I am frustrated.

And what’s even worse than that is that I am really really pissed at myself for being frustrated.

And, what’s more, I’m unbelievably ashamed at my actions and for even taking the time and effort to have the aforementioned emotions. 

And, most of all, I’m embarrassed at my audacity and complete lack of humility and my shameless, chronic need to give/force my opinion (whether it’s right or not) to everysingleperson in my life. 

So here’s the backstory. In brief. In attempting a peaceful friendship with a man with whom I was once romantically involved, I’ve been able, up until now, to detach myself completely from what is going on in his personal life, including his love life. The knowledge that none of his actions in either aspect of his life no longer had anything to do with me personally was incredibly liberating and I found myself able to step back and watch objectively, without judgment, and only offering an opinion when asked for one and, even then, being able to give an emotionally-detached, unbiased opinion. 

Healthy, right?

But somewhere down the line, I started tampering with fire a little too hard, feeling old frustrations with this man and his actions creeping up that I laid to rest years upon years ago. Suddenly I am passionately pleading with him to consider how his flighty decisions really affect these women he adamantly claims to care about. I am trying to illustrate to him that, while his motivations are different this time around, his actions and habits haven’t budged at all. Mostly, though, I’m still trying to get him to understand that his continual misuse of the word “love” has caused people that trust him with their hearts to believe that he has absolutely no idea what this word means and has no value on the act of sputtering it out. 

And last night, for the first time in years, I lay awake feeling my frustrations and powerlessness toward this one specific man building inside of me, despite my constant attempts to redirect my thoughts and get the fuck over it. I mean, for Christ’s sake, at least in the past this had something to do with me and my personal life, but right now it absolutely does not. 

I know this is my fault. I knew the exact specifications of this man’s character when I agreed to attempt a relationship with him and I knew that, after years of begging him to hear me, I was never going to get through no matter how much time and energy and emotion I put into trying. I really thought that I’d accepted that.

What’s ironic about this situation is that I’ve spent so much time trying to get him to see that his redundant behavior is hurtful and fruitless, I’ve failed to see that I’m engaging in the exact same thing. I’ve spent the better part of a decade trying to get through to this man about these exact issues and I know deep in my heart that me nor anyone else is going to be able to convince him otherwise. I’ve known this for years, in fact. I spent many years after I realized this fact still pressing on, knowing that my efforts would always be fruitless. There is great shame on me for doing it all over again, no matter the good intentions I’ve always had. And I’m even more ashamed because this man has only listened to me and my emotional diatribes, without calling me on my inappropriate involvement and asking me to back the fuck off and let him live his life for a change. 

Insanity is repeating the same thing over and over and expecting different results.

This is why I am livid with myself. Not only did I break a promise to myself that I would never waste so much time and energy being frustrated and trying to change this man’s views, but, in doing so, I am being incredibly unfair to my husband and family. If my husband was spending nights awake in agitation about his former lover’s current habits and love life, I would be more devastated and hurt than I can fathom. In spending time on this, I am betraying the love and devotion I have to my husband both as a lover and as a friend and, for that, I am incredibly ashamed. 

The other thing that adds to this frustration is the inherent knowledge that, as per habit, this whole emotional crisis is of no concern to anyone else, including this man involved. Naturally this reiterates the glaring fact that this whole inner struggle and sleepless concern is completely pointless and a massive waste of time and energy in general. This, also, hurts very badly in its intense familiarity. 

Because ultimately, it doesn’t matter how this man conducts himself in regards to my reality. While I have a tendency to get emotionally involved out of having experienced this man’s habits, they no longer apply to me, my life, my character, my personality whatsoever. And really, they never actually did in the first place. Although you couldn’t have convinced me in the past, this man’s repeated betrayal of my trust, denial of my love, conditional emotions, ever-straying affections never for a moment had anything to do with me. Or really, any other woman with whom he’s had emotional ties. I know this with every fiber of my being, without so much as a glimmer of doubt… or grief anymore. I learned this many years ago as I began working on my own recovery and it was this knowledge that lead me to believe I could carry on a platonic relationship with this man, safe in the knowledge that his actions couldn’t hurt my sense of self-worth anymore. This was simply something I’d learned to accept in any relationship I had with this man, whether romantic or otherwise. I was genuinely okay with that. 

So shame on me for crossing the line [yet again]. I am so embarrassed to have let myself become so emotionally involved with this ancient problem of mine [yet again], and even more mortified and ashamed because this time, it could not be less of my business to start with. This man actually never asked for this, he only rarely asked for my input and opinions and I should have left it at that, unbiased, detached, focused on my own life, just like any other platonic relationship on the globe. This is me having to meddle, having to try to fix everything and everyone, having to have control over everything I can. This is typical alcoholic behavior if I’ve ever seen it and I am having to force myself to forgive and forget this slip-up and move on. 

As a friend (or someone who’s honestly trying to be just that), my emotional opinion is neither relevant nor appropriate. My emotional arguments are unwarranted and inexcusable and my inherent need to try to change people is a flaw that has run more than one friend off. As a friend, my only role is to listen, give support when asked for it, accept my friend’s shortcomings for what they are, perhaps be a little grateful that my romantic life no longer resembles this sort of ongoing drama, and stop myself right there. Anything else is unfair to pretty much everyone involved, including myself. 

So, it looks like today I’m having to start over again. I’ve got to stop feeling sorry for my own stupid mistakes and start working to be a functional, sane friend to everyone who chooses to give me that title. 

Dammit. Why can’t I just function like a normal, emotionally-harnessed person for one time in my life? Would it kill me to not shamelessly, unabashedly fling myself and my emotions into every possible situation for one effing time? You’d think I’d have learned by now.