Shortly after posting last time, I finally got the nerve to check email, turn the phone back on, and all that so I could assess the damage I did while uncontrollably pissed off for nonspecific reasons. I kept telling myself that, given my tendency to overthink things and overreact, things couldn’t possibly be as bad as I was imagining them to be.
Way, way worse.
I finally heard back from one of the friends I’d driven off. Unfortunately, I’d fired off a very horrible message on Facebook (after unblocking them) to one of them while I was irrationally angry asking again how much money I owed them. I regretted sending it as soon as I sent it but I was so enraged that I didn’t dwell on it for long. I did not expect a response. I’d sent texts, Facebook messages, and emails prior to this in which I asked how much money I owed them, explained that I knew I’d fucked up too badly to repair our relationship, told them what little I did clearly remember from that party, and apologized profusely. Nothing. I got to a point where I’d thought I’d lost all hope of ever hearing from them again but the issue of the money owed was really getting to me because it felt like I was just leaving the barn door open or something and I desperately wanted to slam it shut so I could possibly move on and try to figure out how to fix myself. I think I sent the first of those messages the day after the party, so it’s been about three weeks. Nothing. And I might have started to accept that they were absolutely not going to respond, even with just a dollar amount as the entire body of the message, and then that rage hit me and I stupidly sent that Facebook message the other night. I wasn’t expecting an answer at all, much less the answer I got.
I have no idea how long I sat here reading that email. Initially, I wasn’t even thinking while I was reading and all of those physical sensations that authors like to describe in books were happening to me: parched mouth, cold inside, not breathing, heart hammering, all that stuff. So it was kind of like a panic attack turned up to eleven.
There were so many ways I wanted to respond to it and I couldn’t wrap my head around how to go about actually doing it. There were things that I wanted to defend myself on and things that I wanted to explain but how in the hell could I? Even if I didn’t agree, I knew I had no right to express that because even if I thought they had things wrong, I’ve done plenty enough damage to have earned whatever they wanted to say. What right did I have to disagree? I’m the one at fault and I felt (still feel) guilty for even considering refuting this point or that point.
I think I responded calmly and clearly. I’m not about to go back and reread either the original email or my reply. I had sort of wanted to know what it was I said or did while drunk that was so bad and based on this email, I changed my mind. I don’t want to know. I really, really don’t. The really painful part was, until I read that email, I honestly thought I’d given up hope that there was a chance they’d forgive me and at the very least, understand that I’m fully aware of how badly I’d hurt them, even if I couldn’t remember much. I honestly thought I’d given up completely. But somehow, some tiny little spark of hope was still there. It’s definitely not there anymore. I did say that I was tired of fighting and that I’d given up. All I have left is trying to accept it. It’s over. And I don’t blame them. I’m done with me, too.
After I replied, I went through all of my email contacts (to be thorough) and blocked every single one of their email addresses. I can’t even try to focus on getting better if I’m focusing on what’s done and can’t be changed, forgiven, or forgotten. I would go to check my email and hold my breath to try to brace myself just in case they sent anything and after this one, I don’t think I could handle any sort of response to it. I’m teetering on the edge of another breakdown as it is, I don’t want to think about how bad it would be if they replied and told me exactly what I’d said and done that night. I don’t want to go back to that hospital.
I don’t have any other choice than to let go and start working on getting my head on straight. And even though I’ve blocked them on Facebook and blocked their email addresses, I know I’m going to be afraid of them for a long time. Not necessarily afraid OF them, I guess, so much as it is afraid of how I’ll react to them. I’ve even caught myself listening for the doorbell ringing because I’m afraid that they’ll come by for some reason. I KNOW IT DOESN’T MAKE SENSE. I’m living in fear of facing them and how I’ll handle it because I know damn good and well that I’ll eventually have to go back to work and one of them works in the same department that I work in. I can’t do anything to get better if I’m constantly En garde. People have told me, “move on,” “don’t contact them,” “give them space,” and all kinds of other things along those lines and I didn’t listen to them. I should have listened from the beginning. Maybe better late than never applies here?
I have to let go. I have to. Part of that is not allowing myself any loopholes I might be tempted to use to justify hanging on to them. I haven’t figured out how I can block calls and texts yet but I will. I have to be done. I’ll break further if I refuse to let go. I hate it because the single WORST thing someone can do to me is just ignore me and I don’t want to do it to anyone else. Maybe they’re better equipped to deal with that. I know I’m not because of a fucked up combination of past experience and mental illness, but maybe they can. I have no idea. I just know I cannot sacrifice whatever grip on reality I have left to be around them to find out if they can. I’ll just add the guilt from that to the existing pile of “Shit to feel guilty about” that already exists.