obviously a sign that I should cherish every moment and memory I make with them; that I’ll surround myself with love through these amazing beings. But the fear is still buried there…..

Okay. It’s time for the Bachelorette party. Margaritas will solve my morbid love of my friends…. Or make it worse….. Let’s see how this goes…..