Fairweather Friends, I like you not

Dave and I have just had a very emotionally charged morning, so to speak. And not in a good way.
A lot of tears and talking as my feelings about living here explode into the room. That is a large problem I always have and have always had; I am quite a see-through person and my feelings are never on the down-low for very long. Having said that, I am a very patient person - I can take a lot of knocks before I am put right out. For me, the knocks have been coming for around two years now (since we moved here). Each time I have tried to reinvent myself,turn the situation around to see if it fits better the other way, only for it to become a tighter squeeze. I think I have a knack for reading people - in the same way that you can tell EXACTLY how I am feeling, I can usually discern other people's feeling too.

Being knocked takes a variety of forms. From various friends and their various reasons for not meeting up after I have made the effort of finding a babysitter and crossing the great plains in order to meet up for a drink before the last bus home, to those who come up with a myriad of excuses as to why they cannot come over for the meal I took hours to prepare. The old woman who made me cry in the street when I was heavily pregnant after my dog pooped on the grass of her sheltered housing complex (I picked it up, of course I did - I had it picked up before she came out of her house to purposely berate me). The way in which everybody stood and stared or laughed as we struggled home with our shopping and our sleeping baby. The multiple hours wasted waiting on buses that disappear from the electronic timetable and the countless apologies for being late as a result. The fact that every visitor complains about climbing the stairs and rarely comes back. The way my scar twinges as I hit the third set. The longing to have another baby, but the fear of going through the whole charade up and down these stairs with a toddler in tow is castrating. The day after day and hour after hour of feeling trapped, alone and lonely; the feeling that if I died or if something went terribly wrong, nobody would know, perhaps for days.
Nor does it feel like they would care enough to do anything about it.

My friends ("friends") have gradually in the last year sloped off into the shadows, one by one. I now have fleeting friends - ones who are there for the good times and not much else.
Unsurprisingly, this is getting me down - after all, this year has been the toughest of my life. I had a baby and got married! There are no words to explain the crazy feelings that have been whirling around my brain (being secluded from my social world has definitely not helped), but where have all my so-called friends been during it all?
I can count on one hand the good, genuine friends who have really made an effort with me. And I don't think I am an unreasonable or bad friend. I have ALWAYS been there for all of my friends through their various traumas. From coaxing them through relationship mishaps, work issues, family dilemmas, I always seem to be the first person that any of them turn to. Perhaps as I am in this position in my life with a family and house etc, I seem more settled and stuff, which means that I look like I have a lot of experience, which I suppose I do.
But come on people!
Where's my loving?

I can feel my attitudes towards life and friendships changing as a result. It's terrible. How?

Well, for example, I used to make a huge effort with other folk on their birthdays. To me, that was important. I was the one who baked a cake, made a fuss over people who generally claimed they didn't want any, but were chuffed to bits when someone actually cared enough to make the effort for them. I prided myself on not just buying a nice gift, but took great, great care to get it so right. I didn't go over the top - I just thought that they should feel special.

One month after I had my baby it was my birthday. I was going through a really rough time - I couldn't get out of this god-forsaken house due to the stairs and my c-section (it's a 6 week recovery period). I was really, really down and had bad baby blues.
I recieved two texts - one from a dear friend who lives in another city far away, and one from an old old friend. I also recieved a video email from a friend who was far away in Slovakia at the time (she travels a lot).
That was the sum total. Four cards, all from family. I couldn't have felt less uncared for.
It might not seem like such a big deal, but to me it was. And especially in the circle of mates that I had - birthdays were big important things. There is a huge tradition in our circle where birthdays are scared. For all the females out there who know about the secret girl code (you will hear me alluding to this in the future) - you know, the secret code that isn't a code that is really a way of telling other girls how you really feel while at the same time pretending to be nice/genuine etc?
Well I read the code and the code said "Fuck You".
Not a nice feeling.

Anyway, I guess what I am trying to say is that the lesson that I have learned here is that friends are sometimes fairweather and will desert you when you need the most. And perhaps it's best to let them slink off into the shadows.
Part of the reason that Dave and I argued this morning and have these horrible discussions is definitely due to these "friends". After all, friendship is a two way street. I could have done with a shoulder to lean on this last year, and it never came. And as much as I can blame Monifieth for it, perhaps it was the kick up the arse my life needed.
After all now I am stronger, thicker skinned and more wary of fleeting friendships that simply take advantage with no return.

And I have discovered, in the old fashioned way, who my real and true friends really are.
It's very surprising.

I now have a new circle of friends - I'm not sure if they are real or not, but they seem like very nice lads and ladies.
And this time I know where I'm at.
And I'm prepared.