I Just Need To Talk…

I’m a happy person. I’ve always been a happy person. At least until about a week ago…
There are so many diaries on this site, I doubt that many will read this one. But I just have to talk about it. I just need someone, anyone, to know my pain. This is my cry for attention. That’s how desperate my situation has become.
I have this friend. My best friend. She was the most important person in my life, even more so than my husband. I know that sounds horrible, but it’s the truth. I couldn’t help it. I loved everything about her, and she completed me in ways I didn’t realize were possible. She drew me out of my shell, made me try new things, pushed me toward dreams I’d never imagined would come true. And she went with me all the way, because she wanted all the same things. She was my soul mate.
I’m going to call her Megan. Megan and I have been pretty much inseparable since we reunited with each other about 5 years ago. We’d gone to school together, had a brief friendship in junior high, but it wasn’t until we were 24 that we met up again. And the friendship was instantaneous and sharp. She’d moved in with my husband (I’ll call him Shane) and I less than a month later. And despite a year of her living in California, and a couple months of working in Nevada, she’s lived with me pretty much this whole time.
And we’d never had even a single fight.
A year ago, she was promoted at her job, and the company required that she move to the town where she would work. My husband and I moved with her, and for the first time, the house that we rented belonged to all three of us, not just Shane and I. For the first time, we were living with each other, not Megan living in our home. And it was awesome. The house was beautiful! Huge, accommodating, set in the country where our animals could run around. The lease was for a year, and the end of November would be when the lease was up. We all pitched in, paid the bills, did the house and yard work, sometimes one of us would pull more weight that the other.
Let me backtrack for just a second. When Megan and I first started hanging out, our lives were one big party. We were at the bar practically every night, singing karaoke and hanging out with a multitude of friends. That’s how we were. Our lives were about music more than anything else, and we even started our own band. Had a full group and shows and everything. But like all band stories, the group broke up, moving to different parts of the country, and we lost touch.
A few months after the band broke up, and this was well into our first year of friendship, I ended up going on the road with Shane. We are truck drivers, and that means that I spent a lot of time away from Megan. It was really hard, but even though we missed each other like crazy, we were constantly messaging each other and talking on the phone. We never went a day without speaking. During all of this time, Megan was single. She had the occasional boyfriend, one of which caused a major problem, but we survived it, and we grew closer.
After almost 4 years of driving, I was able to get off the truck and stay home full time. But in that time, Megan’s interests had changed. She didn’t want to go out anymore, understandably since we were growing up and no longer had the need to party full time. But spending all of that time on the road, I hadn’t managed to party myself out quite yet. I missed out on a lot of life, so during the week a month that I was home, I wanted to go out. Not necessarily to a bar all the time, but I love to go shopping, and I love to sing karaoke. It drove her a little crazy, and she had fun making fun of me for it. It was all pretty easy going.
So I was home, full-time again, for a year. I had two jobs, one of them was working for her, and the other was working at my favorite bar. So I had the best of both worlds.
And then she got robbed. She was closing down her store on a particularly busy night, had sent everyone home, and was alone counting the deposit. In her excitement and exhaustion, she’d forgotten to lock the door.
We live in a tiny hick town. The worst crimes we see are DUI’s and the occasional speeding ticket. But that night, two high school boys came in and robbed her at gunpoint, taking the deposit from the store and threatening her to keep quiet about it. She of course reported it, and we went through many days of dealing with the detectives.
After that, Megan completely changed. She couldn’t leave the house, couldn’t be by herself, couldn’t go back to work. She was a mess, crying at the most random times, going through bouts of extreme depression to extreme anger, meltdowns in the living room, and all the while pretending she was ok. But she didn’t even know herself anymore. I did my very best to be understanding, though I couldn’t even begin to imagine what she was going through. There were times I was impatient, but for the most part, I held her as tightly as I could and babied her through it when she needed me to.
She began to get into self-defense, and started heavy work-out regiments. She’s always been a big girl, and for the first time, she was actually starting to thin down and really enjoy her body. This gave her a euphoria that helped to pull her out of her depression, but she never really got back to who she was before. Which is completely understandable. I would have been shocked if she had.
But something was still missing for her, and when I had to quit my jobs and go back out on the road again to save my business, that left her all alone in this giant house with no one but the animals for company. We still talked all the time, but being as I drive night shifts, it was hard to have a phone conversation when one of us was awake during the time the other had to be sleeping. Facebook and snapchat became our best friends. We blew up each other’s phones.
And then she met her boyfriend. I’ll call him Tyler. I woke up one morning at home, and went into her room to grab something as I often did, and walked in to see a naked guy in her bed. I quickly backtracked and left the room. I hadn’t even known he was there. I thought for a few minutes about it, but she had never said a single thing to me about seeing anyone. We’re girls. We constantly talk about crushes and the guys we like. (Married women still crush.) But she hadn’t said a single word. After a few hours, they woke up, and he left to go to work. I asked her about him, and she told me she’d met him on a dating site, and they’d had a few drinks at the bar that I worked at the night before, and she’d brought him home.
I wasn’t upset about it. After all, it was her home just as much as mine, and she had every right to bring someone home whenever she wanted without needing to consult me or anything. That’s how we were. Full freedom. I was just curious about him, so of course I gave her 20 questions.
She obviously couldn’t tell me much, they’d only known each other a short time, but she told me what she knew. Tyler was nothing like the guys she was usually attracted to. She liked the cute boys, with gauges and tattoos, and quirky personalities that might offend some people. This guy was short, even for her, (She’s quite short), and kinda goofy looking, and he had no piercings or tattoos. Kind of the opposite of what she’d always wanted. But that night, he was back again. And again. And then he just never left.
It took me a long time to get to know him. He was always stuck in her room, never really came out of it unless he was getting something to eat or going to the bathroom. Before I go any further, let me just tell you that Tyler is a really awesome guy. He’s become a pretty good friend to me, even though I never really spent much time with him, being on the road and all.
But the worst part was, that as soon as Tyler was living in our house, Megan never had time for me. She wanted to be with him 24/7, and since he was always in her room, that’s where she was. I had already been grappling for her time, seeing as how she worked 12+ hours a day for her job, and I was on the road 3 weeks out of the month. I never got enough time with her, and now, I never got ANY time with her. It was like she started to see me as more of a roommate rather than her best friend, and though I tried my best to be patient with the early relationship transition, I couldn’t stop feeling as if I were being replaced. Like she didn’t want me anymore.
I know, that sounds stupid and sad, but my emotions got the better of me, and they haven’t let go.
After a couple months, they decided that they were going to move in his twin boys, who were 3. And rather than discuss it with Shane and I, they just said they were going to do it. I was surprised, and a bit upset that we weren’t consulted, but again, this was her house too. She said that they were going to move down into the basement, which had a bedroom (at the time we used it as an office), a living room, and a bathroom as well as the garage and outside access. But I started thinking about it. They were becoming a family of 4, living at the house full time, and sharing one bedroom and a tiny bathroom? The upstairs consisted of an enormous living room, 2 bedrooms, the kitchen, and the main bathroom that was set up like a master bath. And Shane and I were only there for a week at a time. That made no sense. So one day I called her and told her that Shane and I would be moving downstairs instead. The downstairs living room was already set up as a man cave for Shane, the bathroom was his, and despite there being no closet downstairs (Which was a major deal for me since I collect clothing) I was able to build a huge walk-in closet and vanity room in this weird storage room that had been added on to the man cave as an after thought.
It worked out perfectly. Megan and Tyler moved into my old bedroom, and the twin boys moved into Megan’s old room. I spent two weeks getting the downstairs set up just to my liking (I’m a nester, so things have to be just so-so). I had a little corner for my office in the man cave, my room was smaller, but turned out beautifully, and my closet was decked out in the multitude of band posters I’d collected from my favorite band. It was my own little slice of paradise.
But things between Megan and I began to get more strained. Without knowing it, both of us were picking up on tension between us, neither one of us realizing the other felt the same way. It got to the point where her emotions were so heightened, she couldn’t stand to be in the same room with me for more than a couple minutes, and I began to sequester myself downstairs. The tension built and built and built, and I didn’t know what I was supposed to be feeling, or if it was all in my head.
Turns out, it wasn’t. She’d been feeling the same way. And after an intervention from her mom, Megan and I sat down and had a talk. We told each other how we’d been feeling, and told each other about our fears. I told her how I felt like I was being replaced, assured her that I really liked Tyler and didn’t mind that he and his kids were there (which was the truth) and that I felt like she should try to make a better effort of spending time with me while I was home. I also told her that Shane and I were beginning to feel that it was time we moved out and into our own place once the lease was up. We’ve been married 6 years, and only a few months of that time was spent living without roommates.
That’s when she told me that she and Tyler were planning on moving to the northern part of the state at the beginning of next year. I was in shock, but I can’t say I was surprised. Megan has a habit of moving around. She’s like her parents. They’re basically gypsies. They like to change their backyard, and often. Megan is no different. She grows restless if she stays living in one place too long, always searching for new scenery and new experiences. I can’t really fault her for that. I felt the same way until I started truck driving. Now I’ve seen it all, and my yearning to experience new places has been pretty much sated. Plus, this town is way too tiny to hold someone like her for long. And besides, Tyler’s kids live up north, and when Megan became an instant mother to them, they’d decided they wanted to be near them all the time.
So we’d made a plan. When the lease was up, Shane and I would move into our own home somewhere in town, and she and Tyler would move north. Until then, Megan would continue to stay home and take care of the animals I couldn’t take with me on the truck, and I would go out with Shane and make sure the bills got paid. (She paid the rent, we paid the rest)
And then she lost her job. And she was flat broke. And the entirety of the bills fell on my shoulders. Shane and I were already drowning in debt, and now we had to add on an extra $1000 a month in bills. She applied for unemployment, and it was granted, but it would be weeks before she received her first check. I told her that I would cover the bills for now, and then when she got a check to give me what she could spare. (She had to feed her new kids after all). And by the time the first of December rolled around, she would have her share of the bills, and we would be square again. They’d decided to move out December 15th, so they could spend Christmas up there with his kids, so we decided that when Shane and I came home for thanksgiving, we’d have a little Christmas of our own, and have a proper goodbye before I left on the road again and they moved.
But then, last Monday, I saw a post on Facebook that she’d shared. It was a picture of a Christmas tree, and her post said they’d put up their Christmas tree finally. But the tree was in a room I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t our house, and her post made it clear that it was her tree.
So I called her. When she didn’t pick up, I called the house phone. No answer. So I tried calling her parents. Again, no answer. I started to panic. Had she moved already? Was she already gone, and was my house empty and my animals left there alone? She’s not the kind of person to abandon animals. She loves them like human beings. Surely she wouldn’t have moved yet, before I got home and had worked out the details.
But two hours later, she called me. And she told me that they’d already moved four days before. And that she’d left me a note.
A note.
My best friend left my life without even telling me, and all she’d left me was a note.
A fucking note.
I couldn’t believe it. I asked her why she didn’t tell me. She said because she thought it would be easier this way. And she didn’t know how.
She’s moved away from me a couple times before. And yes, both times were hard, but we’d been able to say goodbye, give each other a hug, and tell each other good luck and we’d visit soon.
But this time, she denied me my goodbye. I hadn’t wanted her to move away in the first place. Not only am I gone all the time, but she now lives several hours away, and the chances of me visiting often are slim. She’s my best friend. My soul mate. And she just…left me. Just like that.
She told me her parents were staying at the house and taking care of things until I got back. This is not unusual. Her parents live in a motor home, constantly changing their scenery, and they spend a lot of time camped out in our (my) backyard. They come and go, and I love them dearly. Though they’re a little strange and a bit hard to swallow at times, they are my family as much as Megan’s. She told me that she and Tyler couldn’t wait until I could come up to visit, and sounded very much like the best friend I had been missing. But other than that conversation, we never spoke.
It had been several months since she’d started dating Tyler, and during that time, she never messaged me, never called or tagged me in a post. Basically, it was as if she didn’t even exist in my life at all. It’s been rough, and I miss her so much.
But the worst part…
Yesterday, I turned 30. Yesterday was my birthday, and Shane made sure we didn’t have a load so that I could spend my birthday doing something other than driving. I stayed awake for more than 24 hours, not wanting to miss a single moment of it.
I’d been feeling really depressed since Megan had told me she’d left. The following night, I had cried and cried pretty much the entire night, driving through Wyoming and Nebraska, feeling so low and wretched and abandoned by her that I just couldn’t keep the tears from coming. I don’t cry. Even when I feel the need to cry, tears don’t come easily to me. And as I’ve said, I’m a happy person. I very rarely have any need to cry. If I’m not feeling elated or energized or excited, I’m pretty much emotionless. So spending 9 hours crying behind the steering wheel of a big rig was really hard.
So my 30th birthday was spend in this cataclysmic roller coaster of emotions; depression and uncertainty among the most prominent. I’m one of those people that can’t force myself to not smile. I literally cannot keep a grin off my face when I think of something I find funny. But yesterday, I barely smiled or laughed at all. I was constantly worrying, constantly trying to convince myself that my friendship wasn’t over, that my soul mate hadn’t abandoned me, that it was early days yet and things would settle down and I would go and visit her when I could.
I spent the day responding to phone calls, text messages, Facebook posts, and relays from Shane’s friends, family and friends and distant friends all wishing me a happy birthday and joking that I was old now. (Don’t remind me. While I don’t view 30 as being old, I have a substantial fear of mortality, and I’ve been feeling as if I’m wasting my life away driving a truck I never wanted to begin with.) All day I read messages, talked to family and friends, spent time with my husband.
And all day I waited for the one message I wanted more than anyone else’s.
Megan has been the first person, every year, to wish me a happy birthday. She’s called me at midnight. She’s set up romantic dates for us at Olive Garden, complete with 29 long stemmed peach roses (my favorite rose) and bottles of wine. (Yes, my best friend and I went on numerous dates with each other. Date your best friend. Seriously. Try it.) She’s gotten ahold of my favorite band, and had them write out a personal Happy Birthday message to me, framing it and giving it to me last year. She was the first and only person to ever throw me a surprise party. She’s paid for manicures and pedicures, even though those aren’t really my thing, taken me to movies, bought me gifts that no one else would think to get me. She’s always been the first one. Even when she lived in California and we hadn’t spoken for months, she made sure to call me on my birthday.
But yesterday, though I got dozens of well wishes, hers never came.
I watched the clock tick down all night last night. 11:30. 11:45. 11:53. 11:59. And my best friend’s message never came through. And now, at this point, I am truly sinking into a pit of despair.
My best friend, soul mate, partner in crime, my world, my everything…
Forgot my birthday.
What has happened? How is this possible? How is it that only a week ago I thought everything was fine, and I was elated and happy, singing to the world and daydreaming every waking moment, dreaming about the future, looking forward to my private little Christmas with my little family in my big beautiful house? Concocting new ideas on how I was going to decorate my room when I moved back into it. Thinking about all the things I was going to buy for Megan, and the postcards I would send her, and the stupid little Open When letters I never got around to finishing.
How had all of that been pulled away from me in one…lousy…week?
How had I spend my 30th birthday without hearing from the one person I needed the most?
When had I really lost her?
Facebook tells you when it’s someone’s birthday. So long as their birthday is public. Mine is. And everyone knew it was my birthday. Megan was on Facebook a couple times yesterday. Facebook would have let her know. So either she is so busy with her new family and really forgot, or she didn’t care.
I know it might seem like I’m jumping to conclusions, but put yourself in my shoes? How would you feel if you were in my position? How would you react if someone so close to you, so important to you, suddenly stopped putting you first in their life? Or even second? Or third? How would you feel if everything you’d been planning and dreaming for with your best friend had suddenly been ripped away.
My mind is a cacophony of emotions. Its running way too fast and too cluttered and I can’t keep up. I can’t keep the despair away, can’t tell my brain to shut up and be logical. I’ve spent the last week second guessing myself to death, only to have my worst fears seemingly confirmed with the absence of one tiny little message that would have taken her 15 seconds to write and send.
15 seconds.
All I am asking from her now, after all this time and all we’ve been through, is 15 fucking seconds of her time.

It is now well into the next day, and still I have not heard from her. Still, she hasn’t picked up the phone and said; “Sorry, I spaced it. We’ve been really busy here.” And I’m honestly starting to lose faith that I will even see that message.
My entire world has been upended in the lack of one message. How is it possible that something so small and seemingly unimportant can have that much of an impact on someone’s life? On someone’s mental health?
Has anyone else experienced something like this before? Is there anyone out there that has survived this? Than can help me try to understand why I feel so abandoned and hopeless, and help me get past it?
Please, please let someone know what it is I’m feeling. I am so tired, and so hurt, and I don’t know how to make it go away. I really need some support from someone, and sadly, my husband isn’t exactly the cry-on-my-shoulder type. I’m all alone out here on the road, living truck stop to truck stop, waking up in a different city every night, and there is no one to talk to. I really need help. Really need advice. There are only so many things that can distract you when you spend every waking moment behind a steering wheel.
Please, if someone can help me…

Sorry I went on so long. Thank you for giving me a few minutes of your time. That was all I wanted.

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