friends. or, my cheesy hallmark sentiment.
You know those corny 'Friendships are Forever' chain letter emails you get in your inbox every week? Usually sent from someone like your sweet, conservative Aunt Jane or a long-ago friend you haven't seen in years but whose idea of 'keeping in touch' is passing along said forwards? The ones where each line of cheap poetry is punctuated by a picture of a teddy bear giving a rabbit a hug or blooming flowers or little kids holding hands in a Precious Moments figurine-style pose? Yeah. I hate those. As a general rule (let's say 99% of the time), I roll my eyes and click 'delete' before I can even skim to the third line.

So bear with me while I get a little mawkish here, myself. I am so utterly grateful for the friends I have these days. I've had a rough month. Really rough. Between the AJ situation, the visit to my grandparents, and the fact that my friend Jennifer's mother died a few days ago (she didn't even like me, and I didn't like her, either, but the whole thing is still heartbreaking), I felt like I was losing my mind. Any one of these things by itself would be hard enough, though not insurmountable, but having all this emotional trauma pile on without relenting was finally taking its toll. For the past two weeks I've felt bland, empty; like a dead weight just going through the paces of every day.

If this had happened a few years ago, when I was still in college and somewhat isolated, it would have been even worse. I'm not a hermit, but I can be a solitary creature. Maybe it comes with the 'writer' label, but while I don't worry about a whole lot in life, when something big happens, I brood. And think too much. And get demoralized. On occasion, I need someone to kick me in the ass and make me get out and realize that life does, in fact, go on.

I'm jealous of close-knit families. While I've never doubted my parents' love or affection for me, it's rarely shown, and never in the form of words. We're all emotionally distant. No one really discusses their problems, and if someone tries, it's met with awkward silence -- easy to mistake for apathy or disinterest -- because the others don't know what to say. When my sister walked in the back door in February 2004, crying, and said her husband was leaving her, my parents sat in stony, stunned silence on the couch while the UK basketball game blared in the background. Yeah. So I've always felt like I'm on my own as far as they're concerned, because they don't know how to handle psychological issues.

But I've had the good fortune of meeting many people over the years -- from grade-school classmates to friends just made this past weekend -- who have really, really helped me a lot the past few weeks, whether they realize the impact their actions had or not. You guys read and listened and left comments to let me know you understood. Amy, Jacob, and Josh from work took me out two nights to cheer me up the week I broke up with AJ. Jennifer Chadd called from Colorado to check on me and commiserate. John, who I hadn't even really talked to in weeks or even months, drove all the way to Lexington to spend a Saturday night with me so I wouldn't be stuck at home alone. Heather has been helping me plan another big girls' night out for next month, and invited me to tag along to St. Louis for a weekend trip. Jenny coerced me out several nights and let me tag along to Chicago for Pizzafest (and TMNT madness, of course). Her friend Ashley, who's just experienced a breakup herself, was also on the trip and we got to talk through a lot of our shit. Hell, tonight Jacob even changed the rear brake pads on my car -- and wouldn't take any money -- because I'd already spent $1300 on maintenance and was despairing about paying another $180 to get it done in the shop.

And here's where I'll get really bad. Michelle, who I've known since the third grade, has been the most levelheaded, reliable, supportive friend I've ever had. I was driving home from work last week, thinking about the advice she's given me, and I realized that no matter how long we go without talking to each other, or how distant I think we may be, when things get truly, unbearably rough, I turn back to her. And she always answers. When Lauren wrecked and I was sitting on the side of the road at 2AM in tears, I called her, despite not having seen her in months. When Aaron broke my heart, she insisted I come stay with her for the evening, made me margaritas, and didn't press me for details until I was ready to talk (three days later). This month, she spoke to me for hours as I agonized, telling me exactly what I needed to hear and pulling no punches, and never once complained or twisted the subject. Do you know how rare that is? I don't even know how to express my gratitude for selflessness like that.

An ex once told me, with nothing short of amazement in his voice, that I had "so many friends." He, apparently, had very few, and I think speaking this realization out loud disturbed him. I didn't know what to say -- was it just a statement, a compliment, wishful thinking, or jealousy? And while I'm not sure how to define 'a lot' -- it's a relative number -- I have to agree. And it's nice to know that when life isn't treating you so well, there are people out there who care enough to give you a little boost, in whatever way they can.