People fascinate me.  That’s probably why I started college as a psychology major.  I like to know why people do what they do.  But I wasn’t great at the school of psychology, and – or maybe because – I spent a lot of my time in class writing poems and musing over song lyrics about relationships, usually of the unrequited romantic variety.  I remember being really into similes and metaphors.  I looked to other situations to understand my own.

I’m still fascinated by people.  I’m puzzled, intrigued, amused, angered, enamored, appalled – I’ve probably experienced all of the emotions throughout all of life’s experiences.

I’m now 6 months into my move from Charlotte to Asheville, and as expected by my own timetable based on other moves and job changes, I am pretty comfortable.  I’ve gotten better at my job and even have at least one client I’m pretty sure feels good talking to me.  I have a friend at work who invites me to lunch pretty regularly, I see some of the old friends I hoped to see when I returned to Asheville, and I’ve met some new folks, some that might even be budding friendships.

And I am grateful.

But I will likely forever be troubled and confused by some relationships I left behind that seem to have fizzled the moment I changed zip codes.  I realize that there is no sense in trying to understand why some people don’t keep in touch, why some people don’t care, why some people maybe just actually don’t like me that much, as it turns out.  (But, see opening paragraph.  I always wonder about people.)  Maybe some of the relationships WERE just employment, not friendship.  And, there is a reason everyone knows the phrase “fair weather friend.”

But man, it stings sometimes.  To have put 11+ years into a single workplace and find out I’m gone like a fart in the wind, to quote Shawshank Redemption – well, if I’m honest with myself, I probably knew it would happen, and that might be one reason I hung on so long.

Some people don’t actually need or want you if you aren’t doing something that benefits them.  Some people are so aloof they can’t be bothered to respond to messages.  A lot of people are really good at staying in touch only if you make it so easy for them that you show up at their workplace five days a week.

I realize as I read this over that I sound like a disgruntled employee, which isn’t how I feel or what I mean to portray.  I cared so much about my last job that I lived apart from my husband for seven years to stay there.  I worked with people who felt like family.  I cared deeply for and about management, staff, and clients.  But then I left – and the world that was that job kept on spinning without me.  It’s like breaking up with someone and saying you want to stay friends.  The one who doesn’t want to break up is never going to appreciate the offer of a platonic relationship from the person he or she was enjoying being naked with.  In other words, while I thought we were family…I was actually an employee.  And I should have understood that and left sooner.

Eventually, I will abandon my desperate attempts to stay relevant to those who have made it incredibly clear that I am not.  I’ll hear from them again when I win the lottery, and I will read this blog and force myself not to respond.

Every single day, the holes of those who used to be is filled with the attention of whose who still are.  Those who have communicated, who have visited, who have made me feel that regardless of miles or employment or a number of other changing factors, we will keep finding each other and sending those random, “Hey, this made me think of you,” messages if nothing else – because we do think of each other.  And when you’re thought of, it shows.  When you aren’t, it shows.

People will show you how much they care – myself included.  While this blog is written from the perspective of a wounded, jilted person, I have also been the wounding, jilting person.  It happens.  Sometimes, people’s lives just don’t mesh.   Thank God I learned to like myself.  That’s a huge bonus.

Thanks to all of you who have cared for me.  I love you bunches.