Jacqui (jacqui) wrote,
Jacqui
jacqui

Fifty Pounds Gone For Good and Sad Feelings About My Oldest Friend.

Hello My Journal Darlings,

I have reached my first weight loss goal. Fifty Pounds gone! Woohoo! FIFTY POUNDS since I began this process, it's a little over forty since my surgery March 24, but I had to lose some weight before the surgery, so today it comes to exactly fifty pounds. I'm really happy with this and yet my competitive lil' mind is wanting more and disappointed that after having lost so much weight I still have so far to go.

Yesterday I put on a dress that I had made for me last year but that Saida had shrunk in the washing machine and that was so tight I couldn't even zip it up. It was so loose and the straps kept falling off. That felt good. But then when I was at the doctor's office I started to feel faint and weak, and my hands have been tingling. It turns out that I am anemic and vitamin deficient. I knew I was supposed to be taking vitamins but I couldn't find any chewables that weren't either full of sugar or artificial sweetener, and then when I was able to swallow pills I didn't have any that were small enough and was just procrastinating about going out and buying some. Well, that and the fact that I've been too weak and sick to go out.

I was really glad to see my surgeon and his staff. I talked him in to taking a cruise with his patients to Mexico. I read that Carney's doctor, Dr. Whitgrove, does this every year and thought it would be fun if we could too so I talked Dr. Liu into it. I like him so much. He is the coolest guy!

It was weird seeing some of his patients though, patients who don't look fat to me at all, who have just had the surgery. There were these two terrific looking women who had just had the surgery two weeks ago. I would give almost anything to be at their weight but they had complications, high blood pressure and diabetes, so they were able to do it at their much lower weights.

My cat Curly is in here with me again. He's so pretty. He has curly grey hair, (I bet you've already guessed that) with this pretty ruffle of darker grey around his neck, and on his face, paws, and the tip of his tail. Plus he has the sweetest little meow.

I've got The Incurable Collector on and they're shopping for bargains at the Rose Bowl flea market. I so wish I could be there right now. I'd need to have the energy to be able to do it, and the money, but I love shopping for fun old things.

I have to work up the energy to go out, but this is so hard for me because I am eating so little that I get weak and faint. I just have to go get some tofu and protein bars that I can eat. Man, you should read some of the ingredients on the back of these bars. One of them, one that I used to love to eat, has shellac and beeswax, no thanks.

I miss being intimate and sexual with Scott. It's been so long since I've felt well enough, but when this much time goes by, I get really shy, and it's so hard to work back to that safe comfortable place. I'm still way too sick, I mean when you're just trying to figure out how to eat and forgive me, but poop, it's hard to feel particularly sexual. But I want to get there again. It doesn't work for me though when Scott just jumps into intimacy. He tries to kind of force it to happen by putting his face so close to mine. It feels weird and threatening somehow. I need more of a warm up, more emotional connection and closeness, more foreplay. A big part of me is yearning for this connection for intimacy and sexuality. I woke up this morning dreaming about the guy on SVU again, oh blah, this is just too sickeningly personal to write about. I'm just going to leave it here for now.

This next long bit is about my oldest friend who I don't see anymore. I've written about this before but it was ages ago. I really need to get this out so you can just skip it if you like. I'm going to put it behind the LJ cut.


A few days ago I was going through my old photos and sorting them out. I kept finding photo after photo of my old best friend and her family. It hurts to look at them, I miss them so much. Then, the very same day as I was sorting through some unread mail, I read in my high school newsletter that she had another baby and I've never even met her first one. It made me so sad. I'm really really happy for her, but it hurts so much to be out of contact, to know that she has two little children whose lives I have absolutely nothing to do with.

I would love to just call or write to her. I wish I could call or write to her, but I just don't want to get burned any more, I don't want to deal with any more coldness, hurt, judgment, gossip and betrayal, so after our last dramatic episode I decided not to have contact with her.

We were so close as children, but ever since college we've had these brief episodes of being friends, getting into conflict, breaking up, getting back together, and then breaking up again. I thought that we were soulmates, (not in a romantic way, but in a deeply connected spiritual way, I feel connected to her entire family in the same way, and miss them desperately), I still think we are, and that if we don't work out our conflicts in this lifetime, we are fated to work them out in the next and the next and so on until we get it straight. She probably doesn't feel this kind of closeness to me or think anything like this.

Our initial fights and separations had to do with my selfishness and obliviousness to how she felt -- jealous and hurt over my having so much when she didn't, and threatened that I would get more attention or seemingly make friends more easily, and I just didn't see how much she was hurting over this. She didn't see or care about how desperately lonely and needful of companionship, friends and family that I was. I think she felt overshadowed and needed to break away. But when she went off to another college in another city, in a sneaky kind of last minute way, so that I wouldn't be able to go with her, it really hurt me and was such a big loss.

Then there is this long history of her stealing my things. She would steal so many things and either sneak them back in to my closet, thinking I wouldn't miss them, or switch things on me, if we had the same thing, when hers were worn out, like shoes, or take things and keep them, or loan or give them to other people. I would find my things in her suitcase packed to go back to college, or find photos of friends of hers wearing my clothes. Or things would just disappear never to be seen again.

My sophomore year in college I had a roommate who had gone to school with her before transferring to UCLA. She was sitting on my bed and I had my closet open and was getting dressed when she asked me why I had so many of, (I'll call my friend L.), L's clothes. She had seen her wearing many of them at school. It just went on and on. I just wish I'd been given a chance to loan or give these things to her, I wish she'd asked, because I am a really generous person. Although obviously she must not have thought so then. But then it kept going on, long after college, and I became really paranoid and mistrustful of her. It was all so incredibly hurtful and I felt so betrayed and used.

Then there was the way she handled friendships and how she would make these terrific friends who had all of these incredible advantages and never share them with me. She would torture me with stories about how great her friends were, and then make sure there would never be a chance of their liking me or wanting to befriend me by telling them horrible things about me. I would always share my friends while she would keep hers very close, I think because she thought I would steal them, or they would like me more, which is ridiculous, and then later I think it was because she was ashamed of me and my weight or my eccentricities.

It was all so strange and hurtful because when we were together we had so much fun, we laughed so much, and had so much in common, or at least I thought we did, we told each other we were best friends for life, we were going to be each other's maid of honor at our weddings and godmother's to our children, friend's forever, that kind of thing, but I wonder how many other people thought the same thing, and then I would discover she had said something bad about me behind my back, or lie to me or steal from me or betray me in some way.

She broke my trust so many times and I just kept forgiving her. I just refused to see it because I was sure I had done my share of hurting too. When we were really young, she would call me on the phone and try to get me to say bad things about the other person while secretly allowing them to listen on the other line. She would pass notes we had written to each other privately about someone else, to the very person I had been writing about. And again this continued well beyond college and up to the present day, when I learned all kinds of things she said about me behind my back to friends and my assistants, after the last time I saw her.

This last time, she had just reappeared, she was pregnant, and I was so happy to be friends again. I was overjoyed about her pregnancy, and then because I was having trouble getting out of the house, because I canceled a lunch date, and was too shy and uncomfortable to go to her baby shower, (I had offered to throw a shower for her but she completely blew that off), a shower I received a very late invitation to, and that was early in the morning, she wrote me a letter telling me I wasn't dependable and that it would be better for her if we weren't friends. No discussing the issue, no working things out, no chance for me to apologize or try again, just hello and good-bye.

I was heartbroken. And I had this gorgeous present for her, a basketful of vintage baby things I had been buying over time on eBay and at flea markets. It seemed so unfair to me that she could be so unforgiving of my being unable to get out of the house, when she had had this entire history of canceling dates on me -- she had been doing this for years, I could never count on her to show up. My ex and I used to joke about it. We would say that if we ever had a date for dinner or the movies or anything with her, that there were probably two other groups of people who were also counting on seeing her, and two out of three of us were going to get screwed over at the last minute. This happened a lot.

Despite how hurtful her letter and her actions were, I wrote the kindest and most loving letter I could write, telling her how much I loved her, how much she meant to me, asking her to forgive me and to try to understand and to please give us another chance. I didn't hear back from her for more than six months, not until well after her little girl was born, and by then I had done a lot of grief and recovery work over our relationship in therapy, and I just couldn't open myself up to more hurt.

I had also learned that she told my old friend Lynne that I had a bunch of fat housekeepers sitting around at Beau's party. Fat people. What must she have thought of me to have said something like this when I am so fat? Why would she have chosen only negative things to say about me, my son, our home, the lovely party we had, to our old high school friends? It felt like the same old patterns all over again -- divide and conquer.

I had invited my friend Adelina and several housekeepers who had worked for me in the past, and their kids, who I always stay close with, to Beau's party. We're like a big family; fat, poor, Spanish speaking, illegal, who cares, they're my friends, and it hurt that she would gossip about them behind my back. They had all heard me talk about L. with such fondness over the years and knew we had recently gotten together again. They couldn't bring themselves to tell me that they were shocked at the way she spoke about me when I wasn't around to hear it. She was standing in my kitchen eating ice cream out of my freezer. She said I was crazy for having so many things and so many cats and made faces and joked about me. Adelina said L. said she couldn't believe she could have stood working for me for so many years. Basically their impression of her was that she wasn't a friend to me at all, and that she clearly didn't like me and was a backstabber. This all came out after L. wrote me the kiss off letter just months before she had her baby. God, I was excited to be part of her life at that time. I felt like it was this mini miracle that we had forgiven each other and made peace again and then she burned me again. I could go on and on but then I'm sure so could she.

But I feel this closeness, this sisterly closeness that nothing can erase. And I wonder if she feels anything like this on her end. I kind of doubt it. After our last fall out and the resulting hurt I sort of put it together that she couldn't possibly care about me in the way that I've always cared about her. The things she wrote to me in her last letter were so distant and dispassionate, and so hurtful. I think about her almost every day, and I dream about her almost every night. We were friends from such an early age that the relationship we had was really very much like siblings and it's just so hard for me to let go. I love her so much and I miss her, but I just don't want to get hurt, and I don't want to be judged and gossiped about by someone I love.

Phew, that was long and painful. If you got this far I really appreciate it. It just helps so much to write about this stuff sometimes, and beyond that to know that there are people out there who can relate and who care. Wow, this was really draining and it's all so dark and yucky that I'm not even sure I want to post it, but it took so long to write that I guess I will. Plus there's always this fear in the back of my mind that she might be reading this. But then I think there's no way she would do that after all this time. I worry about the public nature of this, not knowing exactly who is reading it. Even if I made this a friend's only post, how do I know that one or two of my hundreds of LJ pals aren't people I know in real life? One of the great things about Live Journal is being able to reach out and share my feelings and stories with other people, but at the same time I know that if they feel like it, members of my birth family, my ex and his family, and my old friend can come and read about me any time they want. My life is a pretty open book and yet I know nothing about any of them and the inequity of it hurts, hurts a lot. It all comes down to trust for me, something I've been working on and growing around my whole life.

Beau and I are doing a survey for the CDC about children and their levels of physical activity. For some reason they got the phone line I use exclusively for Scott. When we get off the phone I'm going to call him. I so hope I can get it together to go out and do a few errands. We need food and lightbulbs.

Love you,
Me
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