bump in the road

MJ came over last night. It is evident she is still struggling. Maybe struggling to figure herself out, maybe confused by her feelings, maybe unsure of what to do about our relationship now. I don’t really know, because she’s not talking to me about it. And maybe she doesn’t want to. Maybe she doesn’t need comfort or reassurance from me. Or maybe she doesn’t think that would be helpful for the detachment process. Whatever her reason, her comments were negative and without tact. I wondered why in the crap she had come over. I told her that if she wasn’t nice she could go home.

I was on my computer when she arrived. I had brought it up to the TV room, because my room downstairs is so cold this time of year. I was looking at Home Depot’s web page, trying to get some ideas about how I could improve the organization of our kitchen pantry. Its disarray drives me crazy. When she asked me what I was doing and I told her, she made some comment about how people’s lives just get more boring as they get older. I didn’t appreciate the insinuation. Then she went on about how old I was going to be next month, as if I needed to be reminded. I told her she was pushing buttons and she knew it, and that she’d better stop. We turned on a movie and she settled down. I think she was feeling bad about what she had said. At least I hoped so. I tried to watch the movie and ignore her, but the movie was terrible and I really didn’t care to watch it.

Maybe I wanted attention. Maybe I wanted her to know that I wasn’t mad, and that I understood she was experiencing something hard and that it was okay to feel whatever she was feeling. I started bugging her. Then the two young girls in the movie said something about how they would always be friends, and she said she doubted it, which was obviously meant to be heard. I got up and started poking at her, because she was sitting on the other side of the room. But she didn’t want to play. I didn’t want to watch the movie anymore, so I took my laptop and went downstairs. I felt like crying again, and I wasn’t sure why. Because I wanted to help and she wasn’t letting me? Because I wanted some acknowledgment or positive attention and she wasn’t willing to oblige? I don’t know for sure. I got ready for bed and I heard her go out the front door.

Normally she would have come down to my room to say goodnight. Maybe she thought I was mad at her, and I was, a little. But her coming down to my room to announce she was leaving would have been a better choice than just leaving. I don’t understand her reasons, but it hurt.