But you do, you all do.
I was full of ideas for today, maybe I’m just tired. But I woke up with a headache (copious amounts of Newcastle Brown yesterday might have something to do with it, admittedly) and in a subdued mood. Not a bad one. Just subdued.
I told my husband last night that next time he wants to invite his friend over (the one I used to think was my friend too) he ought to really give me a choice, a real choice and not “Oh thingy is coming over this afternoon hope that’s ok”. I’m not mad at him, he didn’t think it would be a problem, because, well, he doesn’t think about things like that. He is a carefree kind of guy, bless him.
I am not saying I will never be glad to see thingy again. I do admit this is my husband’s house too so, theoretically, he could invite whomsoever he pleases. I have also recently admitted that all the grief I have thrown at thingy was my own grief, caused by my own excessive expectations from someone who, apparently, as he says himself, is only capable of caring about someone when they are facing them. Someone I thought I was a better friend for than others he had (let’s face it, there re times I thought we were best friends) but it turns out he was only responding to me more because I was onto him more. Having spent my life basing my enthusiasm for people on the expectations I had of them (or being able to see their “higher being”, as some eastern philosophies would say) I was only too ready to do a profound mea culpa and realise I was hurting for and even hating (something I never normally do) people who had done nothing actively wrong to me: their only sin was not to care about me.
Having said all that, this is my house too, and I have always been extremely protective of my space. Being of extremely fragile disposition, even my bestest friends don’t get automatic entrance permits into it.
The fact that I admit that all the pain I went through during and after this made-up friendship was all self-induced, doesn’t change the fact that pain was had, and in copious amounts, and despite the aforementioned copious amounts of Newcastle Brown, having next to you the cause of that pain is painful (logic 1.01).
Which brings me to a day spent trying to face the fact that nothing productive will come out of me today, in terms of reading and writing. Also thinking that if someone is allergic to cats, whether you agree that they should be allergic or not, you try not to subject him or her to your cat, but if someone has emotional issues, somehow the general reaction is “well, they’re just going to have to deal with it”.