“Don’t You Know That You’re Toxic?”

Whoa. So I toats owe anyone out in the cosmos who reads these mindless musings an apology for basically falling out of existence for the past month. Albeit, February is the shortest month of the year so technically…alright, alright, it’s been a while. And what a long trip it has been. So, this whole business of working for Billy Goat has come to an abrupt and almost bitter end. Now, now, nothing serious has happened to her. But, last week, on my day off, I get a call from her saying that her ostomy bag is leaking. Okay, I tell her, I’ll be up in a second to change it. Well, when I get there, I find out that she had put her wound vacuum in the refrigerator the night before and severed the chemo cord that was not supposed to be removed under any circumstance until several hours later that day by a professional (I am trained and certified but not in chemo removal). Well, after a frantic search for the chemo container and a rather sloppy disposal, me and her roommate got her cleaned up and immediately took her to the hospital that is currently treating her. She was loopy. BG was making statements that would make anyone worry. We didn’t have a choice. And while we were there, I sort of knew that this was the beginning of the end. They admitted her and now, to sort of fast-forward the story, she is moving to assisted living, where she’ll have to stay until…well, I don’t even know how to finish that sentence. I told you the ending sucked. So, I basically lost my job. But, that’s not even the best part of this little story. Somewhere in the midst of all of this chaos, a friend text me and said that she had Facebooked this friend and pleaded for my number, saying that it was an emergency. I thought about it, and I must say, in my defense, that with this whole job situation, my self-confidence was really good. I felt powerful and sure. I knew what to say and how to say it and I wasn’t afraid of the consequences of my actions. So I told this friend to pass my number along. Maybe not my wisest move. While I waited for the initial contact, I thought I was going to throw up. So many emotions were reeling through my head. I didn’t know what to do. Was it a good move? Was it stupid? What the hell was I going to say to her? And what the hell was she calling me for? I mean, I have had literally no contact with her in 2 whole years! Why now, all of a sudden, you want to call me and shoot the breeze? But, as I’m spinning in circles, my phone rings. Did the whole cliche where I dramatically look down and pause for a moment before answering, but when I did, this inexplicable calmness came over me. We sort of slide into this tense distant conversation. She starts explaining this dramatic situation that I’m not even going to bother repeating here, crying and asking for my help. I maintained my distance and tried to be as stoic and third-party-with-no-personal-interest-in-the-matter about it. And, at the time, I think I did pretty well. Now…not so much. After we had that conversation (oh, and somewhere in there, she apologized to me. Yea! The words “I’m sorry” came out of her mouth! Of course, it was immediately negated by “I’m not sure I should even be apologizing” so it doesn’t really count but for that brief second, the sun did shine), I was fine. I went home, told my parents about it, actually managed to forget to tell Allister at that next session and then…well, then came the whammy. The next week, it was like she was a poison slowly leaking into my tissues. You know on TV when they show a snake bite infecting someone’s muscles and veins, or when a vampire bites a victim and they zoom into the victim’s internals and you can see their body physically changing from what has been injected into them? Well, that’s what happened to me. When I answered that phone call, she bit me. And from then on, the poison was invading my tissues. Every night I dreamed about her. Every time I was in the car, I was driving a little faster because I couldn’t stop thinking about how pissed I was at her. Every time I went to the gas station or a store, I thought she was around every corner. Every time my phone chimed, I would swear it was her. The quicksand was up to my chest and I seemed to keep struggling despite the knowledge that struggling made it worse. I sank deeper and deeper. Knowing that I wouldn’t work for BG anymore, knowing that my life had returned to the Nothingness: the friendless, workless, pointless void that my existence is, I was really depressed. I slept all day…well, you know the whole bit. Shit, why am I wasting my time explaining it to you? A few days ago, I was in the car and my hand was on the phone, I was so ready to call her and cuss her out. I wanted to yell and scream and tell her every hateful thing that has ever burned my tongue, wanting to spit it in her face (well, technically her ear). I had that burst of self-confidence where I didn’t care about the consequences, and it was foolish (obviously) and may not have even been self-confidence (simply anger) but I was full of it. I was speeding down the road, with no destination in mind and I truly felt like a matador bull on ‘roids. So, I did the only thing I thought would calm me down. I called my dad. We met and I explained everything. The call, the poison, the constant presence in my life and how I thought I was so over this. I thought that after 2 years it would be over and done. That I could wash my hands and have the red come off, but it still stains my skin. Last session, I told Allister the same thing. And we established this: I was in an abusive relationship. I was never physically abused but the constant belittling and mental strain was enough that it was traumatic for me. And trauma for everyone is different. This isn’t a 2-year fix. It took a long ass time to get this way so it’s going to take a long time to undo this mess but, and that’s a huge BUT, it can be done. I can…and will..get over this. The mountain peak was hiding behind the clouds. That’s all. I just didn’t see how tall it was.