Marta ~ May 27

 

The day was light and summery, as was my mood, and she and I got on the phone for one of our regular catch-up-on-life chats. I've known Tamar for over 10 years. 

 

I remember the first time the glitch happened, fairly early in our friendship. We were walking, as we always did when we wanted to talk, which we did, once a day, taking a break from the office in which we both worked. I brought up how she had barked at me the day before when I had said something. She had jumped on me, shut me down in a flash and I had swallowed it at the time and moved us on, but the next day, I brought it up and she had apologized, saying, "I know, I'm sorry. I don't want you walking on eggshells around me."

 

But it continued to happen. Not every time. Not even often. But here and there, jumping out of the bushes always unexpected. A bite, a slap -- or so it felt -- and each time I retreated, wounded, pretending it hadn't happened, no longer bringing it up, just thinking well, Tamar is like this, don't take it personally.

 

But then it happened yet again yesterday. Out of the blue, her voice takes on that tone and I am cornered, wanting only to scramble out of the discomfort, not even thinking to draw attention to it. The bite, the slap are always in the form of criticism. Receiving them, I am flung into the sense that I have made a mistake, said the wrong thing, felt the wrong thing, and all I know to do in the moment is survive, find a way to get us back on track. 

 

Yesterday we did make an attempt a few sentences later to consciously repair what had just happened, but not enough. I could not walk fully into the open, and maybe she could not either. At the end of the conversation, to her credit, she brought it up obliquely, this time apologizing, saying how anxious she had been about whatever in her life we had been talking about. And, yes, I know, it's her anxiety that causes her to lash out. Some kind of ancient response.  

 

I imagine this has happened with everyone who knows her well. In between, she is thoughtful, kind, caring, someone in whom I confide. 

 

Of course I know that if I want this friendship to continue I will have to air this issue more fully, though yesterday I seriously wondered if it was worth it. 

 

What I hate most is how my brain goes into non-functioning when it is so hurt. It just can't duel. I know people who are mentally stimulated by attack and leap bareback onto their horses, shouting all sorts of brilliantly articulated paragraphs that finish their enemy off -- no matter how loved -- completely. I am the opposite. 

 

In my imagination with Tamar I say, "Wait. Stop," the next time it happens. If I can just blurt that much out, pause the proceedings long enough to give my befuddled emotional self time to catch up, we might get somewhere.