This isn’t good: My throat is sore and I have no energy.
I blame a coworker who decided to work through his bad cold last week by remaining in the office instead of taking sick leave. If I wake up congested and whimpering tomorrow morning, I’ll go into work just to breath on him and pay him back.
Then there’s my painful tennis elbow, or in my case fencing elbow. It’s getting better, but because of it I’m carrying that arm kinda bent and up and dangly, the way a T. Rex would. Yes, I look funny.
But what really kinda got me down this weekend was having a chat with a casual friend who managed, almost before I knew what she was doing, to make me feel like crap.
You know what kind of “friend” I mean. The kind who most of the time can be decent and goodhearted, and you feel like you owe them to stay friends and hang out once in a while. But at other times and in subtle, small ways, they can make you feel like a shit sandwich. You don’t even realize how they’ve drained the energy from you until you’ve walked away and a few hours later you wonder why you feel so down.
We all know people like that, don’t we?
In all honesty I only see this friend anymore because she does my hair and at half the price of a salon. And most of the time when I’m sitting there we can talk politics and about life in general and I enjoy myself. But at other times…
Let’s just say this woman knows how to bring up personal issues in a way that make me feel like a loser.
One thing she never, ever talks about is my writing because she just doesn’t care. I mean, I never bothered even to tell her that I published The Compass Master and that I’ve gotten some great feedback. She knows I write this blog but has never once checked it out. And I don’t want to discuss this part of my life with her because I don’t want to be hurt when she feigns interest for all of thirty seconds and then just shrugs.
This is something all us writers have to put up with, isn’t it? Not just rejection in publishing, but the fact that what is so important and personal to us doesn’t even register with some of the people in our lives. Realistically, we can’t expect them all to care. They don’t owe us their genuine interest or support. Still, I find myself more and more quietly walking away from minor relationships that sap my spirit and inflict tiny scratches on my heart. The older I get, the more I realize I can sometimes choose who to have in my life and who shouldn’t be there.
So how about you? I bet you all have similar stories to tell, and very likely much more painful ones. My scratched-up heart goes out to you.