The worst part about some friends is when they shit talk other friends and then you have to watch them be “friends” with those people.
Feed those fucks to the wolves and bury them in their own shit.
This morning I woke up to find that my car is fucked up in a way that I couldn’t tell you for sure. The side of it has been cracked and taped since this winter and now, on the way to work, started making the most heinous, unsafe sounds that a 2 year old vehicle should not.
On the way to work with Gracie (my car) making sickly noise, I got the phone call I had been anticipating from the bank for my student line of credit only to hear the news that I have feared since I first applied.
This was a last resort for me and my only other option for affording my university program. My scholarships barely cover my tuition for first term. On top of that, I also need to think about feeding myself, a roof over my head and my training costs for the year. My cheques from work barely cover my fucking groceries these days. My tips have been so low due to them being split with other employees.
I tried to keep my shit together this morning at work, had a cry in the office and was encouraged by one of the chef’s to suck it up and carry on. But I just fucking couldn’t make it. I left.
I had a massive panic attack, felt the massive migraine approaching and drove as fast as I could across the city to see a doctor, debating on whether or not I should just get it over with and drive over the bridge and into the river. I think about this more often than one should. I was on my way to see if I should go back on anti-depressants again. I am someone who has struggled with clinical depression since I was 17. I have tried to kill myself three times, as recent as last October. I try to deal with this by throwing myself into physical activity but have recently found out that it has since fucked with my fight or flight responses. The whole “exercise if you are depressed because it releases endorphins” is a fucking joke.
On the way there, I saw a familiar car at an intersection turning into our favorite coffee house. Boh.
Boh is one of my team mates and one of the best friends I have ever had. We have had some extreme ups and downs, he and I. And by downs, I mean him getting me so angry with him that I have full on punched him in the face. But I think we both realize why it is that we are in each other’s lives, and why we simply do not see eye to eye on a lot of days. I could not tell you just how much I love him, especially after today.
He waved at me from his car as he turned into the parking lot, I pulled a u-turn at the next light to meet him, quickly shooting him a text to wait for me because I needed a hug. He got out of his car and I left mine, full on collapsing into his chest, hyperventilating, leaving mascara all over his favorite Rogue shirt, unashamed. If anyone was going to see me at my weakest at this time, at my worst, it might as well have been him. The universe sent him to me. I believe this.
I told him everything and he just held me like he might have never let go. My breathing eventually slowed and he said these things to me:
"Life is fucking rough, I get that. I know how bad it is, because I have no money whatsoever and I am dumb as fuck and will probably have to work until I die. But you, don’t let this keep you from achieving the thing you want most, this loan isn’t the be all fucking end all, you just have to be patient. I’ve seen you get your own ass kicked more times than anyone but it’s only because you give it everything you have and you fight and fight and fight and always manage to get up twice as fast as anyone who isn’t trying as hard. In anything. You feel like you have nothing left but all I see is a tough as shit woman still standing here, pissed off at the world and still having the strength to kick rocks at everything. You feel like you have nothing left but that’s something. I would give anything to have the strength you have when you say that you have nothing left. You don’t see how your eyes look when you’re like this"
The most brutal part of this was when he looked at me through all this ugly manic crying and said that he still thought I was so beautiful. Jesus Christ.
I cried more and more and harder than before in this humid, dusty parking lot, smelling his shirt and the smoke from northern forest fires, fighting the voices in my head telling me that he was right. For once. I got nowhere else to go, so I might as well keep going.
I am being buried alive but I am still breathing. My chest is heavy but I can wait. I can wait.