On my way to the grocery store just now, as I approached the stop sign, I saw an old friend and colleague get into her car. It was so good to see her face. I gently waved.
Things ended on bad terms between us, but the bitterness that remains with her surprised and hurt me. She stared at me with the chilliest, anger-filled expression, grabbed the door to her truck, got in, and slammed the door.
It all happened so quickly, but it seemed like a small eternity.
Jenny (not her real name), was my colleague and friend a couple of years ago. Her Dad owns a small business, and I worked there for a few months before I became ill. An out-of-nowhere PTSD episode kicked in after a required business trip to Atlanta, and when I returned, I could barely function.
Due to my weekly DBT (Dialectical Behavior Therapy) classes, I now have the tools to handle such situations and am in a much better place, but at that time, I really lost it. I couldn't eat. I was having anxiety attacks. It was really something.
My doctor recommended that I attend an intensive program until I was able to pick up the pieces and become stable in mind and body. I also knew that my spirit needed this as well. It was during this intensive outpatient experience that I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), and much of my life began to make sense. I felt that finally, there was a name for what I was going through - and more importantly, treatment.
During my doctor recommended time off, I sometimes posted pics to Facebooks of things I was doing to try to cheer up and stay positive (for example, I dressed up for Halloween and went out to eat with friends.) Because Jenny and I were also Facebook friends, it turned out to not be such a good idea to do this. I believe that she saw these pics as indications that I was laughing it up, having a great time, and goofing off.
What's more is that I was unable to return to my position, leaving her father and her in a stressful situation.
I can completely understand why Jenny would feel upset. I tried to resolve things with her and explain, but she is a bit stubborn and holds grudges. It just didn't work.
It's too bad. In the short time we spent together, in typical BPD fashion, I got very attached. I adored her and looked forward to when she came into work. All I can do now is know that, in my heart, I have sent her love and apologies. I also know that I will handle similar situations differently in the future. That's all we can do: learn and grow.
Much love to you, Jenny.
Thanks for reading. More soon.
|I chose this pic to give you an idea of what Jenny looks like. She looks like a young, edgy Debra Messing.|