I wasn’t feeling well for most of the day today. So when I arrived home from work, I made myself a quick sandwich and headed straight for bed.
I read for a few minutes, then I fell asleep.
Woke up and read for a few minutes more, and fell asleep again…
Then I woke up again… and grabbed my laptop.
I did all my normal laptopy stuff, checked my email, checked my Facebook, commented on a few things, had a quick chat with my kid (yes, I Facebook chat with my kid from the next room)… then I just sat here in bed, still groggy and tired, feeling icky, and realized I just didn’t know what to do next.
Didn’t feel like checking the news. Didn’t feel like blogging (at least at THAT moment I didn’t).
What to do… what to do…
So I looked up an old friend. I don’t know what prompted me to do this, it was sort of a spur of the moment decision. The friendship didn’t end well at all, she was particularly nasty to me, leaving me feeling used and abused, worthless, small. And as much as I would like to be able to say that I am strong enough to just move on and not let it bother me, the truth is that it really does still bother me.
So I Googled her, and I found her blog. And I read a few entries. And what I found was what appeared to be a happy, confident, amazingly intelligent (to the point of being obviously somewhat arrogant), self-assured person with big dreams.
And as much as I would like to be able to say that I’m thrilled to find, through her online presence, that she is happy and doing well, that she is engaged and has had another child, that she is still in school and working on a graduate degree… the truth is, I’m ashamed to admit… part of me was hoping I would find a miserable wretch.
Why would I want that? It’s a horrible thing to wish on another human being. And I don’t really wish that, but in a way it would be nice. Maybe I wish others had as hard of a time letting go of friendships as I do. Maybe, just maybe, I was hoping that I would find some indication, however small, of the tiniest bit of guilt over what she did to me, even though I realize, of course, that if any such guilt exists, and it probably doesn’t, it would not be evident on her blog, especially not a few years later. Maybe I had hoped that her ability to so easily and cruelly dump on a supposed friend was a character flaw that would come back to haunt her down the road.
Actually, I think that’s it. After she was so horrible to me I think I was hoping Karma would have bitten her in the behind. There is a little voice in my head telling me that someone like that doesn’t deserve to be that happy, that successful.
So now I sit here, still not feeling well, still sleepy and in need of massive amounts of rest, but instead of sleeping I’m thinking of her. I’m wishing ill on her while simultaneously kicking myself for thinking such horrible thoughts about a person who, despite how badly she may have treated me, deserves every bit of happiness and success she can find in this life.
I admire her for her strength and for her perseverance through the difficulties life has thrown at her. Through young motherhood and a failed marriage, the adversity she faces in her communities for being an atheist in the bible belt, the stresses of trying to earn a graduate degree while caring for young children… she is still plugging away and looking at the bright side of life. She still has these big dreams and she’s going for it; I have a feeling she will let nothing get in her way.
Yet I am also very much aware that a quick Google search of a person isn’t going to give me the full story, and a person who seems, in their blog, to be happy, successful, driven, and optimistic, may actually be watching his or her life fall apart around them in reality. Most people aren’t quite as honest online as I am. So my looking to her blog for insight into her life is really quite ridiculous, and I am fully cognizant of that, so why do I let it bother me so?
I think I need to admit that I have identified in myself a character flaw. Something that I need to work on. An inability to move on when someone has treated me badly, an expectation that those who have hurt me so terribly will suffer themselves at some point for the pain they have inflicted, and a tendency to obsess over the past, to keep thinking back to those people and situations that have hurt me, and to try and make sense of them, make them *right* in some way, or find a way to feel vindicated.
We all have people in our past who have hurt us; I tend to have more than most, unfortunately. Sometimes I think I would like to reach out to these people, see if a connection can be reestablished, heal those old wounds. But I’m always met with fear that those wounds will be torn open again, rather than healed, and I’m not sure I can handle that.