Girl, Interrupted
Took a stroll through a few of our automatically saved e-conversations and found a reminder of the broken link in our friendship and where it lies:
“Happy belated…,” “Sorry, I was…,” “I can’t talk right now but…,” “I’m here but I’m…,” and of course “… is busy. You may be interrupting.”
And then I had an ‘a’ha!’ moment. Shit is my fault. I’m to blame for the effect of your wavering presence. I possess a burdening characteristic — since my emoness turned green — of wanting an Oprah session when the pang strikes sharpest or joy hits an indecipherable pitch. I also choose how much and how long it stirs up my emotions.
My expectation of the speed and timing of your reach out, in comparison to my own stats when in your position, sets me up for disappointment.
Incoming message — a cheesy but goody cliche, “You can’t chase change anyone but yourself.”
Whether celebrating or mourning, I should start that process with or without someone. I’ll work on balancing my expectations so maybe then I won’t hurry up and wait for you.
