A little someone keeps hassling me to post someone, so hold on to your knickers....
When I first came to Charleston, the hardest transition to triumph was the new core group of friends I soon acquired - mostly due to gender. I had become accustomed to a male majority where drama definitely existed, yet wasn't given the power to stifle one's ability to have fun. Let's be honest, that was mostly due to the fact that is was the fucking Danger Crew - good times weren't an option, rather a requirement. Then came Charleston, with the bitches and the bickering, and I found myself break on more than one occasion, screaming "get me the hell out of HERE!"
Alas, I am now going on my seventh year in the Holy City, my armor dented by betrayal, lost loves and friendships, and my patience as thin as a sewing needle. As my friend Kim so eloquently stated from time to time, "I have a limited bullshit tolerance," and I find myself following such a remark as a day to day mantra, culminating in my latest confrontation ending with a simple yet sizeable 'fuck off.' Avoiding sounding like a recipe from the most recent self help manual, it's not that life is too short to deal with such trivial theatrics, but moreso that it simply isn't worth the effort put forth in attempts to keep certain emotional trainwrecks from running their course.
It's no secret of mine that I attend therapy twice a month and take medication daily to pretty much save me from myself. With such a dramatic group of friends here in Charleston, it's easy to get wrapped up in their troubles and postpone working through my own. Recently, I've begun to feel the burdens of such selflessness and the wall I've built around my own issues has started to decay, causing some to spill out unexpectedly, sending me into a nostalgic whirlpool of bad decisions and sad memories. I've come to terms with some of those choices and assumed responsibility for my actions.
Yet now I've started to worry that I'll never be content. I don't wish for happiness anymore. Happiness is fleeting, present in moments and memories, only existing in life's honeymoon periods, but never tangible. I simply wish for contentment, a feeling a calm- perhaps only achievable by less contact with estrogen.
Now back to mending my wall.