Friday, November 6, 2009

Grieving

I don't know how many of you knew this--I'm no longer working at Great Lakes--currently unemployed, as a matter of fact. I can't remember if I mentioned this in my other blogs or not--in a way it was a blessing, because it would've been much harder for me to spend time in Beloit during Dad's illness and everything if I had still been working. . . For that, I am glad. Mom is glad because she thinks I was stuck in a rut. I still remember when Dad told me he was proud of me for having a good job with good benefits, like I was finally taking care of myself. . . I don't remember Dad ever telling me he was proud of anything I had ever done before--I wonder now if maybe that was why I held on for as long as I did. At any rate, that part is done. I still have friends at Great Lakes, and I do not regret my time there. I learned many things, about myself and other people--I talked to a few people who became heroes to me because of their struggles and other things they've gone through that I only knew because I was there. . . So many things to remember and reflect on that I didn't have time to consider before, though I'm sure that's more because I didn't allow myself that time more than anything else.

Also, during that time I prepared for a mission, started working at the temple instead, had my back surgery, moved on to the University Ward. . . I grew a lot. One of my dear friends that I met through work (Amanda Jensen) said that I definitely have changed in the time I worked there--that I was visibly still angry and working on my grief at the beginning, and, well, that I'm not anymore. I don't know why I never believe myself that I'm getting better--I guess, in my head I still feel as stubborn and rebellious as ever. . . lol--it reminds me of when I'm tired and would hang out with John Wiltbank and would start being sharper with him the later it got--he never thought I crossed any lines, but I'm much more sarcastic in my head than I ever am verbally, so I would always apologize for everything, and he never noticed a difference. . . :)

So, now I'm living on the upper east side of Madison, just barely in the 2nd ward boundaries, impatiently waiting for the day I can go back to a family ward. I know I can change whenever I want, but I never really understood why I had to go there in the first place, and so I'm not sure I'm done with whatever it is I was supposed to do/learn there. So I'm still here.

This fall has been hard on me in so many ways--not only did we lose Dad, but, of course, any time you grieve it brings back memories of other grief--this October also marked the seventh year since Jeremy and Grandma Fairbank died. That's an episode I don't want to repeat--I almost feel as though I am doomed to; I don't know why October hates me so much! But something that made it much harder was that Lisa Wiltbank and Timothy Madsen (usually referred to on this blog as "Grant" to keep him seperate from the other Timothys in my life) both moved away this fall. Lisa went to Bloomington, Indiana, for graduate school, and Grant, well, he just left.

First, Lisa. She is one of my dearest friends--she helped me join the singles ward, she was my last true roommate (as opposed to housemates and apartmentmates). We got along swimmingly; she can always make me laugh, and, more than that, she recognizes when that's a good thing, and she uses it wisely. She's been my partner in crime for so long! I really didn't know what to do without her. Her leaving wouldn't've been so bad except she didn't do well out there at the beginning. My heart ached for her so much--I've known and loved the Wiltbanks for so long I can't imagine anyone not adoring her instantly--and I couldn't go take care of her. Thankfully, she came home for General Conference weekend and we talk often enough for me to see that things are going better for her--we're going to make it.

Now, Grant. He was the friend that I talked to about all my problems with--the one I talked to about my depression in particular. He understood. When he didn't understand the emotions by themselves, he was able to take my personality in context to my words and understand it through that filter. It's always been difficult for me to explain myself to others in that way--he made it easy. I've tried with other people, and sometimes they look at me like I'm from a different planet--I never felt that way when I talked to him. He'd been talking about leaving, but it felt like how we all talk about leaving--at least, how I do--we talk and nothing ever happens.

This spring he made it very clear he didn't expect to be here for another year, and that made it very real very fast--like I was scared to make any plans or even expect him here for my birthday because who knew when he would leave? I really rather panicked about this. Not so much about "Where would he go? What will he do?", much more selfish instead: "How could he do this to me? Why is he doing this?" etc. Until he gave me a much more stable time frame to expect this to happen (in the fall as opposed to any day), I was panicked. To me, it seemed he couldn't get away fast enough, and I personalize everything, so I was trying to figure out what I had done wrong. I remember when he was talking about quitting from Epic and how happy he seemed about it--when he actually gave his notice, he was happy. I had never seen him like that before, and I somehow didn't understand that it was because he had been so miserable here. To tell you the truth, that thought didn't cross my mind until he was gone and he mentioned it to me--he hadn't even realized how awful he had felt until he left (see email inserts below). I think I could've dealt with it well enough, but he didn't want to talk to me--didn't want me to call him, said he has "no privacy" at his parents' house.

That's about when October happened. I was OK until after the funeral--that's when the cracks of stress became apparent to everyone else, anyway--I practically scrambled away once Aide left. I had spent about a week and a half surrounded by family, and their emotions as well as the energy spent smothering my own feelings were overwhelming me. I went home to Madison, and promptly continued to stifle. I didn't want to worry Meghan or my family, didn't want Lisa to hurt for me like I had for her. . . I haven't been particularly social most of the year, but it got worse, to the point where you really did need to come see me to get me to leave the house to do almost anything. Grant knew what had happened--I did chat with him about it, and sent him the email about the funeral, and things, but. . . Nothing. No response, no reassurance, no jokes or anything.

Finally I used something Meghan was writing about for an excuse to call. I became frustrated after talking about that, probably sputtered a bit about not hearing from him, then hung up. Then I wrote him an email:


Thu, Oct 29, 2009, Subject: Blah

OK, already ready to claim the craziness. Ummm. . . I can't imagine that you don't already know everything I have to say, so what's the point? Blah blah blah, I'm sorry, here goes.


I know it's not your fault that I'm so upset and feel so lonely, but I am and I do, and I miss you. I know you don't want me to call you--I've been pretty good at that, I think--but without something else to take the place of our phone calls, I feel a bit abandoned. I know that wasn't your intent by leaving, I know it's not your fault that everything happened this fall, I'm not blaming you for that. I know you never WANTed to be an emotional support for me; I never considered that I was forcing it on you, either. I don't care what we talk about, teasing each other and discussing fantasy and whatever else is fine, I just. . . Oh, I don't know. What does it matter anyway? Isn't this prolonging the inevitable? You left, you're getting what you wanted--for the most part, I'm leaving you alone.


Why am I doing this? I guess a part of me thinks perhaps you'd want to have some idea of what I'm thinking and why I'm like this--whatever it is.


Somehow these things tend to take you by surprise, though I have no idea how. Living in different states doesn't mean a thing to me, what, friendships don't cross state boundaries? So your only friends are people who currently live in Utah? If I lived in Saint George it'd make a difference? You and I both know the answer to that--the whole different state thing is full of crap.


I'm sorry, it was probably a mistake to call you today (thanks for the input, though), and I probably shouldn't be sending this to you, but I am, because I'm just SO TIRED of it all, I could just scream. Well, inside my head or all to myself, anyway--hermitdom always seems to come off the winner somehow.


So I'll go hide now.



No surprises there. His response:



Fri, Oct 30, 2009, Re: Blah


I'm really sorry that you're feeling abandonded, and I admit that it is more than a little my fault. I realize that you were using me as an emotional support (something I was usually fine with, provided you didn't ask too much of me), and considering what happened after I left, my leaving was probably especially inconvenient.

Of course, you are right about friendship not being restricted to state boundaries and so forth (although in this case, my comment was more based on the distance than the semi-arbitrary dividing of territory; if you were in St George or I in Wausau, I would have commented more specifically on the distance). I seemed so surprised because I had thought that I'd established prior to my leaving (admittedly a few months prior) that things wouldn't be the same after I left, in particular that I didn't want you to call me.

It's nothing against you; I just really wanted a clean break from being in Wisconsin. I don't think you ever knew how unhappy I was there (and I can't blame you for not knowing considering I don't think I fully realized it most of the time). My need to get out of Wisconsin was at least as much of my reason for leaving Epic as was my need to get out of Epic. Your frequent phone calls were a major part of my life in Wisconsin, so having you call me makes me feel like I'm still in Wisconsin.

After your father passed away, I did think that I should have called to support you somehow. I didn't for two reasons: First, I really didn't feel I had anything I could say to you to make you feel better. Second, as you said, I felt you needed to get used to the fact that I wasn't going to be around anymore. I can't be your emotional support forever, so I didn't want you to rely on me too much during this particular crisis.

I think I've said enough about this. Again, I'm sorry for the feeling of abandonment, but I really don't know how we could have avoided it at some point.



So, there we go. Apparently, that's the end. He's still my friend on Facebook; I don't know how long that will last. Sometimes I wonder if this is more like my relationship with Heath--except that Heath was Jeremy's friend, that's the only connection I have with him, I thought Grant and I were actually friends. I don't like comparing myself to Heath. *sigh!* I don't know, I guess I'm just as disillusioned as everyone else. This wasn't supposed to be the point of this entry, but this is where it ended up--I'm too tired to fix it or lead it anywhere else; I'll write more later.