I finally did it. In my dreams last night, that is. I finally told all those so-called friends off. Night after night I dream about the friends I no longer have, and day after day I wonder what happened to those relationships. I sorely miss some of those old friends. I just can't imagine how anything could have been big enough (or small enough) to cause us to lose touch with one another. I first noticed the change when I had my youngest child. No one else that I was spending time with had a new baby. Their children were school age, and they were just starting (the friends, that is) to have more time for themselves. They didn't seem to want to be around a little one again. I chose to stay home with my youngest for almost 2 years, so I got out of the loop a bit where work and work relationships are concerned, but I so much enjoyed being home with him that I wasn't bothered by that. As a matter of fact, I would have stayed home until he started school if we could have afforded it. I was on a leave of absence and we were paying an astronomical amount of money to keep health insurance. Then, after I returned to work and my little one was almost preschool age, several of our couple friends divorced. So, we rarely had anyone to do anything with as a couple, and several of my grildfriends who were getting a divorce found new single friends.

Anwyay. My dream. I am in a bar/restaurant talking to Sherry and Kenna. They are making plans for dinner and have already called a place to make a reservation. They didn't ask me if I wanted to go. Patti and several other friends were there as well. I got up and said, "I'll see you guys later. Have fun!", but as I was walking toward the door to leave, tears starting to fall, I started feeling very angry, so I turned around and marched back to their table and said, "Just what in the hell is wrong with me anyway? Why don't you guys want me around? What have I done? I think you're all very cruel and uncaring and I don't know why I let any of this bother me!!!"

I really can't remember what happened after that. I just know I woke up feeling sad. I am thinking of a Jane Kenyon poem...Having it Out With Melancholy...going to see if I can find it...

Yes, here it is:


Having it Out with Melancholy
by Jane Kenyon

If many remedies are prescribed for an illness, you may be certain that the illness has no cure.
A. P. CHEKHOV The Cherry Orchard

1 FROM THE NURSERY

When I was born, you waited
behind a pile of linen in the nursery,
and when we were alone, you lay down
on top of me, pressing
the bile of desolation into every pore.
And from that day on
everything under the sun and moon
made me sad -- even the yellow
wooden beads that slid and spun
along a spindle on my crib.
You taught me to exist without gratitude.
You ruined my manners toward God:
"We're here simply to wait for death;
the pleasures of earth are overrated."
I only appeared to belong to my mother,
to live among blocks and cotton undershirts
with snaps; among red tin lunch boxes
and report cards in ugly brown slipcases.
I was already yours -- the anti-urge,
the mutilator of souls.

2 BOTTLES
Elavil, Ludiomil, Doxepin,
Norpramin, Prozac, Lithium, Xanax,
Wellbutrin, Parnate, Nardil, Zoloft.
The coated ones smell sweet or have
no smell; the powdery ones smell
like the chemistry lab at school
that made me hold my breath.

3 SUGGESTION FROM A FRIEND
You wouldn't be so depressed
if you really believed in God.

4 OFTEN
Often I go to bed as soon after dinner
as seems adult
(I mean I try to wait for dark)
in order to push away
from the massive pain in sleep's
frail wicker coracle.

5 ONCE THERE WAS LIGHT
Once, in my early thirties, I saw
that I was a speck of light in the great
river of light that undulates through time.
I was floating with the whole
human family. We were all colors -- those
who are living now, those who have died,
those who are not yet born. For a few
moments I floated, completely calm,
and I no longer hated having to exist.
Like a crow who smells hot blood
you came flying to pull me out
of the glowing stream.
"I'll hold you up. I never let my dear
ones drown!" After that, I wept for days.

6 IN AND OUT
The dog searches until he finds me
upstairs, lies down with a clatter
of elbows, puts his head on my foot.
Sometimes the sound of his breathing
saves my life -- in and out, in
and out; a pause, a long sigh. . . .

7 PARDON
A piece of burned meat
wears my clothes, speaks
in my voice, dispatches obligations
haltingly, or not at all.
It is tired of trying
to be stouthearted, tired
beyond measure.
We move on to the monoamine
oxidase inhibitors. Day and night
I feel as if I had drunk six cups
of coffee, but the pain stops
abruptly. With the wonder
and bitterness of someone pardoned
for a crime she did not commit
I come back to marriage and friends,
to pink fringed hollyhocks; come back
to my desk, books, and chair.

8 CREDO
Pharmaceutical wonders are at work
but I believe only in this moment
of well-being. Unholy ghost,
you are certain to come again.
Coarse, mean, you'll put your feet
on the coffee table, lean back,
and turn me into someone who can't
take the trouble to speak; someone
who can't sleep, or who does nothing
but sleep; can't read, or call
for an appointment for help.
There is nothing I can do
against your coming.
When I awake, I am still with thee.

9 WOOD THRUSH
High on Nardil and June light
I wake at four,
waiting greedily for the first
note of the wood thrush. Easeful air
presses through the screen
with the wild, complex song
of the bird, and I am overcome
by ordinary contentment.
What hurt me so terribly
all my life until this moment?
How I love the small, swiftly
beating heart of the bird
singing in the great maples;
its bright, unequivocal eye.

From Constance by Jane Kenyon, published by Graywolf Press. © 1993 by Jane Kenyon. Used with permission. All rights reserved.