Lemonade
You know the old saying, “When life hands you lemons, make lemonade”? How little did I know how that would become a mantra for me.
The last few weeks, ok make that three months *grin*, I’ve been raging, weeping, depressed, empowered, and chagrined. And while in my deepest funk, I’ve discovered some really awesome friends that I didn’t realize I had. While they may all be chat friends, their love and support has been a boon when I’ve had a hard time considering myself worthy of anything. Sometimes I’ve wrote things on this journal, about myself, with the idea that maybe if I write it down, maybe I can believe it.
It doesn’t often work.
However during all this I’ve had two or three people who have stuck with me and allowed me to rage and whine and cry and who have never let me down. They have tried to get me to realize when I’m becoming obsessed with a pointless and fruitless idea or when I’m tearing myself down and apart. I owe much of my sanity to these courageous few. Their caring and support has been a part of me being strong.
Well a few weeks ago I mentioned how one of these friends also underwent a tragedy as well. He had his fiancee, whom he’s been with for four years, give his ring back and tell him that she no longer wanted to marry him, and promptly broke all contact. Once again it was the room to the rescue and we valiently supported our friend as he dealth with his loss.
Our friend was one of my confindants and I tried to give him back a little of the support that he had given to me during my weeks of crisis. Now that we both had this same loss to deal with our friendship deepened. We understand each other very well and discovered that we care very much for each other.
This was a shock to both of us, I had no intention of caring about another male for the next several years. Even though I didn’t want to be alone, that I loved being married, I still recognized that any attachment soon after this break up would be doomed to fail as all rebounds tend to do. But heaven help me if I can’t help it. The proverbial club has hit me over the head and dragged me back to the cave. *wink for those who get this joke*
Fortunately there is 3000 miles between the two of us, that alone will help keep things from going crazy, I believe in God, he doesn’t. (what is it with me and guys who don’t beleive in god, anyway…chuckle) He parties, I don’t. There are many differences, but there are many similarities. He’s my friend, and right now he’s my best friend.
I just shake my head and wonder how in the world I fell in love with someone else. I was serious when I said I wouldn’t settle again for just anyone, I have requirements that have to be met in order for me to get married again, so that at least is not a possiblity in this situation. However, my attachment is so strong that I’m willing to explore where this friendship will go despite that fact that I know it won’t lead to something permanant. It will also be interesting to see if he can handle caring about someone he can’t sleep with. However, we’re 3000 miles apart. I’m not expecting some faithful boyfriend on the other side of the continant. He’s my friend first and I expect him to look for someone a little closer to home. Our lives are such that the chance of us getting together are very slim in real life, so I will just enjoy loving him from across the country. Enjoying his conversation and enjoying his wit and imagination.
I will also shake my head and wonder at the lemonade that dumped itself in my lap when I wasn’t looking.
