An unhealthy dose of reality

My best friend and I have been best friends for 26 years. During that time, we've seen lots and been through many of life's celebrations and tragedies.

Although we've dealt with emotional ups and downs for more than 20 years, we still weren't aptly equipped to handle the feelings that surfaced after Ryan's death.

During my pregnancy, she was practically an outsider. She knew that I was pregnant and constantly checked on my progress via telephone (we live 500 miles apart), but she never saw the physically pregnant me. The me who was glowing. The me with the cute, swollen belly. The me who was more than ready to be a mom. Plus, she's never been pregnant and never had a desire to be a mom, so she doesn't understand how a pregnancy transforms your heart into something bigger than you had ever dreamed possible.

So, she couldn't possibly understand the depth of my pain at losing Ryan. In her mind, he only existed in ultrasound pictures and through a recording of a heartbeat played through the telephone.

The past year has really stressed our friendship and tested its limits. When I'm feeling especially sad, the last thing I want to hear is how fucking wonderful and trouble-free someone else's life is. But those are the things my best friend chooses to talk about incessantly. And, sometimes it seems as though she's rubbing my nose in the fact that my life is pretty fucking shitty at the moment, while she's sitting pretty, without a care in the world and oblivious to my pain.

I realize that sounds extremely bitter and selfish, but that's the reality of how my grief has changed me and my feelings. I can't always celebrate when everyone else is, because sometimes it DOES make me feel worse about the course my life has taken the last few years. I'm not expecting everyone to be somber and pissy, but a toned-down version of happy would do just fine. Besides, when perkiness is overdone, it seems phony and patronizing to the recipient.

My best friend called me while I was on my way home from work on Thursday. I debated about taking her call - especially while driving - but ultimately I answered and that's when our friendship took yet another twist in the road.

After some idle chit-chat, she flat-out asked me why I always sound so down. I wasn't going to flat-out tell her that sometimes her calls make me sad, but I felt I couldn't share how I really feel. But, she kept prodding and poking at me till I finally shared some of the ugly thoughts in my head.

I'm sure if we had been having this conversation in person, her face would've gone white and her eyes would've bugged out of her head after hearing some of the messed up shit my mind has come up with since Ryan died.

Perceptions are transformed and feelings change on a moment's notice. Sometimes you hurt so badly that you think you'll die from the pain in your heart. Fear is a constant companion, especially when actively trying for another, hopefully healthy, pregnancy outcome. Healing from such a devastating loss isn't as pretty or as easy as movies make it seem. It's real life and it hurts all around a lot of the time.

Needless to say, after verbally vomitting my heart and soul, my best friend began to see that there's far more going on with me than what appears on the surface.

It's an ugly little world, my head. And sometimes I hate what I've become because of it.