Grief is a motherfucker.

I’m lucky really. I’ve never had anyone close to me die. I suppose that’s partially because I keep very few close relationships, even within my own family. I don’t have many friends and I don’t know my extended family. I don’t really speak with my brothers, and not at all to my father. I’ve had people in my life die, but never anyone I was close with.

Right now, I’m grieving. I’ve lost my best friend. She didn’t die, but she decided that she no longer needs me in her life and has moved on. It feels like a death. I have this constant sucking feeling in my center of my chest, like a black hole dragging all light into it. There’s no getting away from it. The hardest part is that she’s still there, living her life, but she doesn’t want to hear from me, and I must accept that.

Of course, I have to also accept my role in the deterioration of our friendship. We were extremely close, and for a time, I was possessive and greedy with her time. We got into arguments and I would get extremely upset when I felt like she was pulling away. That was something I did, and I need to take responsibility for that. We had several conversations about it, and I recognized that it was a problem and I fixed it. Ages ago. Still, that was the rational she used to dump me though. That our friendship was unhealthy.

Our relationship wasn’t unhealthy, but it was intense at times. Over the course of the last year, it mellowed considerably, but that wasn’t enough. She had already made up her mind and had started moving on by that point, and there wasn’t anything I could do to stop it.

This kind of personal rejection is tough though. It would be easier if it were a logistical problem. That one of us moved away or something. This is a direct rejection of who I am, and it breaks my heart. I’m suffering in a way that I haven’t since I was a teenager.

I’ve been depressed in my life, and this isn’t that. This isn’t a chemical imbalance in my head. This isn’t dark voices whispering destructive commands in my ear. This is a wound and it fucking hurts so bad. I wish it were just depression. That’s something that I know will pass. I’m not confident that I’ll ever get over this. This feels like a wound that will leave a permanent scar, if it ever heals at all.

And she’s still RIGHT THERE. She pops up on my facebook messenger as “active” whenever she looks at her phone and so I’m constantly seeing her online and I’m not able to say hello. I’m not able to say “Why did you do this to me?” and I’m not able to ask her to take some responsibility for the way she handled the end of our friendship.

Because that’s something that really sucks about all of this. She’s convinced herself that this is all my fault. It wasn’t. If it was, I would take responsibility for it. Lord knows I’m capable of blaming myself for things, but in this case, it simply wasn’t my fault. She told me what she needed in order to be friends, and I did the things that she needed. I worked on myself and made changes to who I am and how I dealt with her, but she still walked away.

I know that people are entitled to leave if they want to. I’m not saying she isn’t. But she could have done it in a less cruel way. She could have said that she needed to move on with her life and that the plans she had for herself didn’t have room for me, but instead she asked me to fix things, and then left anyway. She pushed me out, further and further, until we were barely friends at all.

It’s difficult, writing about this, because I don’t want to give too much information away, or go into too much detail about the specifics of how our friendship devolved, but at the same time, I really need to get this stuff off my chest. More importantly, I really want to tell HER this stuff, but I can’t.

I talked to my psychiatrist last night about it, and he said it was a bad idea to get in touch with her. That she’s moving on and that the chances were good that any outcome of contacting her would only make me feel worse. I want closure, but I know that closure isn’t really something that people get. There are always more questions.

I have to be strong and try and forget her.

I don’t think that’s possible.


I miss life-blogging. Specifically, I miss Livejournal, which still exists and has a thriving Russian community, but hasn’t been a viable outlet for blogging in the US for years. Ello tried to take a run at it, and nearly succeeded, but was too vague and scatterbrained to sustain itself. Like LJ, it’s still there, and you can still use it, but what’s the point if no one goes there.

Facebook, Twitter and Instagram are the prominent social media outlets now, and none of those are conducive to blogging. Youtube is an option, and it does seem to be a viable outlet for people wanting to blog (vlog?) about their lives, but that requires a certain level of comfort with yourself and being on camera that I simply don’t have.

I’m writing this into a word document, so I’m about as plugged in as Creed Branton on the Office.

I have a website, and it has a blog on it, so perhaps I should utilize that as my outlet. I don’t get much traffic, and the primary point of the website is to sell my artwork, but it could be a blog as well. Why not? I’ll give it a shot. I know I won’t get the kind of community and support that I had on Livejournal all those years ago, but those days are gone, and I need to let it go.

I need to let go of a lot of things. I think that’s a lesson I’m being forced to learn at this point in my life. Corny as it is, that quote from the last Star Wars movie really resonated with me. “Let the past die. Kill it if you have to.” That’s good advice and I should take it, because right now I’m holding on and it’s like trying to hold onto fire. It’s just burning me and it’s never going to stop until I walk away.

Luckily, I have a psychiatrist appointment today and it’s pretty good timing because I’m in a rough place right now. I’m also in the process of going off my main depression medication, and I think that’s probably influencing me. Either way, I’m struggling and it’s not any kind of fun.

In the past, I got a lot of flack from people for talking about my mental illness online. I have severe depression and OCD and bad anxiety disorder. I also have untreated ADHD. That’s one of the reasons I’m going off my medication, so I can go onto a new med for treating ADHD. I think it’s important to talk about mental illness. I know that I’m not alone in my suffering, but it sure feels like it sometimes. Hopefully talking about it will help create a place where people can find support and, at the very least, the sense that other people experience similar problems.

Writing has been difficult for me lately. I used to do it constantly, but then I stopped a few years ago and the task of getting that ball rolling again seems insurmountable. But I’m willing to try. Maybe getting on that ADHD med will help me focus on doing creative things. Drawing and painting and writing. I’ve got a bunch of unfinished novels on my hard drive and I’m not drawing as much as I should be. I bought a bunch of watercolor stuff that I’ve barely touched.
But again, I’m going through some stuff as well, so maybe I should cut myself some slack.

This wasn’t much of a blog post, but it’s an attempt at a start. I’ll give myself credit for this one baby step.