need to keep talking

Sometimes when things are at their worst, I am least able to speak. I don’t call my friends. I don’t post on here. I don’t call my parents. I don’t talk to anyone.

When things are horrible, I can’t even talk to Jarrod. When I fell down on the day of my meeting I called him, and I could barely recount what had happened. Often, he has to coax things out of me. I’m amazed at his patience.

All weekend before I was let go, Jarrod and I were talking. We even went for a walk and discussed all aspects of the issue. I discussed how it really was a possibility they would fire me, as things were just deteriorating at work daily. I really wasn’t emotionally prepared for it, though.

Then I called him while he was in a meeting, I was on my way home after being let go. I couldn’t get through for two hours. It was for the best, I could barely speak. My sister was the first to know – and she was very supportive, and even then I had to wait a while before I could talk to her. I stuttered while telling her. I didn’t want to say the words. I didn’t want her to see my failure.

Finally when I spoke to Jarrod, he said how sorry he was it happened in the kindest, sincerest, gentlest voice. I could hear him aching for me over the phone, even though the words were simple. He asked if I needed him at home, but I told him the truth – I had drugged myself and planned to sleep the day away. He knows sleeping is my coping mechanism so he understood.

He came home with lilies – and while those were lovely – he also came home with groceries. What’s more, they were things I specifically needed, like deoderant (I had run out the day before and he had noticed it missing from the counter), sandwich stuff, and ramen. Ramen was incredibly thoughtful because it is my comfort food – and he knew enough about me to know that. I’m crying now writing this. I could never have another special birthday present, christmas present, or anything else, because that man loved me enough to go food shopping and bring home ramen for me on the day I got fired.

Fuck the job. Fuck everything bad that has ever happened to me and ever will. When people love you – parents, sister, husband, friends – it makes it all ok.

My mother and father wrote me supportive and loving emails – I could not talk to them for two full days afterwards because of my shame and hurt. My sister stepped in and took care of it for me, which I really, really appreciated.

I don’t want to go into details because people will one day be able to read this when I take off the password protection. If you want to know what happened, let me know, and I’ll discuss it with you over icq or the mud – 3353757 is my uin.

Just a hint though – there is such a thing as being “too nice” – apparently.