Resolution: An End to Begging for Crumbs

The most amazing fact about resolution is that it isn’t an act of reaching common ground with another person, but finding resolve within yourself.

The Christmas season came and went. It was particularly trying for me. Little had I realized its concealed importance in my relationship with the SoHB. I never believed it to have any special meaning for us. Other than a cursory exchange of gifts and spending New Year’s Eve at the same parties, we observed no holiday traditions together. Even when we dated, it wasn’t an especially romantic season. But this year, as my ex-co-worker friends began their two-week holiday, I was flooded with nostalgia for Christmases past. It was at this time that most of our circle left town to be with family or used the holiday for road trips. Being natives of this city, the SoHB and I were always at loose ends. We relied upon each other for company more than ever. During the holidays, we were nearly all we had.

The feeling of loss began with wondering if he missed me at all … if he was experiencing the same sad nostalgia. I wondered if he wistfully remembered how we used to meet at Drayton Place or Paddy’s for drinks, eat at favorite restaurants which were distant from work, and talk on the phone constantly. I wondered if he wished those days hadn’t ended as I do. Something told me he must. In his last e-mail, he said that he guessed we wouldn’t be attending the same New Year’s Eve party this year. But if he felt a twinge of sadness, I know it was easily resolved with a call to her. For him, being without me didn’t really mean being without. For me, there was nothing new to replace old memories.

On the brighter side, having been away from work for months, I didn’t feel the loneliness that normally accompanied the days apart from friends. If there were any gaps, my family filled them superbly. I also had a purpose once Christmas passed ... preparing for the New Year’s Eve party. But, pain struck at unusual moments. While browsing through a book store for Christmas gifts, I was stricken with an unbidden fear of running into them together. Once acknowledged, the fear would rear again on subsequent shopping trips. You never know who you’ll encounter during the bustle of the season. I had to talk myself down every time. During a family Christmas party, I felt an intense urge to flee because displaying cheerfulness all day had become an overwhelming burden. Then, while listening to a newly recorded song by my nephew on Christmas Day, I darted out of the room and hid to avoid crying in front of everyone. I broke down at the line that said, “No excuse for me to be here. No excuse for me to be here still.” One small grace was that I had forgotten my cell phone. It remained home while I stayed with my parents a few days. It couldn’t torture me with the silent mockery of an absent holiday phone call. I felt empowered knowing that, while he wouldn’t attempt to call, I wasn’t available to him if he did.

I felt surprisingly fine after Christmas Day. A resigned sadness remained, but it wasn’t nearly so haunting. There was work to be done: a house to be cleaned (or made to look clean), food to be prepared, and decorations to finish. I didn’t have time for wallowing. Over the last month I felt rather self-satisfied that I planned the New Year’s Eve party with no ulterior motives. There was no particular man for whose attention I aspired. While longing for a midnight kiss, only The Flirt might oblige me, and his attendance was doubtful. It seemed I conquered my weakness for planning parties with unreasonable expectations, but I realized the day before the party that I wasn’t quite free. My motivation had merely shifted enough to escape detection. What I wanted this time was to throw a party which would be talked about for days. I wanted it to be gossiped around the water cooler. I wanted the SoHB to hear how great it was and feel the regret of missing out. I had even planned the theme with him in mind … an indicator of my new attitude. “Kiss Off 2004,” read the invitations. Even after making that discovery, I felt self-satisfied. So, I did have an ulterior motive after all. At least this one was well within reach. They still talk about my last party, and that was over a year ago!

My sister helped with last minute preparations. Rachel* came over early to help, as well. We spent every minute in action, even past 8 o’clock - show time. Eight-thirty passed, and still no one. The minutes ticked past 9 o’clock without an extra soul arriving. Despite trying to remain positive, I couldn’t hide the disappointment. Miranda* finally entered at a quarter past. Other guests began arriving, but none of the friends I considered so dependable. Out of all my guests present at midnight, only three were from my old company. The majority were family and a few friends of my nephew. The complete guest count was nine. (One other work-friend stopped by as the party waned, bumping the night’s total to ten.)

Rachel and I were in such disbelief at the turn-out, she started calling around to find out where everyone was. Big Red* claimed to have drunk too much during a football game, and he was too depressed with its results to party. His roommate’s excuse was a bad back. My guitar friend, who intended to come, couldn’t be reached. The Flirt had been uncertain about leaving his Illinois family in time for the party, but was found visiting a “friend” in Kentucky. Our last phone call, made to Ditsy*, revealed that The Flirt had just met his “friend” at the recent company conference. Ditsy said she might come by, but she first had to call Big Red to see what he was doing. In other words, none of them came, all offering lame excuses. While everyone else reveled outside, I retreated to my bedroom to indulge in a couple of tears.

At midnight, everyone donned silly hats, twirled their noise-makers, and lit sparklers. The atmosphere picked up and my mood instantly lifted, never faltering again. The party was a success despite the low turn-out. I’m humbled that its salvation came mainly from my nephew and his friends, who had never been to my house. I hope they enjoyed it enough to return. But my perspective about my friends has shifted. I was always the organizer; planning our events, notifying everyone about them. Most often there was satisfactory participation. Sometimes there wasn’t, and sometimes there was too much. I enjoyed my role of “social butterfly.” Perhaps, since it was opposite from the “loner” role I lived in school, it made me feel secure. It made me feel popular. But, after leaving my company, after going through all the trauma with the SoHB, and after being let down on several occasions (of which the party was a culmination), I see how much unreturned effort I’ve made in maintaining friendships. I feel taken for granted … unappreciated … disrespected. Everything has been lopsided, so I’m pulling back. I’m abdicating a bulk of the responsibility to them. If I allow myself to do all the work, I’ll wear myself out. It’s not that I should do nothing, but that I shouldn’t be so eager for their company that I allow disrespect. The same mistake I made with the SoHB has been made with all my friends. This was a year of revelation, a year for renewal, and a chance for change. I finally feel confident that I have made commendable effort at being a good friend … that there is a point when I must step back, let go and see what happens. I am resolved that the outcome, whatever it may be, will be right for me.

Happy New Year, everyone.

* = Names have been changed to protect those whom I like.