Okay ... so I'm admitting it. I need therapy. No shit. No jokes. I need therapy.
I'm taking this on me. I'm admitting it's my problem. I'm admitting that no one else is to blame. I'm admitting that no one else but me can fix this.
My friend J sent me an odd e-mail this morning. It simply said, "Give me your opinion on this house ..." and below was a link to a realtor's listing.
It was a very nice, upscale house ... just a hair under $200k. I'm going to be honest ... I didn't look at the details of the house. I can't tell you how many rooms it had ... how many bedrooms or baths. I didn't look at the pictures of the rooms or the property. I just saw the large splash image on the top of the listing.
I wrote him back and said, "That's a nice looking house. Are you buying it with Stitcher?" He responded that he's already checked with the bank. Once his house sells, he'll be pre-qualified for $200k on his own ... without Stitcher's income. So the two of them are starting to look at houses now ... just to see what's on the market for when he gets his house sold.
I have so much resentment. Just so much. And as I said before ... this is on me. I'm not blaming him ... I'm not angry with him. I have this deep-down sadness that goes down to my bones ... and I know it isn't his fault.
I'm sad ... and a little angry ... because he lived in a shitty little house with my best friend. It was a dirty, run down little house. And now he's buying a $200k house with his new girlfriend ... with the money he got when she died. You know who would've loved to have lived in a $200k house? My best friend.
I'm not stupid. I'm not insane. Well, at least not clinically ...
I understand that none of this is J's fault. I don't think he should be sentenced to live in a small, dingy house the rest of his life just because that's where he lived with my friend. It's not like he killed her ... and he was her husband for twenty years ... so her life insurance should obviously have gone to him.
What I'm saying is that I recognize the logical side of this situation. I don't have a problem with who he is dating now ... or that he's dating at all. I don't have a problem with him moving. I don't have a problem with him being happy.
I guess if I'm psychoanalyzing myself ... I have an issue with the fact that he's living this new, garish lifestyle ... wine tastings and concerts every weekend ... and he's living it because we lost her.
Again ... I recognize logic. Maybe this is who he always was ... but he couldn't be that way when he was with my friend. She was far from perfect. She wasn't always an easy person to be with. And I know that even if they had that kind of money when she was alive ... the lifestyle he's living now isn't a lifestyle she would've agreed to. Her family was full of hopeless drunks. She was the only sober leaf on her family tree. So she wanted nothing to do with alcohol. So maybe he finally feels free to be the person he always wanted to be? Mentally I can accept that.
But emotionally ... these grand announcements of his? Each one feels like a punch to the chest.
Again ... not his fault ... but when he announced that he'll be taking Stitcher on a trip to London, Paris, and Rome in the spring ... my heart ached. And when he showed me that house today ... I teared up. I can't help thinking about that horrible house they lived in ... the tiny ramp ... the hospital bed along the living room wall and the potty chair next to the window ... cat hair a half inch thick on everything.
I know I've said it before ... but for me, I feel like when she died, a part of me died too. But I look at him and think, when she died, he hit the lottery.
I want to feel happy for him ... but all I can feel is sadness. And worst of all ... I dread the day that I know is coming. I dread the day I'm going to have to go to a lavish wedding and sit there and smile for everyone else ... while my heart breaks and I think to myself, "Her life insurance paid for this ..."
When the best part of me was always you?
And what am I supposed to say
When I'm all choked up and you're OK?
The Script - Breakeven