I hate posts about how sorry bloggers are they haven't been posting. So I am gonna skip that. (You either know or you don't care.) I also hate lack of context: So I will tell you that in the last year I have moved in with my partner, started a new business, quit an old job, and made a lot of life changes. (This, you already know. Or...You don't care.)
The thing is...I need to vent. I am boiling over, I want to be crazy and destructive (see: younger me). I think this is a reasonable alternative. So. I had great plans for my return to blogging. I have pictures. I have stories. I have idea on top of idea. I hope you get to see them. Apparently, I am doing this first.
So. (Apparently, I do that now, too. Treat "So" as a reasonable sentence. I also, apparently, now use the word "apparently" too much. We will discuss my obsession with ellipses at a later date...)
Let us say I have a..."friend." We will call her...Roxy. She is dear to me. A piece of my heart. Damage to her will mar me forever. With pain, with guilt, with sorrow, with anger...with so many things I cannot describe. There is not a name for our relationship. It is simply true that she lives inside me, always.
Roxy called me tonight. And I failed.
I failed: utterly, completely, and totally.
My phone died earlier in the day. It was charging in the other room. I thought I might have heard it ring...but I thought nothing of it. I thought it was another telemarketer...my mom with news I didn't want to hear...guilt from a neglected friendship...Fact of the god-damn-matter is...I KNEW I should have checked, but I didn't.
Well...Not for about 15 minutes, at least. And then I did. And I found that Roxy had called me not once, but twice. I would have run if I'd known it was her. I promise. I swear. On anything, on everything.
So. (Again. Ugh. Learn English, self.) I have a voice message of Roxy sobbing to me. About her current sorrows. About feeling "out of control." About "not knowing what" she is going to do. It isn't good language.
I only missed it by 15 minutes, but now she won't pick up my calls. She just texts to say she is "fine."
Rumor has it, she is addicted to heroin. Rumor has it, her boyfriend has had her hooked on pills for years. Rumor has it, she kicked him out today. Rumor has it, he is hiding her property from her--trying to hold her financially hostage. Rumor has it, he has hit her--Rumor has it, I have seen mild versions of this and done everything I could not to call the cops/hit him/shriek at him/make his life hell because she asked me not to. Rumor has it she changed the locks and is scared he will break in tonight. Rumor has it she won't let any of us who want to keep her safe near her (even if I am 3000 miles away) tonight.
Part of the problem is, I know the statistics. If he is abusive, now is when she is in the most danger (from him). If she is an addict, now is when she is in the most danger (from her use). If she is as alone and terrified and depressed as she sounded, now is when she is in the most danger (from herself).
And I can do nothing.
I am impotent. I am useless. I can do nothing.
Except say: I am sorry. I am sorry I missed your call. I am sorry I am 3000 miles away. I am sorry I told you to always have cab fare home, but forgot to tell you what to do when you hit rock-bottom. I hoped you would never get here. I hoped you would never need to know. Roxy, I have failed you (yet again, but that is an apology for another time. I am still haunted by the sound of your voice drifting through my wall...)
I really hope you make it through. No one knows where you are. Your excuses are...just that. Please live through tonight. Please. Please. If I had a god, I would beg him: Please.
Live through this experience. Live through this addiction. Come out the other side. I am so scared for you. I hope I get to show you this some day. Because you are okay, and we can look back on the dark times. We won't "laugh" exactly, but we will smile the grim smile of amusement and experience that comes from living through dark times and finding the good stuff again.
I REALLY want you to have the good stuff.
And, if you are not Roxy, thank you for bearing with me...or at least skipping over. The number of tears I have shed writing this convinces me of the necessity. I will try to get back to the drunken fun soon...
Come back Roxy. Even if you can't be Chow Lee anymore, or my Honey Bunches of Oats, just come back safe. You are so very loved.
