Always. Really?

So, yesterday I was in a messed up mood, and for some reason or another I went back in time on this blog, and looked through a few of my very first posts. It got me to thinking.

Throughout my life, I've had a myriad of people (beloved and non) tell me that they'd "always be there" for me. Now, here I am, years (and even decades) after knowing them, and they're ... Not here. Now, don't get me wrong. This doesn't really bother me. Most of them were more trouble than they were worth, and caused me endless amounts of heart ache. There are those select few that I wonder about from time to time; where they are, what they're up to, if they're happy. But really, the rest I don't miss. What I do miss, is having people like that to talk to.

My circle of close (and I mean call in the middle of the night to talk kind of close) friends lately consists of my 2 boyfriends (who I can't really talk to about each other, or themselves, now can I?), my sister (who's going through issues of her own, and I don't want to bother her), a friend who lives half the country away, and, believe it or not, my ex husband.

Meh. I've gone off on a tangent. Anyway, it kind of makes me wonder about when people say "always." Do they really mean always? Because, I do. Everyone I've ever said I'd always feel a certain way about, I still do. I do. I still love every single person I've ever said I always would. And I have tried to "be there" for everyone I've always said I would always be there for. The only reason I'm not is because they removed themselves from my life. So...

Did they really mean "always," or did they mean "as long as I'm around for"?

Just something to ponder on...

Life is weird...

When I was a teenager, and deep into my Christian phase, a friend and I made a local Christian bookstore our hang out of choice. They had a great music selection (as in, rock music, not just your typical gospel stuff), and on Friday nights, they had live performances. They also had a coffee/juice bar, so we could basically hang there until we decided we were hungry enough to go find food somewhere.

In the course of hanging out there, we got to know the owners, who were all really sweet people.

Eventually, my friend got a job there, so we all hung out there even more than before, and became friends with the owners. One of them especially, went out of his way for us, opening up the coffee bar early, or opening it up just for us even when it was supposed to be closed all day. He was the sweetest guy...

I still have fond memories of getting a couple friends together and heading over there on Friday nights to see local Christian performers live, for free. And I remember how the owners were nice enough to sell another friend's band's album without much of a markup, so the band got to keep most of the profits (I still have that album somewhere... They were actually pretty good). And I loved how they didn't mind a group of teenagers hanging out in the store -- they encouraged it in fact. I guess they rathered us hanging out there, in a Christian environment, than going somewhere less... Well, less Christian.

Last week there was a small plane crash not too far from where I live. The names of those involved were not publicized, so I didn't pay too much attention to it. Planes seem to crash every now and again out here... We have a lot of small airports, and a lot of inexperienced people flying Cesnas.

But I just heard from a friend this morning that one of the people killed in this particular crash was one of the owners of this store that we spent so much time at growing up. Her old boss, and our old friend. The one who was extra nice to us.

Life is just so weird sometimes...

On the Outside...

I've always been a loner. You know from previous posts that I have very few friends, and the reasons I give for not wanting more. But here's the thing -- Even loners get lonely. And sometimes, as much as I cherish my solitude, I find myself wishing I had more friends.

I think, on some level, I never really learned how to be social. My upbringing encouraged me to distance myself from the people around me. I was different, and other kids didn't like "different," so I stayed away. I'd been hurt by the people around me, the ones who were supposed to love and protect me, so I thought everyone would hurt me, and I stayed away. Every time I convinced myself that I could be wrong, that I should try and trust people, I wound up getting hurt again. So I stayed away. Even now, I keep people at a distance. People I shouldn't. The BF for example, my son, my sister, most of the friends I have. It's a survival instinct, because I know I'm not strong enough to have my feelings hurt anymore.

But then there are the times where I see groups of friends together. They're laughing, and having a good time, telling inside jokes, and passing out hugs and kisses liberally amongst themselves. I see them, and I wonder -- why can't I have something like that? Why can't I find a group of friends like that, to just have fun with?

I try. I go with my BF to see his friends, and try to fit in. I'm alternative lifestyle like they are, so I should be able to fit in, right? But while some of them are the sweetest, most loving, caring, generous people in the world, I still can't quite bring myself to truly be a part of their little group. It seems like no matter how hard I try, I'm always on the outside. On the outside, looking in. And I always end up feeling more lonely than if I'd just stayed at home by myself. Afterall, the TV never asks me why I'm so quiet, or if I'm okay because I look uncomfortable. The couch never whispers to my BF, asking if he's sure I'm having a good time.

It's times like those I wish desperately that I were normal, somehow. I get tired of being on the outside. I get tired of feeling like I don't belong. But I don't know how to fix it. I don't know how to put myself out there, and just relax around other people (at least, not without getting really horribly drunk). I never learned. I always had to have my guard up, always had to be ready to defend myself, always had to be bracing myself for the pain and suffering others would inflict upon me.

Yeah, I was a victim, and I still am. I know it. And while it's not exactly an excuse... It's an explanation. Yes, I need to get past it. I need to let all that go, and move on with my life so I can be happy. But honestly... I don't know how.