Because you’ll never see me. And it won’t be because I hate people.
Okay, I’ve always been a bit of a hermit. I’ve always loved my own bed and my TV series and cups of green tea (decaf, of course) and sometimes, if I’m feeling really social, my Mum or my sister. I ride the wave of excitement.
But if the last few years have taught me anything, its been that my interests have undoubtedly been shaped by my abilities and limitations. My hate for sport, for example. There was actually a time when I played and enjoyed sport DON’T DIE of shock but actually, think about it. I’m competitive and aggressive – basketball was a great time. You couldn’t get me out of the pool or the sun when I was a kid, a total fish. I loved the beach until it decided to hate me.
I think my feelings towards being social and going out are much the same, now that I think on it. The only friends I have left are the people I work with in some capacity. More or less everyone else has given up because I am, completely frankly and honestly, a shit friend. I don’t prioritise friends and I haven’t for a long time. What I only wish people understood is that I don’t choose to have such a limited capacity for priorities. I wish people understood the sacrifices that I would have to make just to be a friend.
I’ve reached a point now at which I just click “maybe” on basically any Facebook event for a party because the reality is, I probably won’t make it. And I am sick as fuck of being that friend who constantly lets people down. Even this weekend, I did manage to make it to not one but two parties of two beautiful friends and I felt so good being able to do that, even though I was no fun at either, but it did result in my having to cancel on another friend tonight because I just couldn’t keep going. I will have the best intentions and I will want to be there and I will come up with any story under the sun to give you a reason that seems justified to normal people because I can’t explain that pushing myself will likely result in another assignment extension and another sick day off work.
My body works (or doesn’t) on a very strict and precise comedy of remedies and routines. One spanner in the works and everything falls apart. Eight hours of sleep. More hours of rest, so much rest. Every morning and night I have to force down enough horse-sized vitamin tablets to gag a snake, and enough food to stomach them all (nothing more fun than when I pull out my ziplock bag of pills at the dinner table). I have to consume around three litres of fluids – sports drinks and water. I have to complete about 45 minutes of tailored physio exercises (or as I like to call it, palates for the retarded challenged). I have to get a balanced combination of pea protein shakes, fruit and vegies and sugar into me. All fresh because preservatives hate me. Avoid the foods I’m allergic to. As soon as I start to neglect these processes – which is basically inevitable when I’m hanging in Brisbane all weekend for social events – my body completely crashes. It usually starts with cold sores (and my body doesn’t do these by halves, we’re not talking one nice little sore in the corner of my mouth, we’re talking full on herpes clusters here), tonsilitis, urinary tract/kidney infections, thrush, chest infections, colds or whatever’s going around, ear infections, heightened sensitivity to my allergies, worsened gastrointestinal issues; usually all at once and always in addition to more of the fatigue and muscle soreness. This starts a vicious cycle because the antibiotics that I have to take to fix the problems screw with the good bacteria as well, making me more run down. These take weeks to subside, all over a “big” weekend.
The worst part is not knowing. Because you want to attend the party/go out/see members of the human species, you do tell people that you might be there but even with the might, and even knowing that I’m sick, people often still seem let down. By my nature, I tend to attract people who don’t like to be screwed around. When it comes to social situations, I’m very submissive and chilled. I don’t mind where we eat dinner, what time we meet, what movie we see. And if I do have an opinion, I often don’t express it because I’m a bit of a compulsive people pleaser like that. I like doing what other people like doing because I like making people happy. I embrace that, that’s who I am and the fussy particular people of this world need friends like me. Except when I fail to predict my own ailments. And I don’t know what else to do. I don’t know when I’m going to be feeling unwell, all I know is how often that does occur. “Next time, just tell me you’re not feeling well and we won’t make plans.” But I felt fine an hour ago. And I’m sorry. I said I was sorry. And I shouldn’t have had to, but I did it anyway because I know this is frustrating for other people. But if I wanted to only say yes to people when I was sure I’d be able to make it, I would honestly never say yes. I feel myself existing in one-sided friendships where the other person initiates all the contact and it breaks my heart but I just can’t add to it because I already struggle to keep up with the status quo.
So to all of my remaining friends: I’m sorry and I love you. You’re all beautiful for hanging around even though it seems like I don’t care and for the most part you are all so supportive and understanding. I’m so lucky. I just wish everyone could understand like you.
❤ xo
Invisible Squared 