When people just want to be text friends
What is it with friends who give great text/messaging but who never make the effort to see you in real life? I am not talking about my fellow ill people here, who are really good at keeping in touch as and when they are able, nor those with major life challenges – or even introverts, by the way. I mean the ‘average’ person who leads a seemingly normal life.
I’ve been trying to work out their purposes. Perhaps they just want to keep you as an option, or maybe you are a habit, someone to pass the time of day with. Instead of nipping out for a for cigarette break they decide text you .
Maybe I should be pleased that they think about me at all! But sometimes their behaviour makes me think that there are mind games going on. Some kind of passive aggressive behaviour, manipulation that they are not even aware of.
For example, you receive what seems to be a warm text message inquiry after your health or wellbeing. You reply and then receive nothing back. I don’t expect an essay but a simple, “Thanks For the update”, or “That’s good to hear”, or “That’s a shame”, would is welcome and then you know that the conversation is over.
I think people hide behind technology. I am probably guilty of this sometimes myself.
However I have decided there is only one answer to these frustrating texters: To go NC. In other words, no contact.
I said I find it hard to move on yet I have decided today to purge some of my ‘friends’ on Facebook and to simply not engage with horror people IRL.
This has come from the realisation that I am surrounded at times by women who can best be described as having ‘resting b**** face’ syndrome. (RBF). No matter how hard I try to be friendly I get nowhere. And they call themselves Christians!
I don’t really know why they don’t like me but there it is! They make me feel like the white, blonde/ginger bitchy girls at school did or used to. Yeah, you know the ones… The shiny people!
Actually some of the men are as bad. There’s a couple I can think of right now – arrogance personified!
I really don’t need this stuff in my life. Be gone!
We said goodbye to the best pastor today as he and his wife are moving onto pastures new. I’ve been really upset about this for a few months – Both of these people have had a very significant impact on my life and I think of him as a nephew that I never had – but I’ve come to terms with it now as it is right for them. He will be a real loss to us, as will she, but I also know that we reach ‘the divided path’ many times on our journey through life.
Pastor B and his wife need to be in the new place and I also am taking steps towards a different kind of life. Whether I will stay with this church or not I do not know. I am not somebody who moves on easily. However I know that eventually I will want somewhere which is nearer to New Home as the journey to and fro is quite time consuming and tiring and also I am not a member of the community where my present church is. I will stay with them for the time being until I feel more secure and settled in my new life.
It’s no secret that it has taken me longer to get over my marriage breakdown than it has for some other people.
This time, the season, is the first time in 30 years that I have not seen Ex regularly. We co-parented our dog for six or seven years after The Separation and she died at Christmas 2016. Although we have been in touch a little bit by text and email we have not seen each other. I think this is a good thing. They say that no contact (NC) is the way forward.
I was talking to my mother about this the other day. I said, “Ex is the person that I have been closest to in the whole of my life.” Now this may have been a little hurtful for my mother to hear but it is true.
We are meant to separate from our parents. When we marry we expect to travel through the decades with our spouse. Also, there is the sexual connection which binds us to our spouse; something that, hopefully, we do not share with our parents.
It seems strange but it was only this realisation that my ex is the person that I have been closest to in my whole life that made me realise why it has taken me such a long time to get over him and the marriage. I don’t think I necessarily miss him as much as being married, though I am not entirely sure that I would choose to remarry. The thought of never being in love or being loved again in return, however, during my remaining life is pretty grim!
One of the most distressing symptoms of my prolonged health relapse is that I am very underweight. I’m 5ft 1″ and under 7 stone. I eat like a starving donkey, take supplements, including whey protein powder, I am having tests on my repeated GP visits. I hate being this thin. It makes me feel unfeminine, weak and insubstantial.
Yet people feel free to tell me, most emphatically, that I am too thin… in a concerned voice. It seems never ending. I find it patronising and hurtful. It is socially acceptable to tell me I am too thin but how would they feel if I said: “Hi! Still fat, then?” or “Crikey, you’ve put weight on. Bit of a porker!”
Constantly telling someone they are too thin seems to imply that you’re starving yourself, (you’re anorexic) or just plain difficult!
I think some people genuinely are concerned but it does make me wonder if some are they’re doing it to make themselves feel better about themselves and THEIR bodies. To be fair, no-one at church has said this; it’s my secular friends! Go figure!
I’m going to have to think of a good riposte next time somebody pipes up!
“We pray today for those in love, those off love, those in between. And for those who are lonelier today than other days.
We pray today for those whose frozen hearts cannot love & those who feel so unlovely that they can’t love themselves.
We pray for the elderly man gazing today at a black and white photograph in a silver frame of a wedding in another time.
We pray for the the mum, who quietly bought herself flowers yesterday. And the boy who dared to send a card but didn’t get one back.
King of love come comfort and forgive us this cheap, gaudy, desperate, isolating thing we have made of you. Amen.”
Pete Greig – Valentine’s Prayer
One of our pastors shared this on Facebook. It’s awesome.
A church friend contacted me yesterday and I wanted to share how encouraging she was.
I was explaining how sad I was that I haven’t been able to get to church as much, although I have made it to life group a few times and the Christmas concert.
She said: “But you’re still part of the fellowship. Every single person who can’t get to church for one reason or another is still part of the fellowship.”
This is such a powerful thing for me to hear and I realised that the fellowship IS all still going on: texts, letters, visits, support, prayer, music, podcasts and reading.
There are lots of people who can’t always get to the services, through ill health or distance.
I just wanted to say it’s true: “We are all still part of the fellowship.”
“Will you stay in our lover’s story?” Kooks, David Bowie.
Back in 1988 I saw our time in Sheffield as a sad and lonely period yet in retrospect I see it differently. We were young, not yet fully formed, and very much in love.
My job was hard, physically and mentally, and I felt pulled in many directions. At work, I was the ‘newbie’, before that word was invented, who had to make her mark, a graduate among school leavers, viewed with a little suspicion. I wasn’t part of any clique and was frequently homesick for my birth town and my parents. Gray was out-of-work and lonely too. As I had dragged him to this landlocked city I felt I had to make everything alright for him. Exhausted after my day at the office I felt obliged to go out at night, to pubs or to the cinema, when really I would have preferred to stay in and just talk or be.
Sundays became special though.
Mostly we walked in Weston Park, sometimes visiting the art gallery there, and often in Crookes Valley Park, which was often swathed in mist. He would wear his Joe Orton-style leather jacket and I would be in my blue coat with its real fur collar, which I’d picked up in Oxfam in Broomhill. It looked like something straight out of a Tissot painting. I kept that coat for years.
Crookes Valley Park comprised sloping greens and a flat lake and was peaceful in a melancholic sort of way. Gray was often sad and we were frequently tired. What we talked about I can’t recall but conversation always flowed between us as the leaves came tumbling down around us. There was this utter sense of togetherness, of being with the right one. If I’d have known my Bible back then I would have identified with the verse from Song of Solomon:
“I have found the one whom my soul loves.”
Sometimes we would walk down to Hunter’s Bar and end up in Pizza Hut. Having been on the dole for a few months before I got this job this seemed to us quite decadent! I relished seeing the anticipation in his eyes and we’d laugh as the soft, doughy pizza would melt in our fingers – and then in our mouths. I loved to see him happy like that.
Sundays were doubly precious because I never looked forward to rejoining the world of office politics in a department that was sinking fast in an era of privatisation. Many people in the office were having affairs with each other as if it was the last few days of pre-war Berlin. This was the very antithesis of my world of “pure love”, monogamous, hopeful and magical.
These memories can pierce my heart, as if they were happening right now. I wonder at this, bemused, that he, in his new life with new wife, doesn’t feel it too, at the very same moment as I do.
The subconscious mind, I read, doesn’t understand past and present, but sees everything as if it IS occurring right now. And it is happening. I’m walking in Crookes Park, Sheffield, with the man I love.
I am loved, valued, wanted.
Things have been very up or down here. I’ve just had a very busy week, busy for me that is.
JUBILATION I went to a prayer meeting at the tiny church on my new street. This church is linked to my usual church – they belong to the same family. I’m hoping to get involved in their home group whilst I am recuperating from my long health relapse.
I’ve had beloved visitors to the flat which has made it feel much more homely. I also met a woman and her partner at a social event. She invited me to her new home which is a palatial edifice overlooking the sea. The views are spectacular. They moved up from London six months ago. Gentrification is definitely taking place here.
I also went to a craft/technical workshop yesterday which I absolutely loved.
DESPAIR But there are downsides too. I went to my GP and asked to go back on antidepressants as being housebound much of the time has been really getting to me. I am feeling a little brighter for that. I am also going to be tested for Addison’s Disease. I don’t think I have it but it is a good place to start, to find out why I have had muscle wasting and weight loss over the last 3 years. Personally I think it is to do with hormones, lack thereof, after my hysterectomy. Low testosterone can be a real problem.
I am really struggling with my trusted mechanic, who is looking out for an automatic car for me. It’s taking ages and I feel that there is a breakdown in communication. I feel like a ‘problem’ to him, which is how my ex used to make me feel, whereas we have always got on brilliantly.
My relationship with my best friend, G, is also proving to be quite difficult. We have had some talks recently about how I feel the friendship is being eroded by his extraordinarily busy, stressful life. Much of his life is negative. I really do fear for his health – and he does too! He got defensive when I brought up this ‘fading of our friendship’. He basically told me to ‘get over it’ and ‘get on with it’. I believe he has lost perspective and sees me as attacking him rather than trying to sort the problem out. We have been friends for 31 years. I don’t think he has any conception at all of what it is like to be very often housebound and vulnerable because of that. Disappointing.
Therefore, I have jubilant times and times of despair. I have a large desire to tell a few people to sling their hooks. But I know that that will be self-defeating in the long run. I must master my emotions!
When People Stop Visiting…When I moved into my home people wanted to visit. I think they were fascinated by the novelty factor. I really appreciated seeing them, especially as my relapse began and continued.
But after a while people stop coming. They aren’t mean it’s just that other priorities take over and they assume you’re ok now. Meanwhile you’re sitting here in the same position!
My mum says this is something that has emerged in her bereavement group: that people are all over you like a rash in the beginning but then they just stop visiting.
I’m not meaning to moan – I have been shown kindness by a lot of people. I’m sure I’ve done the same to others. “Let he who is without sin…” etc.
I’ve connected with a local Life Group (very local) but can’t get to it for a couple of weeks due to previous commitments. I’m hoping that will help ‘cos despite knowing a fair few people here I can’t expect them to be on call.
Sometimes having only yourself to think about is more a of a curse than a blessing. Even offered to take my 83 neighbour to the nursing home where here hubby is today but she was already sorted!
Offered to help young friends out with childcare on their moving day, but they don’t need me. I’ve joined a voluntary group – but nothing’s happening yet, I’ve work promised – but for the future, have a business idea – but it is still in development. Even Life Group was cancelled tonight.
At least I got out of town today for a while! Hallelujah!
|This is from the TMS Wiki Structured Education Programme. It struck a chord as I can neglect myself in terms of diet and rest if under stress. http://www.tmswiki.org/ppd/Educational_Program_Day_37
Regular Self Care
The ability to care for oneself is an essential skill that that needs to be learned and practiced to prevent or relieve TMS/PPD symptoms. Most people learn this as children when they are given adequate opportunities to play. A four-year-old with paper and fingerpaints does not care how many pictures per hour they produce, or about the quality of their work or who will see it. They care only that they are having fun. If it stops being fun they move on to another activity they enjoy. This is how children, and adults, learn how to meet their need for enjoyment. Adults may not need as many hours spent in this way as a child, but the need is always there.
For some children, the opportunity for carefree self-indulgence is limited or non-existent. If children are abused or given excessive responsibilities, if among the adults in the home there is violence, drug abuse, a high need for support or erratic behavior the child may focus on the needs of others (adults or siblings) in the home. This may leave insufficient time for acquiring self-care skills. In addition, low self-esteem from a less than nurturing home may leave children feeling unworthy of taking time for themselves.
Adults lacking this ability care for everyone but themselves. If they have spare time, their thoughts turn to using it constructively for the benefit of others. On the list of those whom they support, their own name is missing. For some, the only break they get occurs when TMS/PPD symptoms become too severe for them to function.
Fortunately, self-care skill can be acquired at any age. Here are some steps that have helped others:
Once you acquire this skill you will have it for life. In the future, whenever your stress level begins to reach levels capable of causing symptoms, you will have the ability to leave the rest of your world and focus on you. This is a powerful technique that, by itself, has relieved severe and long-lasting symptoms in many people.
I’m still feeling very unsettled in my new home. I think it’s because this is the first home I have ever owned by myself, even though I am over 50.
First came my parents houses, then university halls and student houses, and then renting with my now ex-husband. We went on to buy a couple of houses. There’s always somebody by my side.
Now I should be viewing my move with a spirit of independence but I think I’m just scared! I would also really enjoy having someone to share the renovations with. I used to love planning our houses with my ex.
A friend of mine said it took him three years to settle into his home. Everything went wrong for him until he started going to meditation classes then everything fell into place for him and he stopped running away. He’s now a practising Buddhist.
I have decided to stay here until 2018. If I still feel unsettled I will think about moving then.
….of those who make me laugh. Not even from my era either!
I don’t laugh as much as I used to. We laugh and smile much less as we get older, studies reveal.
One reason (for me) is that spending a LOT of time with the very elderly, such as my mum, is not always conducive to joy. Perhaps that’s why people love kids – they laugh such a lot and make us laugh. (I find pets do this for me.)
With this in mind I have made a conscious decision to seek out things that make me laugh every day whether that’s films, YouTube clips, radio programmes, memories. It’s gotta be worth a shot!
“Every marriage is different, but all marriages experience ups and downs – there’s the romantic times when the sun seems to be always shining, and the tough times when winter seems to have set in for good. We want to support you in your relationship whether you are preparing to get married or have been …”
This is such landmark news for people with ME/CFS. This backs up what patients have known all along… militaristic Graded Exercise Therapy (GET) makes us worse not better. This doesn’t mean that we should stop moving but that pushing through the pain does not work for us. Pacing is more effective. It also partially explains my current prolonged muscle relapse as pushing is what I did through my house move – push through pain and warning symptoms. Thank God for the people out there who campaigned to get this data released.
What’s Your ACE Score? (and, at the end, What’s Your Resilience Score?) There are 10 types of childhood trauma measured in the ACE Study. Five are personal — physical abuse, verba…
Source: Got Your ACE Score?