A Particular Friendship : Puff's Cave by Liz O'Neill |
My relationship with Dodie began to mirror the interactions I’d had in my grammar school days. It mimicked the heartbreak when my best friend no longer wanted to hang out with me. There were other exciting interests, the older kids. Dodie, the woman who lived in the upstairs apartment from me, with whom Id been in a romantic relationship, slowly drifted from spending time with me. We had originally enthusiastically planned to have apartments with a stairway to connect them. One day, for no obvious reason, Dodie stopped speaking to me. The woman I trusted and loved had been waiting for a fellow to reach his year of sobriety to gain him as a boyfriend. One of the sayings that has repeatedly helped me, especially in times like this, is, ‘Some are sicker than others and some are sicker than most.’ It was excruciatingly difficult for me to live in the downstairs apartment from someone with whom I had shared so much and who now no longer spoke to me. Eventually, I changed things in my heart and chose not to initiate any words, not even a greeting. That way, I stopped setting myself up for hurt. In the beginning, I'd thought this woman to be like the blood sister I'd never had, but now, she was just like the sister I had. And who needs another one of those? I didn't know what good would come of all of it, but worked very hard to believe things would come out all right in the end. Having someone with whom you are stuck to like Velcro, I discovered, can certainly take up a lot of lonely time. I kept busy, having fun and doing things I never, ever would have done and certainly never would have dreamed of doing. I got to ride atop a huge elephant at a bazaar day -- bizarre? Dodie introduced me to a new side of myself. Only much later did I realize these dreams were within me, long before this. As resolute searcher, I only needed someone to help me discover them. For a long time, it seemed, my girlfriend had revealed a precious gift for me to hold and cherish. In one dark, bewildering second, it snatched it away. I was unable to see the gifts once revealed, were not lost, only in the shadows again. I was like Puff, in one of my favorite songs, ‘Puff the Magic Dragon.’ One line in particular describes the situation well: ‘Without his lifelong friend, Puff could not be brave and so he sadly slipped back into his cave.’ Without my friend to do fun things in between work, I didn't know how to fill up my time. And for a short while, I lost all enthusiasm for life. I retired to my cave for some time, favoring the darkness. While I was venturing with this new friend, I forgot I had two other friends. Bobbie, whom I'd known for over twenty years and Malinda, whom I'd known nearly ten. Like loyal friends, they just hung back while I 'did my thing'. Having seen this pattern before, they knew I’d be back. We have remained dear friends to this day. I'd put thoughts of them aside for a long time and had been very short in conversations with them if I saw them at a grocery store. All Dodie had to say was, ‘I’ll be waiting out in the car," I said a quick ‘goodbye’ to my longtime friends. I was aware of the label ‘co-dependency’ and knew I vigorously practiced it. I eventually learned this when I read Robin Norwood's book 'Women Who Love Too Much. ' Like every other addiction, that kind of relationship is cunning, powerful and baffling. I don't think I’ve ever seen a co-dependent relationship end happily. They're usually very messy. Al-Anon prevented this one from becoming messy from my perspective, anyway. Maybe this disease wasn't going to kill me like it did her mother, but it certainly killed my spirit. It killed my mother's spirit and then it killed her body that housed that spirit. My mother never found Al-Anon and never realized she had choices. Instead, my sweet mother kept her feelings to herself, which grew into resentments and then began festering inside her and developed into terminal cancer. I know I can't afford to hold onto any resentment for very long, because I know that for me, resentments can kill. Many an evening, many a weekend, Lizzy sat in her new home trying to sort things out and not doing a very good job of it. She just didn't know what to do next. My head told me I Should be deliriously happy. My heart told me I was in darkness and uncomfortably numb. It was as if I had fallen to the bottom of a deep, dark well covered with suffocating water, through which it seemed no light could pierce. My friend Malinda who she had forgotten for so long in my whirlwind relationship with Dodie, threw down a rope with a big lantern on it, for me to take hold of and do the hard work of climbing back up, step by step, into daylight. I had taught myself to play guitar about four years into the convent. I’d met other sisters who played and heard songs I liked and thought it’d be nice to be able to play them. When I knew the strict rules had faded regarding owning things, I asked her mother to buy a beginner guitar. Mother thrilled at the prospect of being able to buy something for her daughter. Beginning the long task of building up enough calluses so the pads of my fingers didn’t burn and turn into big blisters seemed an eternity. It was nothing like the torture of the inquisition I am sure I endured in another lifetime, but at periods the pain of new blisters was discouraging. How does one sing, hold a tune, keep rhythm and hide the howl of pain? At the same time, a new woman entered the convent. The physical building which housed us for our medieval times in the Novitiate, was for lack of new entries, repurposed. A new postulant and friend became a part of the big house population with her private director. When she took up guitar, I was elated. Since the scourge of particular friendships was nearly forgotten, I had someone to help me pace myself. I realized I wasn’t adept at changing chords but was motivated to practice harder and make quick progress. The two of us, played many songs appropriate for Mass, the daily religious ceremony, requiring singing and thus a perfect opportunity for the fresh guitarists to accompany.
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Liz O'Neill
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