The Girl who Sets my Heart on Fire

I spend a lot of time on my blog telling you about my friends that are men. Talking about the lessons they have taught me. The types of relationships I have with them. The type of person I have become as a result of their friendship. As a result I feel I have neglected to tell you about a friendship I have with one of my sisters which likely rivals the friendship I have with the person I openly refer to as my best friend.

She is four years younger than me and full of more fire than I could ever know what to do with. I love her to death despite the amount of times I could have justifiably told her to back the fuck off. She negotiates like a professional lobbyist, she is smarter than she gives herself credit for, she has had my back through mental break downs I didn’t realize were happening until they were over, and most importantly she is the first person to step forward when I need a girls night filled with microwavable appetizers and 4 bottles of wine.

As a result of being friends with men I have stopped understanding the importance of occasionally expressing emotion, particularly when I am afraid. I am good at giving away pieces of my life to strangers in a way which makes them feel as if I have opened up to them when in reality I am only making a highly calculated move. It is the moments when I am sitting alone terrified of myself or my life which determine who my real friends are, what select person do I reach out to in that moment of darkness, who do I call to calm my mind?

Friendships have seasons and throughout my life that select person has changed more times than I could easily count. I moved around a lot as a child and didn’t have a true person I could call a friend until I was well though high school. The changing of seasons doesn’t bother me. I understand that it happens, that peoples lives unsync from each other, goals and aspirations change, the same way a couple falls out of love a friendship is severed.  What does bother me is when the changing of seasons happens at a monumental part in one or both peoples lives. It is the true test of friendship and it scares the shit out of me. Which is why this girl is so important to me.

On Monday I received news I have been expecting for a long time. After years of battling with migraines, cluster headaches, and various other concerning neurological symptoms I was referred to a neurologist; who then referred me to another more specialized neurologist out of concern for my condition, who then referred me to yet again another more specialized neurologist. I have no idea what could possibly be wrong with me. I have no idea what could have caused two neurologists to think they were unable to treat me and refer me to another.

Long story short, I’m terrified. Until Monday evening the only people who knew about my appointment with the neurologist was my best friend and my parents. The only people who knew the full extent of my neurological symptoms were my best friend and my neurologist. I love my parents to death but they are not the kind of people with whom I can express concern about my health or well being. Any discussion of fear is promptly responded with a conversation on how the cost of diagnosis or treatment is a burden our family is unprepared to handle.

Removing my parents from the list of people I could talk to about the fear of my impending appointment left a list of one. One person with whom at that point on Monday night when I was panicking more than ever I was unable to reach. Monday night I made the decision to call the sister who until that point I would like to hope had no idea I was the kind of person who could get that scared.

The reason I like to confide in my male friends about my fears is because they tend to react with neutral emotional response. Men wait until they have all the facts before they begin to contemplate a reaction. Men stand firm and men respond reasonably. At least the men I choose to associate with. Monday night she joined the boy’s club. I prefaced my call by telling her she wasn’t allowed to be emotional, my parents lack of emotion to the situation had caused me to become emotional enough for everyone in my life and she was required to fill in as my brick wall.

I love this girl to death and I am so sorry she had to be the first person to hear me cry about what I’m about to experience. In ten hours I will be meeting with my third neurologist in a week. In ten hours I will hopefully be a little bit closer to answers and a little bit less terrified. Until then I have a girl who is filling in a spot I hope is only temporary. Until then I’m going to let my wall down a little bit, because if anyone steps on my toes about the amount of fear I have for what the neurologist may or may not tell me I know I have someone by my side who can help me hide the body.

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