Today is the 20th. Three days after my birthday. I week since she left without telling me.

And I still haven’t heard from her.
Late in the day on the 18th, I finally posted on my facebook a general thank you to those who had given me their birthday wishes. I had hoped that I would have heard from her before then, but I couldn’t put it off anymore. Shortly after posting, I went to sleep.

As I’ve said, I sleep days, so later that night, when I woke, I checked my phone. I had several replies on my post, but none from Megan. No texts or snaps either. I felt like I was losing my mind. I just didn’t understand why I was so obsessed with this. I understood that she had just moved, and if she is anything like me (and she is pretty much exactly like me) then it would take her weeks to get things in order and settle down.

But I just couldn’t shut my brain off. I couldn’t stop that stupid dark feeling from clouding my mind. I didn’t get it. I had NEVER felt this way before. I’d always assumed I understood what depression was, but I had been wrong. It’s nearly impossible to understand what you’ve never experienced. And now I do. And I feel like crap for it. Now that I know how dark and encompassing and irrational it really is, I’ve realized that I haven’t been the best support for some of my friends who suffer from depression.

And at this point, I was in the thick of it.
My husband tried to be supportive, tried to understand why I was feeling so upset. He knows how much Megan means to me. He knows just how engrossed I am in our friendship. He hasn’t always liked it, but he’s never asked me to choose.

And I love him for that.

That day, he sat there and rubbed my back while I burst out in hysterical sobs for no reason at all, watched as the fits came and went and my moods changed drastically throughout the the day. He gave me hugs, held me by the shoulders, let me cry and complain and rationalize. This is not something he does. Emotions are very foreign to him. So it calmed me a little that he was trying. But in truth, I think the attention made it worse.

Yesterday, I woke up to a text from Megan. In it, she’d said she was sorry. That she hadn’t realized the date and that she was the worst BFF ever. (Her words). She asked me how my day went.

I told her the truth, for the most part. I told her how depressing it had been, and that I’d spent the following days Girl-Braining everything. She replied with a really strange and sexually referenced comment, and it made me a little confused. She didn’t talk like this. We texted back and forth a couple more times, then I told her I needed to get ready to drive, and that I loved her and missed her.

The message that came through after that said: “Oh, this is Tyler. Megan is out with my mom.”

So….the belated happy birthday text hadn’t even come from her.

It had come from Tyler.

I am…an absolute chaotic mess. I’m not crying, or freaking out, or suicidal or anything, I’m just…confused I think. Maybe like being in shock. I feel tight as a wire and emotionless as a rock, high as a kite and lower than the bowels of hell, all at the same time. I’m pissed and I’m hurt and relieved and sad and angry and I don’t know which way is up or which thought ends where!

I had always thought that heartbreak was just an expression, something you said to try to explain when you were hurting. In western culture, the seat of the emotions is in the heart, so mental pain is affiliated with the heart. A broken heart, heartache, they were all just words. I didn’t realize that these saying came about because you could actually FEEL it. You can actually feel that little muscle beneath your breastbone wrench and writhe, squeeze and contract. A literal, PHYSICAL heartache. I honestly had no idea it was real until that moment. When I realized she was gone.

I seriously feel that I’ve lost her, and it’s somewhere akin to losing a limb. Like my right hand is gone, but I can still feel it. I keep reliving memories from some of our excursions, and sometimes I have to catch myself because some of those memories are changing themselves. Things that were said suddenly change into different conversations, or a hat she had been wearing that day was a different color, or sometimes she fades away and I’m just talking to myself or someone else. And all at the same time, the world outside my truck windows is narrowing or disappearing, and I have to shake myself back to the present.

This is a very dangerous way to feel. I have to force myself to get over it, but I honestly have no idea how.

I talked to another friend about it today. One of my closest friends outside of Megan. She knows what depression is, and while I’ve never really viewed her as someone necessarily wise, at least she understood my chaos. It made me feel a little better. I feel like a little bit of the weight is gone, though not enough to really say I’m ok again. I still hurt. I still have a lot to figure out. And I know I’ll get there but….

It’s the meantime that I have a problem with.

Happy hurts sometimes….

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