This Is Thirty - My Mortality - Part One

My Mortality

Edited 4/23/2017

It slept outside my front door unwilling to come in while I still had company. Despite it granting me such a courtesy, its presence was never forgotten. It taunted me, casting his elongated shadows in my foyer from under the cracks of my front door. My friends were in town celebrating my 30th birthday. A milestone that has stopped me in my tracks and has forced me to come to terms with my own mortality. It's unsettling, a 30 year old girl still in the prime of her youth, crippled by the thought of inevitable lifelessness and despair. 

I should be happy right now. But with it sitting outside my door, I knew misery awaited. While I slept that weekend, I could feel it grow at my front door step. I felt its presences more and more: minute by minute. I was surrounded by friends, but my mind was be preoccupied with the culprit that waited. 

I'm 30 now. A friend joked and said that my best years were behind me. Terrible joke, might I add. It seems like it's me against the clock now. Literally. My body won't promise me a chance at motherhood for much longer. 10 years the least. 10 years use to sound like a long time. But now I know 10 years can happen in a blink of any eye. And I've already blinked three times. 

By Sunday night, I dropped my friends off at the airport. I played BBC World News on the radio on my way back home to drown out the sound of my heater blasting. The temperature outside was below freezing… which complimented my anxiety. After arriving home, I reluctantly climbed the two stories of stairs, limping due to my right knee. I was terrified to reach my condo's doorstep, not knowing what I would find. I tried to come to terms that the culprit that sat outside my door, accepting that he would now devour me because I was finally alone. I was vulnerable, left with only my pessimistic thoughts and harsh realities. My cynical outlook on what's to come. I felt it suitable to drown in my emptiness. 

When I got to the door, the culprit wasn't there. I should have felt relief that he wasn’t waiting in the corners of the building halls. But I think that I became addicted to a certain kind of sadness. My ambivalent relief was short lived. He must have thought me to be a fool. His natural instinct to prey on the weak would not deter him from having me as his prey. I knew he had to be close by because I could still smell his odor... Like wet rags soaked in dirty mop water. He was a filthy thing that enjoyed the illusion of being clean.

As I put my key in the door, I happened to look down. That's when I realized that he slipped under the cracks and now resided inside my home.

After an entire weekend of fearing our confrontation, I realized that more so, I was fearing fear itself. Can anything be more crippling than knowing he stalked me all weekend? The anticipation was torture… confronting him head on... our first face to face encounter was now something I yearned to get over with. 

I opened the front door. My living-room was dark but the TV was still on, casting dark shadows that flashed with every change of brightness coming from the screen. In the shadows, there he laid on the floor. His eyes didn't move. His face expressionless until he cracked a sinister smile. 

“Time is ever fleeting. I can hear the thumbing of your heart... as evasive as each second”. 

His voice was like a cold knife running effortless through my spine. The hair on my arms stood to attention, the only thing on my body that was mobile while the rest of me remained paralyzed with fear.

It wasn't that long before he moved from his positioning on the floor and seeped into the air. He disintegrating from  this creature from the pits of despair to a thick smog of black smoke that infiltrated my airways the closer it moved towards me. And from my airways it filled my lungs with a stench deathly foul. 

How can I escape this demon that now lives inside of me? A question that I ask, knowing there is no answer.

Praying Is Not Enough

Sometimes being a friend means mastering the art of timing. There is a time for silence. A time to let go and allow people to hurl themselves into their own destiny. And a time to prepare to pick up the pieces when it's all over.

- Octavia Butler

When I went through my break up, I remember telling my friends via a group text message that the relationship was over. My friends expressed a lot of concern, through text message, with some saying that they would pray for me. I can always use a prayer, especially if there is a higher power listening. But at that moment, praying for me was not enough. Actually, I feel like my friends don’t have to tell me they are praying for me. If you are going to pray, just do it. It is between you and God. Telling me “I am going to pray for you” via text message doesn't really do anything for me when I am feeling down and out.

While I don’t want to sound unappreciative, I believe only stating the cliché line “I WILL PRAY FOR YOU” when a friend is in need is a cop-out. Don’t just pray for me. Pick up the phone and call me. Talk to me. Find out how I am doing. Come visit me. 

One thing we all have on this earth is time. And when you give someone your time, it speaks volumes. It’s the greatest gift you can give someone. Especially when they are in need of a friend. I use to be guilty of the same thing (and I am still not perfect at it). Texting is so convenient and it takes only a few seconds but it isn't enough when you have a friend in need.

After college, I had a friend that randomly texted me "I love you" and it immediately raised red flags. Why? Because she is not an overly emotional or expressive person, which is why I became worried. Something told me that she was reaching out for help. So, I stopped what I was doing and I called her. During our conversation she told me about her depression and that none of her other friends realized that she was crying out for help. At that moment, I was so glad that I called her. While I didn't know it at the time, a few years later I discovered that she tried to commit suicide around that time. I can only imagine how I would have felt if I didn’t call her that night and she ended her life. I don’t know if I could have ever forgiven myself.

Don't get me wrong, I am not perfect at reaching out to my friends and family but I am working on being better. I've blogged about this before, but I see it happen time and time again in group messages where a friend reaches out to everyone about something troubling that has occurred in their life and everyone responds with an "I’ll pray for you” or "I hope you feel better" and continues to go about their day. While I am sure God (and the person in need) appreciates your prayers, I am sure they both would appreciate it more if you picked up the phone and called the person… or got in the car and drove to see that person. Remember, the best gift you can give someone is your time. It’s free. 

Are we egging his house or nah?

When I was younger, my mother use to tell me that I had too many friends. I couldn't understand how someone could have too many friends? At the time, the only thing you really expected from your friends were to eat lunch with you and talk all night on the phone about who you had a crush on. Albeit, I would find myself in weird transitions where I had a few rocky patches regarding making friends. Starting a new school, it took a while for me to meet friends. In college, it took me two tears to make solid, dependable friendships. After college, I realized that making friends became a lot harder. In the real world, people have so many other commitments that they cannot spend their time crying with you after your then-boyfriend broke your heart. Yes… I just made this about me!

Well, prime example. My then boyfriend, now known as THE WORSE, broke up with me… I balled for maybe five days straight. I cried so much that my cheeks started burning due to all the salt in my tears. I had my cousin hostage on the phone for over four hours a day. And while my cousin was definitely a rock for me, in the back of my mind all I could think about was “where the fuck are my friends?” Where was the mob to join me on an ice cream binge, or look at the pictures of all his ex-girlfriend’s only to tell me how much prettier I am compared to them? Where were my friends that would put a towel over their shoulder and say, “Hey, here, feel free to drool on me for a few hours as you sob”? As an adult, friendships require a bit more than just having someone to eat lunch with it. A friend is someone that you could talk to, someone who you feel comfortable with, someone you can trust and share your intimate secrets with, someone who would drive past your boyfriends house to spy on him with you, someone who would give you a place to hideout when the police are looking for you... you know?

At my age, in the real world, people have their own problems. And while I wanted so desperately to kick and scream ‘I HAVE NO FRIENDS’ followed by throwing myself down a flight of stairs, I resisted. I realized that as you age, friends start to serve different purposes and that not everyone is going to dedicate that time to you. While I was hurting, I realized that my friends had their own problems and that they would not be dropping everything to be at my side. Not that ‘having your own problems’ is any excuse to not be there for your friend… because trust me, during this time I realized truly, how many friends I had. Not including the "friends" who only called me to find out how the break-up happened versus calling me to see how I was doing.

I am learning that some struggles you will have to face alone. And luckily for me, while I did not have many friends in my corner, I had two or three good women by my side. I had two or three friends who would listen to me tell the same story incessantly of how he broke my heart. And I realized for the first time what my mother was telling me all along… I had too many friends. I had quantity and not quality. And while I enjoyed hanging out with many of my DC peeps… I realized that many of them were just that… someone to hang out with. Friends are hard to come by and I am realizing that you shouldn't label everyone you talk to as a friend. My mentor in college told me to call my classmate my classmate, call my coworker my coworker, call my roommate my roommate and only call your friends your friends.

I still have many friends, about 15 people who I would most definitely want to be bridesmaids (I know… that is tacky but so what) in my wedding. And most of these friends are people that I met before and during college. I cherish my friends and I realized that life has taken us on different journeys so while they may not be there for me during my darkest hour; I know that if they could – they would. And those who don’t have your best interest at heart, well… you can just drop them. You can’t pick your family but you determine whom you consider a friend.

And before I end this random entry, I want to suggest that next time a friend seems like they need some emotional support, pick up the phone and call them or invite them out to lunch. Texting is cool but sometimes it is not enough. Sometimes just saying 'I will pray for you' is not enough. Your friend is worth it.