On a Tuesday night in December, I came home to discover the roommate gone. All their furniture, all their books, all their clothes, just gone. I thought I would break down, get upset, but actually…
I let out a breath I’d been holding for months.
The knots in my stomach subsided, and I realized for the first time in forever I could just exist in this space. It was good, somehow it was…fine. I took notice that my apology letter was left behind, my last ditch attempt at making things a little less bad between us before we headed off in different directions.
Not accepted, obviously.
I took stock and took photos. The trash was fine, considering that I got threw away like trash. It almost felt symbolic, but I didn’t appreciate it much as I swept through the garbage. I picked up things here and there, things I’m certain they didn’t mean to leave behind. It felt like an exorcism, washing away the pain, putting everything into a semblance of order.
It also helped to keep me warm in an apartment with no heating, so bonus I suppose. I went through the throwing away a bunch of tea things left behind, dumping it all into the trash. I got a big cardboard box from the trash collection downstairs so I could put all their things into it. I still don’t know where it’s going, but I’ll figure that out later.
Most people in my position would say, “Just throw it away. They treated you like garbage, so treat them shit like garbage.” But it doesn’t feel right. I can’t be that hateful and vindictive. It’s not who I am. I’m not doing the right thing for them, but for me.
I searched through where this stuff was, if my stuff had been damaged in the move out tornado that plowed through so quickly. Nope, just stuff shoved here and there, but nothing damaged. I put stuff into boxes before heading off to work.
During my break, I calculated that I couldn’t pay the 70,000 yen price for their side of the rent over two months. I would need to move out, and with nothing to my name, I would need to sell everything in the apartment. My bed, my camera, the table, the fridge, the washing machine, the whole new life I just established in April…all of it would have to go.
I mourned the loss of friendship, of the life I tried so hard to carve out in this new space, but when I came back “home”…I felt something settle in my chest. I’d been feeling like a weight had been sitting on it for so long I forgot what it felt like without it.
It felt…kind of good?
The price of this freedom is steep, and I wish it hadn’t ended with a fight leaving me basically bankrupt, but I felt better than I had in ages. I was freezing, I was nearly homeless, but I also didn’t feel like I needed to walk on eggshells anymore. I didn’t have to worry about what would happen when I opened my front door anymore, I knew what to expect, which was nothing. Nothing at all but the last few bits of furniture and silence.
I can figure out the moving process, it actually makes things strangely easier with them moved out. I can sell the things and move on quicker. I can call everyone, review the contracts, get things canceled, and just have it all done really quick.
Someone once told me, “Sometimes it’s good when they leave you,” and I always thought that was just disingenuous advice from people to make others feel good about being abandoned. Instead, I get it now.
Sometimes, you don’t even realize how stressed you are when you live with someone everyday, someone who sees you as not a friend but something to just use up until you’re not useful to them anymore…and then they leave.
Suddenly, there’s a bright side, because you’re not trying to gauge their mood, figure out what the “right” thing to say is or the “wrong” thing to say is.
When it comes to the falling out, they hurt me, I hurt them back, and then nothing past that could be forgiven on their end. We hurt each other badly in such a short amount of time. I’m the villain in their story, I’m sure. I’m a monster and evil, because I made a mistake. I am not at all faultless in this tale, I did damage, I tried to repair it, but there wasn’t any point in the end. I think the moment we did this move in it was nearly doomed or destined to end in disaster.
See, they could have bad days, you see, but I couldn’t. They needed their feelings validated, and if you didn’t validate them exactly as they wanted, you were the awful person. They are allowed to have mental health issues, but mine are “just things you need to get over.”
But the grievances of the past are useless. I should have brought up my issues earlier, I should’ve stuck to my boundaries, I should’ve worked more to save just in case this happened. I keep blaming myself for not seeing it coming months ago, like I could ever be that kind of psychic. I know it’s not logical, but there it is.
Everything I’m recounting is also biased, of course, so I’m sure from their point of view I deserve everything that’s happening to me. I’m sure somehow for them I deserved to lose everything all at once and face my worst fears of this whole moving-in with a friend experiment. I’m sure that I’m a horrible bitch, and maybe I am a little bit.
There are no victims here, though. I’m admit fault, I admit I fucked up. I admit that during a really bad day I said things I shouldn’t have. The main thing I regret is I said in an email (long story on why email, just roll with it), “I moved all my things into my room. If you damage or take my stuff, I’ll call the police.” That was so vindictive and full of malice, and I shouldn’t have said it. It’s not excusable, but I was in a bad head space, because I thought I might get fired and I thought they had already thrown me away without even talking to me.
They only talked to me for the last week and a half through Facebook and emails, because I guess talking face to face wouldn’t be okay anymore. When I lost Softbank service one day, I decided to write them paper letter. I tried to apologize and explain my side of things and bought them a present for their Christmas vacation, but I did end the letter by saying I didn’t want to be friends anymore after we moved into new places.
I felt like they wouldn’t see past their own needs, their pain and their hurts always trumped everyone else’s. Their struggles were the hardest struggles, and no one else could compare. I couldn’t accept that kind of friendship anymore, not when they hurt me and never saw a problem with it.
Maybe they decided if I didn’t want to be friends then I didn’t deserve to be treated like a person anymore? Who knows, I never will. I won’t be reaching out anytime soon. At first I tried to ask mutual friends how they were, but that’s a useless endeavor. I realized today it’s really not my job anymore to see if they’re alright. They left, it’s done, time to pack it all away. They wouldn’t do the same for me, why am I doing it? It’s energy better spent trying to claw my way out of the hole they left me in.
That being said, knowing this day and age of cyberbullying, I’ve scrubbed all traces I possibly can of them from every vlog and blog post I could find. I don’t want anyone to get revenge on my behalf. I don’t want revenge, I don’t want them to get a karmic comeuppance, like I said I fucked up too. It’s not as simple as one person bad and one person good, it’s messy as hell. Yes, they’ve left me in a bad place, but putting them in a bad situation isn’t something I want. I hope they’re happier without me, I hope they go on and find a better place (or at least a place with heating).
Bit by bit as I’m cleaning and tossing away things here and there, I know I’m gonna be OK. It will because I’ve got friends and family who love me, who are supporting me from near and far. I’m already noticing I’m mentally more stable than I’ve been in months, so that’s great. I think having my own space is helping me to cope. I’m going to get my stuff and move, and I’ll move on. It was a learning experience, my heart is broken, but I’m not lost. I’ve got pathways to go.
Christmas and New Years have been rough, but hopefully 2019 will be better.
And I’m really choosing to focus on this year. I’ve got goals and ambitions to put all of this tragedy behind me. I’ve learned hard lessons, but that won’t stop me from going forward. I want this month to be a small footnote in my history, something that won’t define me as a person in the years to come.
I want to do many things, so many things, but I can’t do everything. So I’ll focus on what I can do. I want to write more, so much more. I want to get a book out and published before my birthday in the summer. In that vein, I’m going to start vlogging more about my creative endeavors along with all the Japan things.
There are other more personal things I want to do. I want to send out more cards to family and friends. It’s time to stop the excuses and be good to the people who love me, who have always been there and I feel like I’ve been taking for granted. I can’t make the commitment of one a day (that’s a goal doomed to fail) but at least put out a couple a month around birthdays and such.
I won’t have much money in the next few months, but I want to save money so I can do things like see family and friends next Christmas. It’s been awhile since I’ve been back, so I want to go back and get caught up with the people that I miss so much.
I don’t have a plan for most of these targets, but I know these are the things that matter the most for me. I want to pay back everyone who helped me, somehow, someway. I want to give back to them the support I’ve needed. I feel so grateful and blessed to have these people in my life, and I need them to know that.
I’m not going to look back in despair, I’m just going to move and move onward. Things are rough at the beginning of this year, so things can only go up from this point. Guess that’s kind of the benefit of ending a year on a low note? I can only ascend.
To the friends and family who read these blogs, I love you all very much. Many blessings to you in 2019! I hope it’s a better year for us all.