Dear Leslie

Dear Leslie,

I have been watching Firefly Lane on Netflix. It completely mimics our relationship. The good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful, the no one will understand but you. You were my best friend. The person that I counted on more than my spouse. You were there for it all. My very first friend when I moved to Moorhead when I was 14 years old. I was completely miserable, even suicidal. I could feel you watching me, observing me-deciding if I was worth the risk or challenge of your 9th grade popularity. You were always the loudest girl in the room. Most often the funniest (even you are your best audience). 

Now we are 43 years old and thousand of miles apart. You in Florida. Me still here. I think about you every day. I miss you. But, I also understand why we can't be friends anymore. There is too much history. Growing up I read books, many of them reflection pieces. The authors explaining years past, I never understood why they couldn't make it right with their past. But, sometimes relationships have seasons. Right now ours feels like a long, dormant winter sprinkled with a little bit of COVID. We have had this complex of always wanting to save each other. That no longer happens, because it is better for us to save ourselves.

I was angry with you about the affair when I got the blame. I was angry at you for all the counseling you took where you when through a metamorphosis of turning into Oprah. Always talking in the third person and analyzing every situation from an angle of abuse or cowering over it with judgement.

Since Erik has died, I have not been perfect. But, I have been striving to be better. When you called me and told me I was an alcoholic, I wanted to come through the phone and shake you. How dare you. Not because I haven't thought some of those same thoughts in the past. Because you have not been here. Do I drink more than some? Probably. Could I be considered a functioning alcoholic? In the medical terms, for sure. But, I am a damn good mother. I am a provider. I do not miss any of my children's' activities to travel or ignore what is right in front of me.

I feel like you left here to escape. To not face what was right in front of you because you are so worried what other people think, you can't own who you really want to be.

Teenagers

Anthony, our eldest, just stormed out of here upset with me. I made him go to his hockey tournament this weekend. The team that we collectively went back and forth on him joining. I am currently ruining his life because I am making him follow through on a commitment. Commitment, oh that word always gets me. People always say with such gumption," You made a commitment!!!" We have this guilt as a society that we do not want to look like the snowflake, the person that is hesitant or wary in a situation. Being strong to that commitment can really screw with a persons psyche. You can go as deep as the sanctity of a marriage or whether you want to have that drink or not? Go deeper-do you believe in God? If you don't, do you reveal that to others? Because that is not accepted. Or do you want to commit to a cold or iced coffee on a winters day when it is cold as ice out, but cold coffee just sounds better. These are all commitments that we choose and follow through on. Part of me wants to recognize that he is feeling like he is not playing to his potential and wants to quit, owning that its okay because I don't want his heart to hurt. The other part of me just screamed," Too bad, you made a commitment to your team. To my wallet. We are not quitters." But, doesn't he have that right. It is his commitment, not mine.

Deep inside, I also feel like a hypocrite. Commitment is hard for me, too. On many levels-whether it is marriage (divorced X1, cancelled wedding X1), changed jobs multiple times, and man do I go back and forth on iced versus hot Carmel Macchiatos on a daily basis. GAHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Do as I say, not as I do. Do as I say, not as I do. Do as I say, not as I do.