This past weekend, I went to the store and bought cookies, chocolate bars, ice cream, and fudge sauce. Monday, and it is all gone. Huge meltdown, no writing. Why? A friend, or a former friend, because I can’t take this anymore, accused me of being an malicious liar. She’d done this once before, also in a public place, after what I felt were benign comments. I apologized on the spot, but that didn’t make a dent in her hate-filled tirade.
Both times I was taken by surprise and chagrined, not just because I put my foot in it, (I said true things but not things she wanted to hear) but also because I felt like I was being publicly shamed. As my beloved Housewives of Beverly Hills say: “Shame on you!” The look on her face said she had no respect for me. I felt like Gregory Samsa after his transformation into a cockroach.
Words have so much power. The world can shift with just a few ill-chosen ones. I was not being bitchy, rude, sly, or hurtful. I had no idea I’d said anything wrong. What she came back at me with was so disturbing I felt like leaving the table and going home. We’ve been friends for a long time, maybe ten or fifteen years and it’s only this year she’s started picking on me. Little things mostly but two big blow ups as well. Both with other people present, both in public places. So people could see her shaming me.
I don’t understand is why I ate all the sugar in Macomb County and was not able to write. Wait. Emotional eating, I get that. But emotional writer’s block? I guess it exists. Who knew? Not me! Never happened before. When I get angry at my husband I write page after page. It spurs me on. So, what gives and how to stop it before I don’t fit into my clothes anymore and cease writing forever?
There is only one way. Step back from the toxic relationship. Way back.