I said it.
I have abandonment issues.
You know you were thinking it.
Or maybe you weren’t. Maybe that’s just me projecting my own insecurities. Perhaps that’s just one more thing I should bring up with Dr. Headshrink sooner rather than later.
But the point is, the train wreck I transformed into last night after saying goodbye to Loo made one thing very clear – I have abandonment issues.
I blame my mother.
OK, stop right there. Before anyone gets too bent out of shape – I’m laughing as I type this. I swear.
I only half blame my mother.
(Still laughing. Geez, get a sense of humor.)
I don’t think my mommy issues run that deep.
And anyway, we’re talking about abandonment issues here.
(Courtesy of onetreehillaccess.tumblr.com)
(For those of you One Tree Hill fans out there, you may now realize why I've always felt a special bond with poor misguided Peyton!)
While I will be the first to admit that I have some deep seeded fears when it comes to giving all my love to someone and having them walk away; for the most part right now – I’m totally joking.
If only because my post-goodbye breakdown last night was so wholly and completely over the top, that all I can do at this point is poke fun at myself.
I have a hard time with letting go. Always have. Saying goodbye to the people I care about tears me up inside.
Don’t get me wrong, plenty of times in my life – I have been the one to leave. And while that still sucks, it’s always a little easier because I’m the one moving towards something exciting and new.
Only twice now have I had to deal with the loss of a good friend moving onto greener pastures whilst leaving me behind.
Let me just tell you – I didn't react too well for either goodbye.
The first time was when an old roommate and (at the time) very close friend decided it was time for her to move 3000 miles away. I tried to be an adult about the situation, but inside – I was breaking. That goodbye consisted of me getting tanked at the airport (for the record – this was quite a few years ago) and turning into a tearful, snotty mess as she disappeared past security lines.
Pathetic.
I then hit up a bar with her most recent (and subsequently, also mourning) boy-toy (a good guy we had always been friends with, even long before they became something more) and continued to drink. Until my then boyfriend gallantly picked me up and walked me across the street to his apartment where he deposited me in his bed and let me sleep (and cry) it off.
I wound up staying there for 8 days. Which is exactly how long I had before my lease was up and it was time for me to move into my new place with my new roommates. I hadn’t wanted to be alone in “our” apartment (to be fair, we lived in the ghetto – being there alone probably wouldn’t have been so smart), so the boyfriend suffered through my impromptu move-in and unrelenting tears.
(Arguably one of the better guys I ever dated – the only exception being that he was kind of a total pot head, with an ambition and drive to match.)
Looking back on that experience, I can proudly say that I behaved a bit more appropriately when it came to my goodbyes with Loo.
An additional modicum of self-respect and dignity if I do say so myself.
At least, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
True, I had to fight back tears most of the day at work. And it’s possible that simply hearing her voice when she called to go over the details of the evening had me choking back on the “please don’t leave me!” plea's lingering upon my tongue.
But overall – I did pretty good.
I swear.
Laughing through the packing and repacking of her bags. Bravely throwing out last bits of advice and promises to talk and see each other soon. Fighting back the tears each and every time they threatened to brim over.
Until that last hug, right outside the security gates, when I could take it no more and began shaking beneath the sobs I was fighting so desperately to hold back.
Both of us hugging the other so tightly that I’m pretty sure passersby must have had some serious questions about our relationship.
Or maybe they didn’t. This is Alaska after all. People don’t spend a whole lot of time judging, or even paying attention to, the actions of others up here. It’s more of a live and let live state than you would ever really imagine.
At least, that’s how I assume we wound up with a nut like Sarah Palin as a spokesperson.
Badump-bump.
I pulled it together only briefly as she walked away – not wanting to cause a scene at the airport.
Been there, done that after all.
But as I wandered back to my car, all bets were off.
I was that girl sobbing her way out of an airport in the middle of the night.
When I actually got to my car, I had to sit there and let it all flood out before I could put the keys in the ignition and head safely home.
And today, I’m still struggling with the fact that she’s no longer just down the street for me to call upon for any number of needs or (mis)deeds.
Plus, I just realized she brought with her my spare key. The one I gave to her in case I ever locked myself out of my place and needed to be rescued.
(It’s been known to happen a time or two.)
And I might just be contemplating locking myself out now “just to see” if it would be enough to bring her back.
What do you think? That’s a totally reasonable request, right?
I’ve been reading a series of articles over the last few weeks about the plight of the single woman. Feminist driven, blatant agenda; surprisingly addictive and intriguing.
Especially for someone who doesn’t really consider herself a “feminist” by any means.
Despite the obvious feminist lifestyle.
(Damn you fate for rendering me single and my ovaries for leaving me childless! I never wanted to be a cat lady in the making!)
Anyway, one of the things that has stuck out to me about these articles is their emphasis on the intensity with which single women rely upon their friendships.
I am totally that girl.
My friends are my family. My blood. My reason for being.
And no – I’m not being dramatic at all.
I never do that.
But for real – I recognize how lucky I am to have such amazing friends. How lucky I have always been to fall into groups of women as an adult who I fully trust and enjoy being around. Without the backstabbing, and gossip, and general shadiness I tend to see in so many other female relationships.
And Loo – she is one of those friends you could literally trust with your life. Warm, and genuine, and sincere, and fun, and intelligent, and… amazing. Not to mention how “there” for me she has been over the last few years. Holding my hand at every single appointment, decision and emergency as my surrogate partner in all of this.
I’m pretty sure we left many a nurse and doctor questioning our relationship in that time as well.
Despite the Tourette’s-like proclamations of my love for the cock that seem to occasionally (and haphazardly) fly from my mouth in awkward situations such as this.
She has stood by me, and supported me, and been a friend to me when I needed my friends the most. When I wasn’t so easy to be around, and my vision was so singularly focused that I know I wasn’t the same kind of selfless friend in return.
Which is why last night, when I felt the tears billowing over, I tried so hard to hold them back. To wish her luck in this next big life step and remind her that I would always be there for her – no matter what.
I managed to do half of that correctly.
But the tears; there just wasn’t any way to truly dry them up.
Because last night, one of my closest friends in the world moved thousands of miles away from me.
And I have abandonment issues.
For which I only partially blame my mother.
I swear.
