A Reason

So, it finally happened. I finally had to spend an extended period of time confronting people who have turned their back on me or fell into silence. I didn't know where I stood with these people, not all of them and not really. I've been sick with anxiety about this weekend for a while now, but it finally happened and I'm glad it did.

Friday night was the hardest. I didn't know how to act, who still wanted to know me, and what I had permission for. I waited and watched and let how others behaved inform my moves. I'm a hugger. I'm a lover. I want to yell and run into my friends' arms and hold on for a good, long time with a good, hard squeeze while telling them how much I love them and missed them but I didn't do that to virtually anyone. I noticed who came to me and embraced me. I noticed who merely addressed me cordially. I noticed those whose behavior didn't change at all from what I remember. It was a hug from a dear friend and his kind, loving words that broke me. I knew he loved me. I knew he always loved me, and always would, and my heart was so relieved that I cried.

But unfortunately the ill mind doesn't know how to prioritize these things, and what kept nagging me was the cool indifference coming from those I loved, probably still love. I fell to pieces. I tried. I tried so hard not to. I managed to mostly make it back to the safety of the camp I was staying in, away from those who wouldn't understand and in the loving arms of those who have my back 100%. It didn't take long to compose myself and return to the festivities but I learned a lot this weekend.

I learned that, for me at least, managing my mental health takes a lot of energy. Energy comes from calories. When I'm on restricted calories (like, say, after a gastric bypass operation), I don't have as much energy to manage my mental health. Wacky fun times ensue.

I learned that I am worth more than just what I can do for people. I am relentlessly cruel to myself and if I'm not serving every purpose possible, I am useless and lack value completely. This, as it turns out, is completely unfair and untrue.

I learned that it's okay to need help. I'm used to being so independent. I lift the heavy things. No, I don't need help. Thank you, though. I spent all weekend apologizing for needing help because, you know, I was about a week and a half post-op and on all kinds of restrictions (which I did not faithfully adhere to, but whatever).

I learned that having a new perspective is really good for me. I fight toe-to-toe with the toughest people. No, I don't want to sit down and play nice. Not my thing, but you're free to do so! Getting to sit around while the fighting was going on and interact with different people than I usually do for longer than I usually get to was so nice, even though I was pining for beating up nerds. Even wandering the fighting area, casually fanning myself and giving hydration to my loves was fun in its own way. I got to see everything unfold, see their story from the outside. I never get that opportunity. Mind you, I still would have very much preferred to have been a more violent part of that very story but whatever.

Finally, I learned what is perhaps the most important thing of all: there very well could be a good reason for everything that happened to me over the last six months. I'm still working it out, and I don't believe that "everything happens for a reason" or that anything really happens for a reason, but what seems to be happening is that my life appears to be clearing out people that needed clearing in order to make more room for the truly good people who truly love me. I love so many people so much. It's easy for me to love. I just know that language, you know? Maybe it's time for me to stop spreading my love vertically and start expanding the love that I have. That feels different to me.

I hugged some people and I felt their love enter my broken heart. I cried more happy tears than sad. If I believed things happened for a reason, I would believe there is a reason for all of this and it's all because of this weekend.