Wonderful Friends

from the Wine Guys

 I am finally getting pastoral care from my church and my friends have rallied around, showing that they are here to walk with me till the end (even though they might get FUCKING BORED because it's so FUCKING BORING to be waiting for the Reaper.

Anyway, I was thinking about when I launched my book Sentenced to Venice two years ago.  I want to get back to working with it soon.  Promotion, you know.  The promotion that was sadly terminated by COVID.  No big deal.  I'll never make back the money I spent on publishing and promotion.  (And am STILL spending.  I bought a fucking page of next year's WSCA program.  It's happening in Portland, 2022.)  Anyhoo...that night at Dudley's when I was reading, people from my three primary support groups were there...the COCC group, the Trinity group, and the Skyhooks, my old poetry group. 

In the last couple of weeks I've received postcards and letters (requested in a despairing post on Facebook on February 8) and flowers.  So even though I need to walk the daily walk in the house on my own, I'm loved outside of the house. I now have more regular friendship connections.

You know, the thing about me is, I love to have rules and structure in part because I have a brain that works that way and in part because there was a certain amount of chaos in my mind and heart when I was growing up.  If I know the rules I can decide to abide by them or break them.  It's clear.  

But what are the rules for friendship?  They vary from place to place, time to time.  But at the core, I think, is a negotiated acceptance of behaviors and in some instances an unspoken agreement to help in times of trouble.  Like people and flowers, friendships have a life cycle which I didn't know about until recently.  I have felt guilty and angry for lost friendships rather than accepting that it's natural that disconnection happens.  

What I don't like is having people get angry with me for not following rules I didn't know about.  I also have learned to get out of "bait and switch" relationships -- friendships in which I am told I'm wonderful until I believe it and then I'm told I suck.  

My wonderful friends don't do that.  If they have criticism they say it straight out and don't wait for a moment when my defenses are down.  They love me in spite of (or perhaps because of) my occasional bursts of passion and my craziness.  

And maybe that's because I love and accept them.  One of my Mom's helpful sayings was "To have a friend you must be one."  As a recovering narcissist, I have to make a practice of keeping up and caring.  Oh, the feeling of caring is always there, but my practices are often lax.

The upshot is, I am very blessed or lucky, depending on whether or not my friend is a believer or not, to have people praying for me, bringing me food, sending me flowers.  I wish I could gift all dementia carers with my ability to reach out and ask for help.