As difficult as this year has been...my "divorce" from my partner of 10 years, followed by a cancer diagnosis and subsequent surgery, nothing compares to the loss of a friendship. In 7 months, I have lost the two most important friendships I have ever had.
When you are a part of someone's everyday life, suddenly not having that feels as if someone died. It is a grieving process. As part of your defense, you try to remember the bad stuff because it is easier to be angry than it is to be sad. But then there are times in the still of the day when those good memories come flooding back. Maybe its because you caught the scent of the perfume they wore, or heard a song you used to sing. And then it hurts like hell.
Right now, I am still busy being angry about my divorce, so it doesn't hurt so much. I stay out of rooms I associate with her. I live in just a small part of the house where I cannot remember her every time I look at the couch she used to sit on, or the tv she used to watch. Everything of her has been removed from the house. I couldn't even do it myself, but my mother in her understanding, did it for me when I was recovering from surgery so I didn't have to see. Even though I am angry, and have reason to be, she was still my best friend for 10 years. When I see her now, it is as if I am seeing a stranger or seeing through different eyes. And it makes it easier.
Then I met someone whose connection with me spiritually and emotionally surpassed all I have ever felt before. Our connection was so strong that we could feel what was happening with the other one thousands of miles away even though we were not in contact. I would wake up from a nap, only to have her know what I had dreamed. One day, at work, I was having a panic attack, and suddenly, on my phone, there she was asking what was wrong. And she could bring me peace. She was my writing partner, my muse. She was my partner in ministry. I am a person who can only hold a ten minute conversation if I am lucky most of the time, but I could easily talk to her for 10 hours and it seem like minutes.
But this incredible bond had a dark side. It is wonderful to feel the happiness of the other person with such intensity, but the feeling the pain in addition to your own is overwhelming. Inside us both is a beautiful, kind spirit, but also a spirit that is scarred and bruised. When she would see my hurt, she felt it...and when she disappeared into her agony...I agonized with her. I physically felt it. I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. The agony of being so far away from her and not being able to do anything brought a sense of intense desperation.
The combination of dealing with this sudden menopause after the surgery and feeling the intensity of the emotional pain brought me to my knees. I cried as I have never cried. I prayed as I have never prayed. And that darkness went through our connection and back to her, thousands of miles away.
And so I tried to save myself by getting angry, by stopping the connection. And in doing so shook the spirit of us both. And now we sit so far apart...raw and hurt. I didn't know saving yourself was supposed to hurt so much. My friend is gone. And yet I continue to feel her pain. Knowing that I made it worse instead of better makes my heart bleed.
Someday, I hope to have my friend back. Maybe then we will be able to find a balance in our connection. I miss the conversations. I miss the laughter. I miss the creative and spiritual nature of us. We were a good team, especially in ministry.
The hard thing about being an emotionally crippled spirit, is that you are all walking wounded. There are none among you who is healthy. There is no medic, no doctor. There are just people with emotional limps, open wounds, and hearts who struggle to keep beating. You have to look at one another knowing that these people who are your family that you love so very much hurt as much as you do, and the helplessness in not being able to make them better can destroy you.
There has to be a way to love, and be loved, without hurting so damn much.
To my friend...if you ever read this...when the moment is not so raw anymore...let us heal. I remember the good in you, and it hurts so much. You are a compassionate, insightful, loving spirit. You have seen my spirit and know me. You have read the words upon my soul. I am sorry that my pain hurts you so much. It is years upon years of pain that cannot be healed easily.
I know that when people recognize the hurt in others, it can make them fearful of them. No one wants to be around a broken spirit. But there are so many broken spirits out there. I show my own, so they know they are not alone. Sometimes I think if I cannot save myself, maybe I can save someone else in getting this message to them. And I know that hurts you.
But I beg that God use this, these stripes I carry, and turn it into peace for someone. I created Whisper Creek as a place for peace because I know I need it so much. But there are times that I feel I cannot enter there. It is sacred, holy ground. I fear that with my blood I will taint it, so here I am.
I will heal as will you and I hope that when that time comes, you will connect with me again. I hope that you will meet me at Whisper Creek, and that we will find peace. Hopefully, someday, the rawness will go away and new healthy hearts will form and it will be better. And in your moments of quiet, when you sense me, I am there.
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