I'm supposed to write

This weekend I decided to finish my taxes instead of write about my feelings over a friend's death. I haven't ever submitted my taxes to the accountant in February, or in March for that matter.

My friend Jenn Bayles died from GIST (a cancer) last Thursday. I was very surprised at my reaction which was flat and apathetic. In therapy Thursday afternoon I described my feelings. Ever watchful, suspicious and wise, my therapist asked some probing questions. I admitted I was angry that Jenn hadn't handled her death the way I thought she should have. I admitted that I have absolutely no right to have an opinion on her death either.

More questions followed. Lots more. I realized that I am feeling very concerned about her boys. It came out that in my mind she was a terrific mother, and it makes me angry that she didn't get to stay and see her children grow into men. I feel sorry for the children who didn't get much time with her, and I envy them for the time they did have as it is ten times the amount I had with my own mother.

And that is, I'm ashamed to say, the focus of this whole event...me. It's always me. I pray every day to be relieved of the bondage of myself, and yet every day, this is whose skin I'm in. Jenn never seemed self-obsessed, she was generous and always serving or thinking of others. I don't know how she did it, obviously, or I'd be emulating her more readily.

Here's another fun fact, I don't feel apathetic at all. I feel ashamed of my true feelings, so I am suppressing them. You may be able to tell by looking at my body that I am a master of suppressing my feelings. It takes a lot of work and a lot of food to keep these feelings from surfacing, but I am an old pro. In fact, these days it's an automatic response to just flatten every emotion out into something acceptable.

Therapy helps me to see that not having feelings was essential to my success and survival as a child. I saw my role as "Cinderella" and therefore vital to family happiness. I saw it as critical that I stay quiet and hard-working. I believed I would get in trouble for having big feelings and so flattened out my emotions while simultaneously building huge resentments towards a sister who got to throw tantrums and be rotten (aka "normal"). I also created a myth of me being the good one. This was a lie, but it was comforting to have a fairy tale in which I was the heroine. It seemed so important to have a role and a responsibility. Now it just seems embarrassing. Now I am ashamed of all the drama I held inside or only released in small bursts of cruelty to myself and others. My myth was comforting, but it really was a big lie.

I feel icky right now. icky.

I am very sad that my friend died at the age of 42. I feel sad that I wasn't the perfect friend to her. I feel angry too. I am angry that she died. I miss her. Yesterday I was texting a friend (Jenny) and came across Jenn's name in my phone. I won't need that going forward and that makes me sad too. Death is always a time to reflect on life. Going forward I hope that mine continues on a trajectory of improvement.