I caught myself testing my friends this week. It was completely non-verbal; they didn't realize I was even doing it. I don't think even I realized it at the time. It took an episode of Cougar Town for me to see how I’d been acting.
I can't deny that I've been exponentially emotional lately; it’s gone on longer than I care to admit. Between my lacklustre dating record, my fruitless relationships with Mike and Dean, my Grandfather passing away, being infected with salmonella, and my....well you get the idea, I can’t say I don’t know why I’ve been feeling so glum. Why is it that we find it easier to dump on the ones we love when we’re feeling our most vulnerable?
Ladies’ night is supposed to be a place to unwind, laugh, cry, be you and let everything go. With my sharp attitude and burgeoning alligator tears, I didn’t seem to care about what was being discussed. I was letting my PMS dictate my emotions and my slump navigate my behaviour. So, I pouted. In my head, this is where the test began. It was simple in execution: look upset until someone asks you about it. Huff, stare at nothing, answer “fine” to every question, anyone can master it. I believe I peaked when trying to get my parents to feel guilty for punishing me when I was younger. It’s the silent treatment to the nth degree.
I have my reasons, besides my general woes, for being upset and with the weight of my wallowing getting to me, irritation prickled at me like a tight sock. My BFF was wrapped up in a haze of new love and self pity (she doesn’t handle illness well). It didn’t matter what she said or how she said it, I didn’t want to hear it. Since Ladies’ Night is an outlet to grill and dish, I sat listening to my other friends gush about their fantastic relationships, as well as console Cecilia, who’s contemplating breaking up with her BF. Participating in the evening was laboured on my part. I was being a giant sour patch kid, and I knew it.
When it came time to leave, I was feeling particularly icy. In the car, I let the tears fall on my cheeks and denied wiping them away after the third time Cecilia asked if I was okay. When I got home, I cried. I let everything spill out in the privacy of my bedroom. Mission accomplished? Hardly. I managed to draw negative attention to myself, look pathetic, and I denied myself the pleasure that is [generally] Ladies’ Night. It wasn’t until I composed myself and turned on the TV that an episode of Cougar Town threw down a line that I couldn’t ignore. “It’s not fair to test your friends when they don’t know they’re being tested.” I was testing my friends’ perception of me, their intuition toward my body language, and their overall level of caring for me. I wasn’t giving anyone a fair shot at it, however, by repeatedly dismissing their concern. I was perpetuating the test and playing on their patience with my quivering bottom lip.
This time I got through the night without actually generating any drama. The last thing I want is to lose my friends. They are fundamental to my happiness, although I understand my happiness doesn’t rely solely on them. I’ve realized that I can do more harm to myself by continuing to play the victim simply because I’m unhappy with my personal life. Rather than assume that the people around me are torturing me on purpose with their love stories, I’ve realized that they have EVERY right to be happy (or upset) about the things that are happening in their own lives. They are sharing what makes up their daily lives, and I should put aside my bad mood and be supportive. I know damn well that they will be there to laugh with me, support me, inspire me, hug me, and continually ask me what’s wrong when I’ve got a puss on.
They all passed the test.
