Yelling at Friends

I haven’t posted in a long time. It’s been an eventful couple of months, but, fortunately, recent weeks have not filled with the emotional dilemmas that characterize many of my posts. I am enjoying taking things as they come and being present with what is in front of me. There are many stories I could tell. I’m going to begin with the night when things officially shifted for the better.
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I apologize in advance for the vagueness. Much of this story involves the stories of other people, and their stories are not mine to tell.


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The Story

Most Tuesdays, I join up with a group for pub trivia. The team is coordinated by someone I respect a great deal. I like his sarcastic sense of humor and watching the way he takes care of and encourages his people. I find him to be a relaxing presence.

Most of the time.

The Tuesday after my December hospital stay, this was not the case. There was an awkward tension I did not understand. Knowing my emotions were already convoluted, I decided not to address anything that night. It was the right choice. At the same time, it did nothing to help my mood and definitely contributed to my heavy state of mind while writing my previous post.

A few days lately, the tension was resolved when he initiated a conversation to clear the air. I was relieved and understanding his experience was an important step in getting out of my miserable mind set. Combined with some other high-quality mood boosters (dinner with a friend, an unexpected phone call from my uncle, Christmas shopping with my brother), by the time the next trivia rolled around, I was a whole new person.

The night was much more jovial all around. Since I only had one more work day until Winter Break, I even joined the group when they went to karaoke after. It was a lot of fun until, suddenly, most people left. Only my friend and I remained.

I was torn because I’d been intending to leave soon myself. I hesitated because I could see his depression kicking in. I had seen him in depressed moods before, but this was my first time witnessing it take over. The change was drastic. I was at a loss. After all, he’d resisted me reaching out on prior occasions. Our friendship felt tenuous.

He, of course, said I could go. He’d be fine by himself. He was used to it.

At this, I became angry. I yelled at him. While I didn’t raise my voice and managed to keep my tone calm, I yelled at him all the same. I told him I’d rather stay here, get home late and sleep well, than go home now and lose sleep fretting about him. When he protested, I called him out on his recent posts telling people to “check on your friends, check on your friends, check on your friends.”

“I’m checking on my friend. You don’t have to talk to me, but I’m staying.” I sat myself on the same side of the picnic table, but scooted to the far end of the bench to give him space.

Being reminded of his own words quieted his arguments and we sat there awkwardly. A man came by and broke the remaining tension when he showed us a magic trick involving rubber bands. We talked for a while after that. Nothing serious or heavy; lightness was the medicine needed.
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Staying was right choice. Many things – small and large – came out of that night and will get told at different times and in different ways. For me, the most important was the confidence boost. Telling someone I’m staying because I know they’re not okay and I don’t want to lose sleep over it was maybe one of the most freeing things I’ve ever said.

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