Tag Archives: perspective

Robbed.

I could feel shock go through me. My eyes grew wide, my mouth gaped for a moment, and I asked him to repeat himself.

He did. He hadn’t realized I didn’t know.

How was I supposed to know? You haven’t spoken to me in over a year.

Tears came to my eyes immediately, but I quickly composed myself and focused my attention back to him. This wasn’t about you. This conversation was about what he was saying to me, about the life changes he was going through. And I could give him my complete attention.

A little while later though, my mind repeated the same phrase over and over again. Instead of your name, I kept saying “my best friend.”

But really? You? You’re my best friend? You? Of all people? You who left me without looking back? You who made one horrible life decision after another? You who deserted me? You who turned your back on the support I offered you? You who dismissed people who have always loved you? You who robbed me of the honor and blessing of sharing this life together with our other friends and family? You who I called brother unabashedly and proudly only to be tossed aside as if I were someone you knew for a day?

No. No, you’re not my best friend. ‘Friend’ is a sacred word to me and it will be reserved for those who care for me and allow me to care for them.

I have learned one thing within the past fourteen months: You are not the person I thought you were.

-Melissa

Letter.

To the fixers:

Maybe you don’t know what else to do, so you give a suggestion. Maybe my problem seems easy to you. Maybe you can’t relate. Maybe you see an easy solution and you can’t imagine why I haven’t seen it. Maybe I have. Maybe it’s not as easy as you suggest. Maybe I can’t do what you can do. Maybe your solution is just a step in the right direction, but that same solution is surrounded by obstacles in my life. Maybe I don’t need a solution. Maybe I don’t need you to fix this. Maybe you want to help and you want to take control and fix this. Breathe. Just take a breath and be here with me. This can’t be fixed so easily.

To the challengers:

I see my flaws. I know there are many things I need to change. I’m probably more aware of them than you are. You challenge me to have perspective. You challenge me to think in different ways. You challenge me to think passed this. I can do those things. And nothing you are saying is wrong. But you’re invalidating what I’m feeling. I’m in a vulnerable place and you’re telling me, “Hey. I know what you’re feeling. But stop feeling that. Because you haven’t thought about it in this way. You just need some perspective.” I am allowed to feel what I’m feeling. You make me feel like I’m bad because I’m feeling this way. Just stop. Just hear me. Empathize with me.

To the uncomfortable:

You asked me why I was crying. So I told you. So you made a face that said you understood. Then you looked away. And you looked back and talked about something else. You tried to make me laugh. You ignored what I said. I know you’re not comfortable. I know you don’t want to help me carry this burden. Then please don’t ask. If you can’t handle it, please don’t ask me why I have tears in my eyes. Please don’t ask me how I’m doing. Because watching you see my pain and then ignore it? That’s something I can’t handle. So if you want to engage in my pain with me, then please do. But if you don’t want to–if you can’t– then leave me alone.

To the distracted:

You heard me. You not only heard me, but you said all the right things. You are the closest I’ve gotten to feeling a bit of relief from the sadness inside of me. You have gotten my hopes up that maybe, just maybe, I’m not alone. But you are busy. And the hours and the days and the weeks pass by and you seem to forget everything I said to you. When you see me, sometimes I can see you still remember, but you’re hurried. You have to move on to your next task, your next meeting. You say we’ll connect again soon as you pass by. Or you are so busy and distracted that you never follow through. In any way. You don’t even ask how I’m doing. Either be one thing or the other. Either be my friend, or don’t. But do not get my hopes up.

To the listeners:

Where are you?

-Melissa

Space.

I have no motivation. To do anything. I sat down and worked all day yesterday and, you know what? I don’t think I got anything done. I also… I don’t know if I have anything to do. I have a ton of reading to do but I just can’t get myself to do it. I started reading one of my main text books and then realized my teacher would teach all of this…Why would I read it when I know I won’t retain it?

No worries, I’ll try again in a few minutes.

After this past week, I think I’m just bothered by busyness. I feel a bit thrown off just because my schedule was really weird this week. But also because I still feel like I’m not used to my schedule this semester, which is also weird. Maybe it’s just because this semester is so different from all of my past ones.

Last weekend was great. I literally just did homework for two days. And I remember thinking that being by myself for so long gave me the.. space I needed. I felt really good about it. But now I think maybe I just felt good because I got so much accomplished.

I’ve been by myself all of this weekend too but it feels different. As I said, I barely got anything done yesterday, mainly because I don’t understand an assignment I really want to get done. I’m going to meet my teacher about it so I don’t go insane so hopefully that will help. I just… I really want time where I don’t feel like I have to be doing something.

It’s not that I never hang out with my friends or anything. But, when we do hang out, they’re… very active people. Even when we’re together, we’re trying to get things accomplished- usually games. Like, how many games can we play before the night’s over? Which is great! It’s really fun. But… I miss just being with people. With no priorities. With space to just be. And I’m really okay with my new friend group- I actually like them a lot. I just… I guess I just miss familiarity a little bit.

I guess this is what I signed up for so I shouldn’t complain. I just wish there weren’t always deadlines looming somewhere over my head. If it was like that I probably would get really lazy really fast so maybe it’s better that they’re there. And I guess I don’t have to do my reading- no one else seems to. But then I would feel guilty. Plus, it’s hard enough for me to know what’s going on in class.

This is such a bad post. It literally says nothing and it portrays that I’m in a bad mood, which I’m not at all. I’m just putting off homework. So I’m sorry about that. But also, thanks for reading all the way to this point. That was very good of you.

Hope you have a good day. Ignore your deadlines for a while. Someone has to.

-Melissa

Missing you.

I couldn’t find the vanilla.

I knew exactly where it should be. I’d been down the baking isle three times. I wondered from it, up and down every isle now because clearly it had to be here somewhere.

A song came on the radio. The familiarity struck me even before I realized what it was. It was late enough that most people were in their homes instead of grocery shopping so the store felt peaceful. I sang the song softly as I wondered around. What had I been looking for?

Did you still listen to this band? Hmm. I never would have heard of them if not for you. I found myself looking for a drink you once got here that I’d never been able to find since.

Where would I be….How different would my life be…. If you were still in it?

I squeezed my eyes shut for just a moment and tried to picture calling you right then if nothing between us had ever gone wrong. Because I wanted so badly- I want so badly- to talk to you. And not to rehash anything or figure out what happened. Just to talk. Just to hear your perspective. Just to hear you. Just because I miss you.

Yes, even still.

But I couldn’t picture what my life would be like now if our friendship would have lasted. I can’t imagine it. It’s taken so many unexpected turns since I knew you. I don’t know if they would have been effected by your presence in my life somehow or not. I just don’t know.

But I do know it sure would have been nice to call you today and here your voice… I so much hate that…. it seems like a foreign concept now. I’ve… I’ve lost pieces of you as time has gone on. I so much wish I had never had to. But I… the person you knew no longer exists and the only memories I have of you… well, they’re actually hers.

The way you cared about me wasn’t fair, you know. The way you saw me wasn’t fair. It didn’t make sense. You shouldn’t have been so good to me. You shouldn’t have been so in tune with me.

Because now I miss you quite terribly.

And then the song ended. Something much friendlier came softly through the speakers above me, like the other song had never played. And no one noticed the change. No one felt like something so, so, so good had been cut way too short. No one felt an emptiness in it’s absence.

Except me, of course.

Now….where was the vanilla?

Missing you.

-Melissa

Close.

Sometimes, if you’re fortunate enough, people break themselves apart in front of you.

They twist their fingers into their ribcage and pull it apart, slowly. You can see it on their face; it hurts. The way their expression is disfigured. They way they don’t look you in the eye. The way they do….

But they continue.

And when they’ve finally gotten the bones out of the way, they reach inside themselves and they pull out their heart.

They take it, dripping with pain, with passion, with love, and they set it in front of you.

Oh, and now it’s your choice.

Will you take it? Will you share in their pain? (It might hurt.) Will you see behind the whys in their life? (You may wish you hadn’t.) Will you allow yourself the honor of seeing things through their perspective? (It may clash with yours.)

To come alongside someone is a blessing. A long, tiring, sometimes hurtful blessing.

Allow yourself to see what others see. To hear what they hear. To feel what they feel.

“If you’re not close enough to get hurt, you’re not close enough to make a difference.”

-Melissa