One of the strangest things about my life is that I seem to have a propensity for strange friendships. I mean, don't get me wrong, I have awesome friendships too. I have friends that are fun to hang out with, friends that know the inner workings of my heart, and friends that make me laugh no matter what is going on.
But I also have friends that confuse the hell out of me. Fortunately I only get these about once every five years or so. They start out like normal friendships. There is fun, laughter, and bonding. They don't feel any different at first. And then one day the friend freaks out. The friend loses their freaking mind.
In the fifth grade it was Brandy Dewitt. Before Christmas break she gave me a blue jean notebook with my name on it. I spent the night at her house. It was lovely and then WHAM! we came back from Christmas break and she would no longer speak to me. I never figured it out.
In latter years the wacky friendships became easier to understand. When in the tenth grade, one of my best friends stopped talking to me, I knew that it was because she was depressed. She needed more than high school friendships to make her feel better.
And I guess that there has been the crux of all of my strange friendships, they all seem to need more than I have to give. I have often been ( and even now am) tempted to blame myself for this. There must be something wrong with me that I can't be the kind of friend that these people need. There must be something that I am missing. I am at a loss really. Because it isn't like these friends drift away. They suddenly and violently break away. They let me know in no uncertain terms that I am not giving them what they need.
The worst part of this, is that I have nothing else to give them, there is nothing else that I can do. I like these people. I consider them my friends. I treat them the same as I treat my other friends. ( And in my defense I have many great friends that I have kept forever and ever). I laugh with them. I talk with them. I do nice things for them. It just never feels like enough.
These friendships are even harder now that I am an adult. So many other things drain my emotional reserves. The kids are the center of my life. Randy and the family are my reasons for existence. Work saps me dry every single week. It is a struggle to even carve out a moment to breathe alone, but my true friends seem to understand this. They seem to know that every bit of my time that I give them means something. It means I love you. That time is time taken away from the other things that keep me awake until one o'clock every morning worrying. That time is a piece of me, a piece that I give because I want to. Because sharing that time with that person makes me happy. Because it fills me up on the days when I am nothing but a strung out grouchy mess of a Mom.
What am I doing wrong here? I don't know. But these strange friendships kill me.. they absolutely suck me dry and break my heart.