Zero Fucks To Give

I believe that people come into our lives for a reason, a season or a lifetime. That there is an expiration date to all relationships. The end comes for us all, either through death or break up (term used loosely). So when someone exits stage left I bid them a sorrowful farewell, but do not try to convince them to stay.

Or rather, 99.99% of people who left I didn’t. There was one in particular I dogged for years. A story for…well today…sorta.

Loss was such an intricate part of my childhood that when someone disappeared I learned to accept their absence and move on. So many came and went as I grew up that I created the narrative that we all had purpose in each other’s lives, and their departure meant mine had run its course in theirs.

But that’s bullshit. That’s the flowery pillow talk we give ourselves when we try to justify the loss of someone when we have no understanding of why they left: it just wasn’t meant to be.

Blah blah blah.

Over and over again I watched silently as they sauntered into the sunset with barely a backward glance in the rearview.

And I let them.

I fucking hated it. But, since I was the common denominator I assumed something was wrong with me. I was the reason they left.

I am not enough.

I am not funny enough. I am not smart enough. I am not pretty enough.

Not enough to be a priority.

I am a placeholder, there until someone better comes along.

I am disposable.

I am unworthy of lasting and fulfilling relationships. That my presence in the lives of those around me are temporary and once there is no reason for me to be around they will sever the connection, and I will be left out in the cold.

again

These are thoughts I continue to hold today. The present tense above was not an accident.

Growing up I shied away from making connections. From letting anyone in to my inner sanctum. I kept everyone at arms length, preserving my feelings and silently waiting for the abandonment.

Yet, I remain a dutiful friend. I am always there to support and help. Whatever they need I will do my best to provide. I want to be dependable, supportive, loving and caring. I want to give them reasons for why I am worth keeping around.

Maybe then they would stay.

To be honest, I performed.

No.

I perform.

You cannot erase 44 years of self preservation with any amount of therapy. Believe me I’ve tried.

I still believe that those closest to me are only holding space until a new best friend shows up to take my place.

That Bean, my oldest and dearest friend of 30 years, who quite literally sprouted up with me. Who knows the childhood secrets, crushes, traumas, and the instigator of late night shenanigans, will grow tired of my shit and finally stop calling.

That Dolly, my soulmate, the woman who held me through the hardest parts of my divorce, who has seen me at my ugliest, will grow weary of my company and seek a new bestie who doesn’t trigger her safety anxiety with my risky life choices.

That Melfie, my bestest best friend, the woman who scared the bejeezus out of me in the beginning, but now I can’t imagine a life without. The most honest human I know, will finally one day snap, tell me to fuck the fuck off and never speak to me again.

That Sweets, my darling light, the woman who gives me hope for the future. Who reminds me to have hope for the future. Whose resilience and strength dulled my sharp edges, and gave me insight into what I have to offer others, will eventually realize I am a fraud. That no one should to look up to me.

That Mellon, the man amongst the women, the one who teaches me what unconditional love truly is. The one who knows every story of my life because I wanted him to. The one I finally allowed myself to be soft and vulnerable with. The only one I chased and fought to keep in my life, will realize that I am too much, and not enough, and finally leave, never to return.

I believe they will leave. All of them. That I’ll be replaced by someone better.

Because once again, I am not enough.

But, fuck, I don’t want to lose them.

They are my tribe.

My Council of Women, and Man.

The worst part is I have no reason to ever believe that I will lose them. They have been there through thick and thin. The Council of Women all showed up for my last show. Screaming and hollering as I shook my tatas and killed my dance instructor. Man is slated to attend the next, his first burlesque show, to support me. Driving all the way here from there just to be my friendly face in the audience.

If anything, in recent times, I’ve received far more reassurance that they aren’t going anywhere. That I can call on them when I’m crashing out. That they will check on me when I’m struggling. That they love me and have my back. That while not always agreeing with my life choices, they allow me the freedom to make them. To succeed or fail, they will be there no matter what.

That I can depend on them.

Man, oh, man is that scary though.

I’m proud of the fact that when I’m struggling and at my lowest, it’s me who picks me up, brushes off the dirt and puts me back in the game.

But I’m not the same when I go back in.

I’ve realized I need more than just me to pep talk myself.

I really can’t do this life thing on my own.

So I’ve opened up a bit more. For some, a trickle of openness and feelings. Others it’s full on tsunami. A floodgate of emotion barrelling towards this gaggle of friends I’ve collected over the years. Expressing myself and allowing some sliver of vulnerability to seep in.

In every instance I fear the end.

I can’t help it.

Even now, writing this, knowing I’m going to publish it, I fear them reading it. Realizing I’m a nutso basket case. That they do not want my level of crazy in their life. They should run now while their sanity is intact.

(The rest of the world can think what they want)

I know they will read it, because, these beautiful people support me in all the things I do. I could do some of the most off the wall shit (and I have) and every single one of them is waiting to hear all about it.

That should be my answer to those doubts in my head.

So why do I still have them?

Simple answer, I don’t know.

Nothing any of them can say will magically erase the years of abandonment by others that created this Monster in my head. Years of that voice telling me I’m better off alone, no one actually likes me. Years of being replaced and forgotten.

The only time the Monster is quiet is when they show up. When I see their faces in the crowd. When they text the little things about their day because they want me to know. When they call out of the blue because they wanted to talk and hear my voice. When they send me random pictures of their pups, kids or meals they’ve made. When they agree to my ugly sweater project. When they get on the roller coaster they hate, or take me dancing and they don’t dance. When they share a thousand reels because it made them think of me. When they send me links to events I would love and then come with me. When they take me on adventures to air museums and hikes through history.

When they read this and text me that I’m a dumbass, and they love me.