Saga...the next chapter

“I wish I could sleep,
But I can’t lie on my back
Because there is a knife
For everyday that I’ve known you…

So just remember…
When you think you’re free…
The crack inside your fucking heart - - is me.”
~ Marilyn Manson

You know, dear reader, talking about the past and the good memories I once held for Barb almost made me miss her. I was looking back at her with rose colored glasses. I was lost in a past life long gone. Luckily, we got to the part where she screwed me over and then I remembered very vividly all the pain she brought to my life too. I had to take a break though from writing about those very dark days. It was actually bringing me down – even now, years later. I shouldn’t be surprised by this considering what I’m writing about is the main reason I had to start taking anti-depressants. Still, I thought maybe I could write about it and not let it affect me. Silly girl!

So at this point in my story, Barb has taken flight from my life…leaving only the words of some sappy poetic narrative for me to try to figure out where it all went wrong. For at least two weeks after I received her email, I was a mess. I went from anger to crippling despair and back. I wasted away in my bed and cried. I was lost. I couldn’t stand to be online, knowing that I had no mail waiting for me. I just shut down inside.

Of course I had other friends, but none that I felt could fill the Grand Canyon-sized void created by Barb’s departure. I didn’t have the same connection with my other friends as I did with her. I felt stuck in my role as the person they came to when they were unhappy; I was supposed to be the problem solver – not the other way around. None of them knew me like her and I felt unable to come to them to cry (literally) on their shoulder. I vented, of course, and they tried to make me happier, but I was a cold, dark void inside.

I started to refer to the end of our friendship as Barb and I “breaking up”. I didn’t know a better term to describe it. We had been so deeply a part of each other’s lives for such a long time and it was the only word that seemed adequate. Looking back on this now, I don’t know what I had hoped to have. Although I wasn’t sexually interested in Barb, I did feel like our relationship was much more than a friendship. Perhaps these intense feelings could be linked to our relationship in the game. Martin and Kali were real parts of our being (at least to us) and that created an unusual closeness between us. I honestly felt like (in some way) Barb was “mine.” Obviously, I could not have both my life with Brian and a life with her (although we joked about that between the three of us) – but I was selfish and unwilling to give up either. So what does all this mean? Does it mean I’m some deep closeted lesbian? I don’t think so. The only thing I know for sure is that Barb was neither strong enough to admit her own feelings and she was not brave enough to stay.

After a few months of stewing over the mess my life had become, I did start to accept my new life. I was still very unhappy but at least I was functioning again. I was dealt with another unexpected blow however. I found out that Barb had been writing and phoning my father the entire time I had been going through this hell. I had written long emails to my father about the pain I was going through and had trusted him with very private feelings. To find out that he had been telling Barb about me and sending her pictures of my kids the entire time was like being slapped in the face. I was furious! It was totally unfair.

I had to learn how to live my life without her without a crutch – one moment she was there and then she was gone. She had no such issues because my own father was telling her all about me and my family. It was like a “Fatal Attraction” moment! Who stays in touch with the family of the person you just crushed under your heel? I admit that there were extended circumstances – she considered him a friend and knew him slightly longer than me – but at the end of the day he was my father! I felt totally betrayed by both of them. In the end, I sent her a nasty letter telling her to get out of my life totally. I also asked my father not to talk to her about me and my family – but as it turns out neither abided by my wishes. What a big surprise <please note sarcasm>.

During this time, I was not only trying to cope with the loss of my “sister” but also the loss of my game. I had been entirely dependent on Barb to be able to game and with her gone so was my safety net. Without Barb I could not simply slip into that other world and forget about my own troubles. It was nearly a fatal blow. I could no longer depend on the ever present strength of “Martin” inside of me. Without a way to game, he had no “life” being fed into him. Martin had been my source of inner strength for almost 10 years and I didn’t know how to deal with loosing that piece of me. I tried talking about this with Brian, because he knew how real Martin was to me, but what in the hell can a person really say about a situation like this? Sorry your imaginary inner strength/spirit is slipping away? Hallmark doesn’t make a card for that one - yet. I couldn’t really talk to anyone about it without fear I’d be thrown into a loony bin. The hurt was real to me though and it made life even more unbearable than I thought possible.

Ironically, I found it impossible to even look at anything related to our game. It made me terribly depressed. It wasn’t until about 3 or 4 months later that I started to read old stories and IM sessions from the game. It became like a lifeline to me. I must have read those stories a hundred times. Around the 6 month mark I actually began writing new ones. Of course they lacked the interaction of another person, but it was a major achievement and it did help me start to move past the pain and hurt. For the record I did try to game with other people, but it just wasn’t the same thing. For one thing, I couldn’t play MY game, with my characters and stories. Also, few people were interested in playing Werewolf at that time. Still, it was yet another baby step to getting better.

9 months after our “break up”, I was finally able to stop hating Barb. I hadn’t forgiven her – but I was too tired to be a pit of rage a moment longer. It takes a tremendous amount of energy to stay angry and I was tired of wasting my time. I still hurt but I finally just let it be. I was a different person now. I didn’t handle conflict well and I was anxious most all the time. I was most certainly a weaker version of the girl I once was. I finally let my doctor talk me into taking anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medicines. It was the first steps into a new me.

But that is a story for next time…