Opinions and events depicted in this post are solely those of Tinfoil Magnolia and Ms. Marsha and do not reflect those of her employer, husband, parents or anyone else in her life. These opinions stand as of this day and this moment and are subject to change on a whim. Names have been omitted to protect the guilty, so if you leave a comment we'll all know who you are. Complaints can be sealed in an envelope and burned. Thanks.
In 2013 I saw a side to people that I
hadn't seen before. And I didn't like it.
Despite my tendency to be a realist
about life in general, I usually give the benefit of the doubt to
people who are my friends. People I call friends, and assume call me
the same, well, I assume they are genuinely good people underneath
everything.
Regardless of political, social or
religious views I have always tried to keep friends who I really like
and believe are good people. Sometimes friends come from work, or
clubs, or common interests that you have. However this year, I've had
to reevaluate the meaning of the word friend.
Merriam-Webster defines the word friend
as:
: a person who you like and enjoy being with: a person who helps or supports someone or something (such as a cause or charity)
1 a :
one attached to another by affection
or esteem
b :
acquaintance
2 a :
one that is not hostile
b :
one that is of the same nation, party, or group
3 : one that
favors
or promotes something (as a charity)
4 : a favored
companion
Freedictionary online defines it as:
1. a person known well to
another and regarded with liking, affection, and loyalty; an intimate
2. an acquaintance or associate
3. an ally in a fight or cause;
supporter
4. a fellow member of a party,
society, etc
5. a patron or supporter: a
friend of the opera.
But what is a friend, really?
I've had a tendency in my life to call
most of my acquaintances friends. If I know them, have had
discussions with them or spent time with them outside the normal,
“hey, how are you,” then I call people a friend. Which does fit
one of those definitions, to be sure.
But I think when you call someone
friend, people assume a certain level of attachment, loyalty or
whatever that you might have with this person. They assume an
underlying relationship that isn't always there just because I use
the “f” word.
The difference for me was made apparent
during the course of 2013. I had an awful year. Awful. And please,
don't tell me how yours was worse, how mine couldn't have been THAT
bad, how I'm exaggerating, how at least I'm alive and I don't have cancer or flesh eating bacteria so it couldn't have
been so awful.
It. Was. Awful. It was a horrible,
scary, invasive, mind fucking year that left me sifting through the
rubble to find the lesson to take away. And I know people had worse
things happen to them and likely I'm being dramatic, but you didn't
have to live through the year I had so my point is, don't judge.
My stress level at work was through the
roof because I was literally doing the job of 2 people after my
editor left in early March. Literally. 100% of the job I already had
been doing, and probably at least 75% of his. I can't say I did 100%
of his because there were some people who helped out from time to
time. But it was rough.
It was a lot of responsibility that was
dumped on me with no warning. A job that I felt utterly unqualified
and unprepared to do. Every Sunday night for the first month or so I
sobbed uncontrollably knowing the stress that was ahead to meet my
Tuesday deadine.
I couldn't do the parts of my job that
I loved. I didn't have time to write and tell people's stories. I
didn't have time to take pictures like I wanted. I had to cut
corners, I had to use my time more wisely, I had to spend way more
time at the computer and way less in the community.
As a result, I had to listen to
complaints. I had to hear what a horrible job I was doing and how I
wasn't honoring the community/people's kids/churches/businesses/schools- fill
in the blank here- it doesn't matter really. Everyone has their “pet”
project that they want to see front and center whether it's actually
news or not.
I was blamed for not doing things that
hadn't been done in years, it was just an excuse. I was expected to just listen and take it and take responsibility for things that were mostly out of my control. But hearing these
complaints week after week, when I was sacrificing my personal life,
my well being, my time off, weekends, sleep and sanity for my job.
Well, it was hard. And it took a toll. Quickly.
I became snappy and irrational. I
stopped listening and began defending, something that I don't really
normally do in my life. I didn't have time to chat with people or be
friendly or open with anyone. It's not right but that's how it was.
What I did, how I reacted, the way I
treated people at times–I know it wasn't right. I know it wasn't
the way to gracefully handle things, and for that I am sorry. But I did a job for 8 months
that I shouldn't have been asked to do for more than a week or two. I
was under a lot of pressure, a lot of stress and a lot of crazy.
The way friends reacted to me...well,
that was nothing less than eye opening. Life changing. People who I
thought were my friends, who I had been friends with for years,
stopped talking to me. I was excluded from activities and get
togethers. They didn't text to see if I was doing ok. They didn't ask
how they could help, ask if I needed someone to listen, try to make
me feel better, or exhibit any forgiveness whatsoever for my
“transgressions” i.e. being in a bad mood. Sometimes they snapped
back. Sometimes they stopped talking to me completely. Mostly they
just stayed away.
I can't say that I blame them. It's
fine. But what was eye opening for me was the reaction of three or
four “new” friends–people I didn't even know or know well at
all before 2013 began. These ladies, along with my husband, kept me
holding on to my one thread of sanity. I couldn't have made it
without them.
Even when I was mean, even when I was
grumpy, even when I was crying and frightened and completely freaked
out or dramatic, these women made me smile, laugh, and feel like I
had people who were ok with me being crazy because, well, they were
crazy and dramatic and freaky too.
They showed up at my house with nothing
more in mind than, “let's get drunk.” They listened to my crazy
conspiracy theories. (which later turned out to be truth) They let me
smoke their cigarettes and drink liquor and cry, yell, rant and rave.
They told me when they thought I was wrong, and why. They gave me
solicited and unsolicited advice. They called and texted me at just
the right times, and left me alone when they knew they should. They
shared their problems with me, despite what I had going on, which
took my focus off my own stresses all the time.
These are girls, with the exception of
one, who I hadn't known for much more than a few months. Who I really
don't have much more in common with other than geography, a level of
crazy that doesn't fit in this town and a love of sarcasm.
I'm not trying to attack my old group,
but neither am I going to defend them. It happens. Perhaps they would
be better friends to others among the group than they were to me.
Maybe it's just because I'm so different from the rest of them, or
just some personal dynamics and loyalties that I won't get into.
Regardless, it has taught me a very valuable lesson on friendship and
the definition of that.
Because of things that happened in
2013, I have changed the way I look at most everything in my life. I
know and accept that there is only one person who will always be
behind me, that I can count on 100%. Husband always has my back.
Everyone else is a bonus.
I have reduced and deleted and blocked
people on Facebook who can't seem to handle seeing my personal
information. I have made time in my life only for people who I am
comfortable showing the real me and I have reduced my circle to
people I know can handle me. People who “get” me.
I still use the term friend to refer to
someone that I'm friendly with on a personal level, but I will admit
I've totally reevaluated how I refer to my “inner circle”
because, by definition, they are more than friends.
They are my girls. My people. My tribe.
I know that even when I move on, or they move on, I will still have a
tribe. A crazy, liberal, smoking and drinking, sarcastic and
completely inappropriate-for-being-out-in-real-society kind of tribe.
I love these women. And my husband. And
that's all a girl could ask for....honestly.
