Friday, December 30, 2011
So even though I'm kind of in a place of nonsharing, I must share this. Staying busy HELPS me with my grief. It DISTRACTS me. It gets me OUT OF MY HEAD, out of my nasty thoughts and emotions, out of my pity party. You know what I've come to notice over the past year? If I want to do something with friends, 90% it is up to ME to get things going, invite people to do something, etc. I have always been THAT person - one who likes to get people together for parties big and little, one who likes to catch up with a friend over lunch. After our loss, I just want to say, WHERE THE HELL ARE ALL OF MY FRIENDS? I feel comfortable saying that here because by and large my "friends" do not know about this blog. But seriously, WTF. Do I have "dead baby plague"? Further, I want to say, on behalf of myself and everyone else who is facing isolation from friends who put little to no effort into the relationship, do people REALLY expect grieving parents to be the ones to put effort into maintaining relationships?!?!? I am not saying that losing a child means you get to just throw your hands up and let everyone else do the work in maintaining a friendship, but seriously, you can NOT expect much from people who are facing the most horrible thing imaginable in their lives. I, us, ALL of us out here, deserve to have friends who step up to the plate and make things happen. We shouldn't have to lose our friends on top of our babies, unless we are being complete jerks and ignoring everyone's calls for months on end and unable to emerge from our hermit-like state. Today I had a coffee date with a friend, one who actually puts effort into seeing me and having a real conversation with me, which was nice. I have a few friends like this, thankfully. But seriously. People know I teach, and they know I am on break for two weeks, and yet I can count on one hand how many people have actually contacted me to make concrete plans to get together. Two coffee dates, one lunch date, and one NYE party invitation. I am grateful for those four people and the effort they put forth. I really am. But there is WAY too much down time around here. (It doesn't help that my husband could care less about having a social life and puts NO effort into inviting people over or getting out of the house.) What really burns my butt is that I have had friends completely disregard my twins' birthday and subsequent party. And I mean, completely. As in they didn't RSVP no (it was regrets only) so we expected them, then they didn't show up, and then they never told me why after the fact. (Please tell me if you think I'm over-reacting!) I find that a really hard pill to swallow, considering anyone who knows me knows how difficult and complicated their birthday would be for me and how much I NEED the support of my friends and family. I know that the world doesn't revolve around me (clearly, and thankfully), and that everyone has their own personal struggles and even tragedies, but that is just ONE TIME the entire year that I think really defines for me who is a friend and who isn't. Even people who weren't included in their birthday party gave me cards, little gifts in memory of Elias, or just a kind word or hug letting me know they're thinking of me during this complicated time of joy and sorrow. I am left feeling a little abandoned and much confused about those who didn't. You know what's messed up? I'm kinda happy about this post, because it's the first time since my son dying that I've been able to get kinda fired up about something like this. That's progress in a way, right? I mean this is progress compared to, "I don't care what anyone does ever. Nothing matters. My son is dead, end of story." I am actually capable of getting fired up about people being assbags. I know people have their own lives, and I'm happy for that, but if they made little to no effort to be of any support to me this year or ever get me out of this house or out of my head for a while??? Well, let's just say I'm hearing what they are saying loud and clear without their having said a word. Which is pretty much the whole point. Silence speaks volumes, doesn't it?