Different Friends, Different Hats

Maybe some would disagree with me, and I suspect that many would, but I think that the notion of a "best friend" at my age doesn't really make any sense. Of course, if you're thinking in terms of the one person who is closest, nearest, and dearest in your life as far as proximity, time spent, and knowledge of one another, the Boy definitely fits the bill. He knows (and will come to know) more about me than even my family or closest girlfriends do, I probably spend the most time with him, and when my day winds down to an end, he's really the one I want to talk to about the happenings of that day.

But when I think of my girlfriends, I realize that they fulfill different roles in my life. I don't think that means that I use specific friends for these reasons or even that they are limited. I guess all I mean is that the closeness of a girlfriend isn't measured the way it used to be. In some ways, it can't even be measured anymore.

I have girlfriends whom I have known for more than a decade, maybe more than 2 decades, who may not necessarily be the first person I call when I have great news. I have girlfriends whom I've known for only a few years who I find myself desperately needing to talk to throughout my week. I have different girlfriends I call for advice, to vent, to get excited with me, to calm me down, to be angry with me, to understand me, to correct me, to cry with me, to laugh with me, to lighten my mood, or to make me feel grounded.

When my cell phone rings and Paramore's sound fills the room, the Boy often says, "You're soooo popular!" As someone who grew up painfully shy and intensely introverted, sometimes it can bother me. I'm not some shallow person who has a million friends and the depth of a cereal bowl!

But the truth is, I've learned not to rely on one single person to define my life anymore, and I don't think that's cynicism, I think that's reality. Maybe even maturity. I know not to get offended when one friend doesn't get me or says something to offend me, because they are the one who challenges and questions me. I don't get disappointed when an old friend doesn't quite understand my point of view, because she is the one who shares a long and deep history with me even if we don't look at the world the same way.

Sometimes I look at girls who have the same 2 girlfriends in all their photos and I wonder if I'm missing out on something big. Have I let conflict rob me of true friendship? Do I not know how to be a friend? (I'm sure I have a long way to go in that department anyway.) I do admire those relationships, but I'm not jealous. My "best friend" knows me intimately and deeply, even if that friend might have a different face from time to time.

Drowning in my Cereal Bowl

I told a friend of mine that I feel like I'm drowning in a cereal bowl. I'm fully aware that my problem is a mere 2 inches of liquid, but I'm still drowning.

I have friends going through much bigger challenges and struggles... childlessness, illness, marital turmoil, financial instability. Yet I still feel like my world is crumbling. It doesn't make me feel any better to grasp a larger perspective. It matters none.

The past few weeks, the boy and I have been fighting often. One insecure thought begets another, and before you know it, I'm in a frenzy of worry and panic. I keep telling myself that the wedding is just the beginning, no matter what the Czar and Queen do to me, that there is hope. But none of this matters. I live in fear of what's to come, knowing it will hurt.

I used to think that this "worst case scenario" thinking was my way of preparing for the worst so that I could be pleasantly surprised, rather than hoping for the best and being disappointed. At the end of the day, though, this kind of thinking only breeds more and more anxiety for me. I know I tend to be fairly vague, so allow me to explain...

There is an issue on the horizon that I know will create a rupture with the Czar and Queen. I know exactly what is to come. I don't have to deal with anything right now. It's been quiet on the homefront, even pleasant. Quiet. But the thoughts of how I know this issue will rear its ugly head will not go away. I imagine the verbal abuse, the names, the lies, the anger. The pain I know I have to endure, quietly, starts affecting me as if it were happening now, because I know it will ruin me. It will crush me and ruin me and set me ablaze.

Then I start thinking about the wedding. I think of how they will be angry, they will cause a stir, they will show anger on their faces. The Queen will weep at the ruin that has become of her life. The Czar will scowl at the bastard of a child he's giving away. And because the Czar and the Queen can deflate and demean me like none other in this world, my wedding will be a heart-wrenching, painful occasion.

What some may not understand is why I stay. Maybe it's a desire to please that I still hold on to, but I honestly believe that leaving now, just months before the wedding, will only cause more of the same, if not worse, for me in the future. It is by no means an ideal alternative to stay, but as painful as it is, it really could be worse. It's not a matter of "how can they treat you like this" or "don't set a precedent" or "they're going to have to learn to accept things." None of those things matter, because in their world, I am the worst of the worst. I'm disobedient.

It's funny how American culture teaches so much about being your own person, making your own choices, forging your own path. I grew up that way. I learned to do all of that, and it stands directly in opposition to what they hoped and dreamed for their children when they came here. They had hoped that I would be just like them, only with more opportunity for success in fortune.

This is why I'm drowning. Sure, there are things that consume me now that seem so trivial to some people, and they don't get why it upsets me so much or why I bother. But it's not really about the milk in my cereal bowl. I'm someone who has been drowning for the past 10 or so years. And now I'm drowning in my cereal bowl at a kitchen table afloat on a raft full of holes in the middle of the ocean. Lifting my head now only means its the ocean that will steal my breath and not the cereal milk.

Under Czar Rule

The thing about being under the rule of the Czar is that the rules don't have to make any logical sense. Laws are not "passed" by any majority rule, and they do not need to be for the sake of the people. If the Czar wants it, the Czar shall have it.

To be married to the Czar means that you have to buy into the crazy, at least a little bit. If you didn't, you wouldn't be married. If you could get out of the marriage, maybe you would indulge the little logic you have left, but alas... what would you do? Where would you go? The Queen is as much a prisoner as the people, but she has just a little more power. Her tantrums hold consequences for them.

In our house, the Czar is prone to fits of anger and verbal tirades, particularly when the life he imagined for himself and his family do not appear. Growing up, the Czar had dreamed he would have doting children who worshipped the ground he walked on, hung on every word he spoke, and jumped at the opportunity to please him. When he found his Queen, he made promises to her of the lavish life they would live together, far beyond the lifestyles of anyone they knew. He showed her his dream of the doting children. How perfect their life would be! But it would not be easy. To establish your kingdom in a new land is not a small feat, and it would take years of hard work, blood, sweat, tears... sacrifice. But they would do it together. For their dream.