Unfriended

Hiya.

You may not remember me.

I'm the girl who used to blog every day, or every second day, at least. I'm the chick who found it difficult to wander through the hazy days of housewifery without a little bloggy interlude to get her through. I'm the mum who always tried to find time to jot down the comings and goings of her brood, to prevent forgetting those delicious days of childhood.

I'm still that girl. Only now, I'm also a part-time teacher. And since Term 3 began this week, I have either been at school or desperately, scarily, wading-through-thigh-deep-water tired. So I owe you a post about our bushwalking trip last Friday. I owe you a post about puppy school on Saturday. I owe you a post about Maisie's adventures at Southland. And I owe you a post about diving back into the world of a working mumma (and by that, obviously I mean a PAID working mumma - pshaw).

But tonight? Tonight I am hurt. Confused. Extremely tired. And just a little bit angry. Peeved, you might say.

I'm the first to admit I have been a long-distance friend to a lot of my girlfriends over the last few years. There has been a combination of factors contributing to this - babies, moving houses, working long hours, post-natal depression. Without exception, my friends have been there to support me, regardless of how long since we last spoke.

I told you recently how I was reunited with Jen after four years. It took a funeral to get us back together, but the grief was all for Stan. There was not an ounce of sadness between us, no recriminations or blame - just joy at finding each other again. That's what I call a good friend.

On Sunday, I went to the funkiest baby shower I've ever attended to celebrate the impending arrival of Kirsty's little princess. Most of my high school girlies were there, which is a recipe for a good time. It was only when Fleur, one of my lovely friends, commented that it was nice to see me happy, that I realised that I probably haven't been the best company for some time. And I felt compelled to apologise, to explain.

So I told her about my struggles with PND after Phoebe's birth, and how I avoided seeing the lot of them when I could. How guilty I felt about that. How I knew that I had been a poor friend. And my words were met with understanding, smiles, and love. Not once did I feel judged, or found lacking in the necessary skills for friendship.

And I suppose over the last few years, Christian and I have dealt with our fair share of challenges. I don't need to tell you again. But a direct result of this, is that most of my friendships have been conducted via Facebook or text at some point or another, simply because I was clutching on for grim life. It didn't mean my friends meant any less to me. And thank goodness, my beautiful friends understood this, and never deserted me.

By this point, you probably think I'm a great big sook. Boo hoo, terrible things have happened and I forgot to ring my friends. (And most likely, you'd be right. I am a sook. And an ugly crier. Let's not forget that.)

But I do try to keep on keeping on, even when things are tricky. When we're not being traumatised in the middle of the night by men wielding weapons, or helping my husband recover from a stress-induced heart attack, or waiting to see if my mum's breast cancer has gone away, I'm a pretty happy person. And it's when I'm not expending every ounce of energy in my little family trying to keep things on an even keel, that I see my friends. Speak to them. Catch up with them. Have a coffee, even.

For the past two and a bit months, I've been dealing with a horrible, awful, stomach-churningly sad situation. Although it's been in the background of my life for about two years, recently it has come to a head. It's not my story to tell. Most of my friends IRL don't know about it. Certainly, I am not about to discuss it here. Nevertheless, it has affected me every day, and occupied my thoughts every night, for quite a while now. And there's absolutely nothing I can do about it.

So to get through the day without crying all over people, or having to explain the situation, or going out in public with a face that would curdle milk, I have done what I always do - poured my energy into my kids, and spent any left-over energy at the supermarket. The only difference is, this time I let a handful of my friends in on the secret. Rather than hiding away completely, I confided in some of my nearest and dearest - not those who were dealing with huge stresses in their own lives, but those who love me enough to cope with the ugly crier.

Once again, I have neglected to phone or catch up with a number of friends for a few months. But we're talking two or three months - not years. So it was absolutely gutting tonight to pop onto Facebook to see that one of my "good" friends had 'unfriended' me. Sorry? Are we in primary school?

I have absolutely no idea why this has occurred. I last spoke to this person in late April. Whatever heinous crime I have committed, I can assure you it is a mystery to me. But there it is - I have been dropped. Which I suppose, is simply long overdue judgement that I am a crap friend.

Whatever.

I wouldn't blame the lot of you if you dropped me for being a whinger. But before you do, know this. When I am running around busily, I often think of you. When I am hiding my sadness away, I am doing it because I don't want to inflict it on you. When I am only 'talking' to you on Facebook, it is because I crave your company but don't have enough hours in the day. When I am baking a cake, I'm wishing I could eat it with you. And when you have something go wrong, no matter how busy I am, I am there for you. And I would never, ever unfriend you for not phoning me. That would be hypocritical.