A year ago, my BFF (early 30s) moved in to start a new life in Maryland. Well, actually– she was kicked out of her friend’s grandmother’s house in Texas, had exhausted her resources there, and had nowhere to go nor resources besides her car, so we wired her some money and begged the supposed friend to drive with her from the Houston area to our house and then flew him home the next day. This should was the first indicator of the chaos to come, and yet I foolishly overlooked it.
We had planned for her to move in previously, yes– but the manner in which it came about speaks volumes. First, her eviction. Then began the frantic phone calls before the drive about being unable to see while driving at night (“partial night blindness”) and she was terrified to drive that far alone, hence why I ended up begging her “friend” to travel with her. Then she had no idea how to get to my house let alone how to read a map. It was getting more and more ridiculous and she hadn’t even left Texas yet! It was as though she didn’t know how to adult. Why was I adulting for her several states away? I’ve never had to adult for her before.
When she arrived, I hardly recognized her. Her thyroid was swollen to the size of a bow tie and it had done a number on her physically, as Graves Disease will do, if left untreated. Her eyes protruded like golf balls, she was as gaunt as a meth addict, and shaking just as badly. Being hypothyroid myself and having done a lot of research on it, I knew right away. My confident diagnosis ended up saving her life. Unbeknownst to me, she had been avidly avoiding doctors because she had developed some sort of crazy conspiracy belief about them all out to get her. She would only seek help regarding “the bow tie” after someone she immensely trusted told her *exactly what was wrong with her* beforehand so she wouldn’t be swindled. Had I not said, “Guuuurl, we gotta get that thyroid under control!”, read the symptoms out loud, and then show her my itty bitty Synthroid pill to prove it was non-horselike, she wouldn’t even have gone to the free clinic down the street (she looked up “thyroid cancer” and freaked out… Did I say cancer? No. Hyperthyroidism amps up anxiety, knucklehead!).
In a previous post, I wrote about that experience with her. No need to repeat it here. Suffice to say, it was an ordeal.
Three months later, we caught her attempting to swindle a couple thousand dollars out of a really nice guy and then while I was on the phone with him, she lied and called him a pedophile. Whoops. No more money for her. Then she left for Florida, or so I’ve heard from her family. We haven’t spoken since. Not for lack of trying on my part, mind you. No wait, I did get an email a month or two ago telling me what a bad Christian I am. That was a lovely sentiment to receive.
Between Labor Day weekend in September and the weekend before Christmas of 2014 were the most chaotic and tumultuous time of my life. During that time:
- I nursed this BFF back from death’s door only for her to flee when it was time to quit smoking, per our agreement. We bought her the Blu vapor kit thingy, Nicorette Gum, the whole nine yards. Nope. This was the only requirement of living with us rent-free, and we kept extending it since she “couldn’t find a job.” Finally, as of Christmas week, “Friend, we still know you’re smoking, our deal had been extended long enough. Rent is now $25 a week.” If she can afford to smoke, she can afford $25 a week.
- I watched my BFF throw temper tantrums over mundane things… Really, you’re throwing a fit because you want your first Renn Faire to be perfect so you’re not going? Okay, so don’t go. Green bean casserole? You’re really upset over green bean casserole? Hun, hubs is allergic to mushrooms and I’m lactose intolerant. If you wanna make one, go right ahead, just understand that it’s only for you.
- I witnessed her falling apart because she honestly thought I was still 18 and hyper because that’s the way she sees herself. No, sorry BFF, since my brain cooties have been properly diagnosed and treated, this means I’m happy and level. This also means I don’t pray for death nightly anymore, nor struggle for my identity, so you know, win-win for me!
- Hubs and I both attempted to make efforts with her resume. It was in Gothic font 8 and lacked her phone number, address, and email (note: not exaggerating). If an employer did want to get in touch with her, it required the use of telekinesis. When I got through with reformatting and wordsmithing, it was a thing of beauty. Getting her to apply to places was weird– she was oddly biased against JC Penny’s (it was “beneath” her) but fine with other stores. That was the other thing, getting her to dress her age. Hiphuggers and belly shirts are not en vogue anymore nor age appropriate, especially over 30, sorry kid. Goodwill had great stuff to include a really nice periwinkle button down fitted shirt from Talbots with the tags still on it. Totally lucked out. It was weird– once she saw me dressed in work attire, it really took her aback like, “Whoa. Fara, you’re a big girl now! I guess I’m a big girl too.” She honestly never grew up.
- In the three months she was with us, I can think of five guys she met up with, the last of which she was incredibly angry because we got along with him so well. Because if there’s one thing that bad, it’s when your friends like your other friends, clearly.
But in the midst of all the temper tantrums and breakdowns, God was there and He was working.
- BFF had to show up suddenly like she did for me to recognize her ailment because later that day I ended up meeting a doctor at a luncheon who knew all about the free clinics in the area. If she hadn’t had shown up that morning, I would have missed that “Divine Appointment” with that luncheon doctor. Had I not been hypothyroid, same thing. BFF needed a big sister type to look out for her during this time to make sure she was taking her meds and drinking her water and I was blessed at the time with a job that allowed me to work from home.