Old friends knocking at the door

I know Insomnia, she is an old friend. Insomnia and I would face the darkness together each night, tucked up in bed, watching the walls for shadows. She and I would make up these stories about monsters and villains, and then my heart would race and I’d pull the blanket over my head, toes curled up. She made me realise I had so much to do, so much to think about and there was no time for sleep because I had to think. Think, think, think…

I know Guilt, she is an old friend. Guilt and I would navigate social situations with turbulence. She would sit in my gut and rock it from side to side. She would force my hand to do things I didn’t want to do. She pointed out that I was a good little girl and I would be amenable and do as I was told and it was my job to make everyone happy. Otherwise, she said, I was the villain. You’re not allowed to make others unhappy or inconvenienced, she said.

I know Fear, she is an old friend. Fear and I would spent every second of every day together. Every. Second. Of. Every. Day. There were days when I forgot where Fear started and I ended. Our beings fused together. Her thoughts were my thoughts. Her non-actions were mine. Fear told me it was better to hold back, stay here with her, where it was safe. Better to be safe than sorry. Better to shrink. Better to live so small you’re nothing at all.

I know Depression, she is an old friend. Depression and I would spend days in bed, watching tv, what a hoot! Except she wasn’t a very fun friend and she wouldn’t like it if I tried to laugh or be entertained. She held me down and wouldn’t let me leave. She held me in a chokehold because I was hers and no one else could enjoy me. No one else could reach through the fog and grab me. Depression held my shoulders too tight and pulled my mouth down and closed my eyes to the world.

My old friends are threatening me. Though our friendships ended, they visit me sometimes, trying to reconnect.

“Hey, let’s hang out!” They say.

As much as I swat them away, telling them that I’m hanging out with my new friends – Exercise, Family, Yoga, Journalling, Meditating, Dog Walks, Writing, Changing Routine – they still knock. They insist they be let in. Their knocks are getting more persistent.

Maybe I should let them in. I’m tired of fighting them.

But then my newest friend speaks loudly, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder, “You’ve worked too hard to give in now. Keep up your new friendships, don’t let them back in.”

Intuition is a well-meaning, good friend, but she doesn’t know how hard it is. She doesn’t know that I’ve been hanging out with them in secret for years, even after I ended the relationships. She’s a busy friend and doesn’t always have time for me. It’s okay. But when she comes, I do feel held. Safe. Certain. Awake. She makes me feel all the things the others don’t. Things I want to feel all the time.

But maybe that’s the problem. I can’t have only one friend. I need many, for different things in my life. And some friends won’t always be kind. As long as I remain aware, perhaps I can tell them when they’re being unkind and take some distance. Maybe I can –

Knock, knock

Knock, knock

Knock, knock

Knock, knock

Sincerely,

S. xx