RecedingMoonlight
Silver Member
Not sure what to do with myself at this point. My emotions feel like they're shivering in the cold, or bouncing off of walls. Not sure if this post is going to even sound the least bit coherent, but I'll try.
At the end of last April, my best friend snapped at me and cut off all ties with me. I don't blame her. I really don't. Her PTSD was just so, so intense and emotional. She had been dismissed and emotionally neglected her whole life. She wanted people to just hold her and be there for her while she cried and wailed in anger.
But I just couldn't do that for her.
Logically, I tell myself that this is true. I am far, far away from where she lives. We were friends long distance. On top of that, our lives were at different points - I absolutely had to get a job and finish my schooling. I could no longer afford to spend night after night talking to her until two in the morning anymore like we did as teenagers. She was asking for my attention almost every hour of the day, and made me feel guilty for being with other people. I made mistakes - I know I did - but she did too. I always acknowledged and tried to correct mine, but the fact that pointing out any of her mistakes and hurtful behaviors caused her to feel suicidal just...discouraged me from trying to express my feelings all together. My mental health was deteriorating as well - I grew depressed and anxious and listening to her distress, hopelessness and suicidal ideations constantly, and I couldn't keep sacrificing myself for her sake.
Emotionally, I feel like shit. I feel like I could have done more if I just got over myself and shoved my selfishness up my ass. "You'll never understand", she told me. It's true. I never will. But damit, I tried. I tried for years. Ever since we were twelve years old, with no concept of what the f*ck PTSD was, I always tried to understand. Tried to listen. Tried to disprove the wretching, evil voices of people who told her she was ugly and unloveable. For years and years, even if I didn't understand, I still loved her. And sometimes, I'd see a thread of hope. Just a hair, a fleeting, fragile thing, yet I clung onto it, despite being drenched in pain and sorrow. I never expected her to be permanently happy. Really, I didn't. I just wanted to see a soft light here and there, even if it was brief.
I just kept being thrown around. One moment, she said she cared about my emotional safety. The other, she'd throw a tantrum, making me feel guilty for not being home and on skype that very instant. One minute she wants me to be honest with her and to express my feelings. The other, she begs for me to not be angry and that she's so, so scared of me having any sudden emotion. It was like a tug-of-war between her disorder and her consciousness, and I was stuck in the center and I felt like my arms were about to be torn off. And yet, it also felt like my mouth was duct taped. If I expressed any pain, PTSD would grow and yank even harder, pulling both me and her down.
So, after she told me she had to "be brave and not reach out anymore", that was the last text I got from her. I never replied after that. I guess I won't go into detail of what the conversation was. But bottom line is, her anger made me feel so, so small and insignificant. I kept appologizing for things I didn't understand, things I never did. But I just kept appologizing over and over meekly as I was just faced with anger, despair and suicidal ideation. I felt so, so numb.
It's been almost three months since then.
So that's it. Despite all of my efforts, all of my patience, kindness, love and vulnerability for over 10 years, my friendship with this person since childhood just...crashed and burned. It was because of a lot of reasons, I'm sure. Lack of communication. Fear of expression. Fear of being threatened in one way or another. Fear of failure. Different wants and needs.
Even so, it hurts so, so much, even now, to know that I couldn't help her. Wherever or however she is now, I hope she finds someone that can help her better than I can. All I want is for both of us to heal. All I want is for her to know that even if I have to put on my own oxygen mask first, it doesn't mean that I don't care for her anymore.
Man. Life's a bitch, kids.
At the end of last April, my best friend snapped at me and cut off all ties with me. I don't blame her. I really don't. Her PTSD was just so, so intense and emotional. She had been dismissed and emotionally neglected her whole life. She wanted people to just hold her and be there for her while she cried and wailed in anger.
But I just couldn't do that for her.
Logically, I tell myself that this is true. I am far, far away from where she lives. We were friends long distance. On top of that, our lives were at different points - I absolutely had to get a job and finish my schooling. I could no longer afford to spend night after night talking to her until two in the morning anymore like we did as teenagers. She was asking for my attention almost every hour of the day, and made me feel guilty for being with other people. I made mistakes - I know I did - but she did too. I always acknowledged and tried to correct mine, but the fact that pointing out any of her mistakes and hurtful behaviors caused her to feel suicidal just...discouraged me from trying to express my feelings all together. My mental health was deteriorating as well - I grew depressed and anxious and listening to her distress, hopelessness and suicidal ideations constantly, and I couldn't keep sacrificing myself for her sake.
Emotionally, I feel like shit. I feel like I could have done more if I just got over myself and shoved my selfishness up my ass. "You'll never understand", she told me. It's true. I never will. But damit, I tried. I tried for years. Ever since we were twelve years old, with no concept of what the f*ck PTSD was, I always tried to understand. Tried to listen. Tried to disprove the wretching, evil voices of people who told her she was ugly and unloveable. For years and years, even if I didn't understand, I still loved her. And sometimes, I'd see a thread of hope. Just a hair, a fleeting, fragile thing, yet I clung onto it, despite being drenched in pain and sorrow. I never expected her to be permanently happy. Really, I didn't. I just wanted to see a soft light here and there, even if it was brief.
I just kept being thrown around. One moment, she said she cared about my emotional safety. The other, she'd throw a tantrum, making me feel guilty for not being home and on skype that very instant. One minute she wants me to be honest with her and to express my feelings. The other, she begs for me to not be angry and that she's so, so scared of me having any sudden emotion. It was like a tug-of-war between her disorder and her consciousness, and I was stuck in the center and I felt like my arms were about to be torn off. And yet, it also felt like my mouth was duct taped. If I expressed any pain, PTSD would grow and yank even harder, pulling both me and her down.
So, after she told me she had to "be brave and not reach out anymore", that was the last text I got from her. I never replied after that. I guess I won't go into detail of what the conversation was. But bottom line is, her anger made me feel so, so small and insignificant. I kept appologizing for things I didn't understand, things I never did. But I just kept appologizing over and over meekly as I was just faced with anger, despair and suicidal ideation. I felt so, so numb.
It's been almost three months since then.
So that's it. Despite all of my efforts, all of my patience, kindness, love and vulnerability for over 10 years, my friendship with this person since childhood just...crashed and burned. It was because of a lot of reasons, I'm sure. Lack of communication. Fear of expression. Fear of being threatened in one way or another. Fear of failure. Different wants and needs.
Even so, it hurts so, so much, even now, to know that I couldn't help her. Wherever or however she is now, I hope she finds someone that can help her better than I can. All I want is for both of us to heal. All I want is for her to know that even if I have to put on my own oxygen mask first, it doesn't mean that I don't care for her anymore.
Man. Life's a bitch, kids.
