All I Want for Christmas...

A friend of mine came back into my life with a huge secret. He confided in me, as people often do, but it was such an enormous secret that honestly, I didn't quite know what to do with it. I harbored it, took care of it, took care of him and we became closer. I became his rock, there for him when he needed me and there for him when he didn't. This kid has a whole array of issues that I won't get into that need to be dealt with professionally, but he's in denial about them and so I became his counselor, a role that is not wholly unfamiliar for me to assume. I learn several weeks into this resurrected friendship that this kid had secretly been pursuing my sister romantically, charming her with his wit, artistry and bravado and my sister bought it, hook, line and sinker, as many women who encounter this kid's romantic overtures often do. The problem with this, among many others, is that he is not stable enough to be dating anyone and I was personally offended that the person he decided to test his post-secret romantic interludes on was my little sister. My little sister. My family. The kid I look after above all else, that I would do anything for and he goes after her like a lion afer a giselle in the African savannah. I confront him about his deception, his lies and he assures and reassures me tat there is nothing between them, that he has no feelings for her, that he shouldn't have started something. He's sorry. He doesn't deserve a friend like me, blah blah fucking blah. I don't know there's so much more to this story and I could tell you, but I don't know what difference it would make. The bottom line is that I got fucked. Like bent over, in public, pants around my ankles, in the ass, fucked raw. (Nice image, huh?) That friendship is indefinitely severed. I can't even fathom how much it would take to even entertain the ideal of its possibility again. In the end, my relationship with my sister has been damaged severely, my sanity has been tested to lengths I thought previously unimaginable and now to top it off, on Christmas Eve, I've lost my best Katie, too.

Paul and I broke up. I have far deeper feelings for him than I ever let myself realize while we were together. I am scared of being with someone, of putting myself out there emotionally. He's going through some of his own issues and it's probably better that we aren't together while he's dealing with them and figuring things out, but that doesn't keep me from missing him. And I do miss him. Very much. I'm scared for him, too. Fucking terrified at times, but I keep telling myself that he'll be okay. I keep praying for him and hoping that God will touch his heart, keep him well enough to make it through, keep him safe for me. Bring him back to me.

In the middle of all of this, school ended. So many papers. Too much stress, but it's over and I survived. Did well actually and I'm kind of proud of myself, but then thought of student teaching enters my mind and I want to crawl back into bed again. I keep telling myself that will be okay, too.

And, not that it should surprise you, but I'm terribly depressed again. And this is the scary kind, the kind I used to write about in high school, that I would fill notebooks and notebooks and notebooks of, the kind I tried desperately to articulate. So many bad thoughts all of the time and probably just because I don't know how to deal with what's going on in my life. I know that I can't fix anyone, fix anything, but I try so hard and it ends up exhausting me. I think of ripping into my skin with a razor, to pull all of the ugliness out. And I don't want to die, don't actually possess the balls to do it at this point, but I can't stop thinking of how badly I'd just like to be dead. I just don't care anymore, can't care, don't have the emotional stamina required to care about myself. Suicidal. I've used that word several times over the last week and I hate it, but it's the truth. I guess there's a qualification. Is there a term for suicidal without the physical capability? Of just wanting to not exist, but not really wanting to go through the effort and pain of dying? It's weird when you turn into a person who can become hellbent and obsessed with self-destruction. And nothing makes the shit stop.

Luckily, I have a friend I've been relying on and he's been immeasurable in terms of just helping me make it through the hours. There's a kindred spirit between us. I know that he knows exactly how I feel and that I don't even have to say it. It's amazing actually. He knows what my tears mean before they come spilling out of me and he doesn't dilute me with the things I want to hear. Instead, he tells me the things that I need to hear and that's invaluable. Blessed. That's a word to describe this friendship.

So, here's what I want for Christmas. Maybe you can help me out:

1. My sanity, well, because it's always nice to have that around and I'm plum out at this point.

2. My friends or rather, the way things used to between all of us.

3. Paul's safety and happiness. I just want him to get well.

4. My relationship with my sister to get back on track. We'll always be sisters, but it sure is nice when people don't waltz in and knowingly fuck up the dynamic.

5. Relief. A brief vacation from this stress and drama.

It's a hefty list, I know. But, Santa can deliver. Except for an order this large, I think I need to put all of my chips in the Jesus basket. He has, after all, saved my life more times than I can count. And, he's the reason that I even made it to the 2004 Christmas season.

Isn't it awesome to have faith in something so much larger than who you are? God rules.

--
Arianne