friend (frĕnd) n -s 1. A person who one knows, likes, and trusts.
My father's
definition of friendship: "Everyone is your best friend until they fuck
you over." So eloquent. Thanks, dad.
Losing people
I thought were my friends was probably the most difficult aspect of being chemically
sensitive. We always think true
friendship can survive all kinds of trials
and tribulations, through thick and
thin, good and bad, ups and downs, in sickness and in health. Maybe I was confusing friendship with
marriage? Actually I've seen some ugly
marriages and I always thought friendship was on a higher level.
After about a
year of being chemically sensitive, all my friends
disappeared. Some moved away, but most
refused to give up their perfumes. Their addiction was far more important than
many years of friendship. In
some cases, I was a royal pain. Exposing chemically sensitive people to
perfumes makes them feel lousy. When people feel lousy, they tend to have less
patience and get bitchy. It was a vicious circle. Irritability being a symptom
of chemical sensitivity only made matters worse. But aren't real friendships
supposed to survive hell or high water?
Why were my friends different? Don't
they watch the same sitcoms and movies I do? The ones where friends stick by
you no matter what? It forced me to
question the meaning of friendship.
In all cases,
I became too difficult, too high
maintenance. I always thought being
high maintenance was a joke describing a woman who expects people to cater to
her every need while she wears too much make-up, big hair, and god-awful
clothes . Oh, and very high heels that made it impossible for her to walk fast.
For someone
with MCS, high maintenance means you
aren't convenient, easy-going, and spontaneous. Instead, you might even be
tired, worried, stressed-out, sick, apprehensive, cautious, impatient, irritable, and reclusive. If you
can't work, you might be poor, too. Or need help. Unfortunately, that
makes you un-fun on too many levels or...high
maintenance.
 |
| The Un-Fun Friend |
Even the
simplest encounters must be planned in detail. For instance, very recently I
was asked to go to a movie. I stood there staring like a deer caught in
headlights speed-listing in my head all the problems with this normally mundane
suggestion:
Where is the
theater?
Does it involve
driving long distance?
In a smelly
car?
Does the car
have air fresheners in it?
Does the car stink
in general?
Will my
friend mind if I drive?
Does my
friend use stinky soap?
Does my
friend use smelly laundry detergent?
Does the
theater pop smelly, fake popcorn?
Microwave
stinky, fake nacho cheese?
Is the
theater crowded?
Does my
friend want to go at night or on the weekend when it will be crowded?
What will
happen if I have to leave because it's too smelly?
Suppose I
decide to go and suffer exposure?
Suppose the
exposure makes me surprisingly bitchy?
Can I afford
to be sick for the next week?
Would it be
worth the sacrifice of health?
Will my
friend get mad if we have to forfeit the cost of the movie ticket?
Will I need
to find something else to do if my friend opts to stay?
Will my
friend be angry if he/she ends up at the movie alone?
If I ask
these questions will I seem too worried? Too paranoid? Too high maintenance?
Do I really
want to ask all these questions?
Isn't it just
easier if I say no and let my friend find someone less high maintenance?
This
definitely isn't low maintenance! Usually it's easier to say, Hmmm, sorry, I've got plans/I gotta work/I
don't like Tom Cruise rather than suffer the risk of someone thinking I'm
too weird for company.
Friendships
are no longer easy and the stress of even trying is often overwhelming. This
has made me very leery of people. I second guess their intentions and their
capability of being a friend. It takes a lot of stamina to be a friend to
someone with MCS. Knowing this, I keep people at a distance because it is
sometimes easier not to have friends than to be disappointed.
Most people
don't understand chemically sensitivity which makes it worse. It feels like I
am fighting with them all the time trying to get them to understand and that in
itself is very exhausting and stressful. They forget and show up at my house
with perfume on or ask me to smell them to see if their new shampoo will kill me.
It's a catch-22. If I don't constantly remind them to be fragrance-free,
they'll forget, but if I do remind them, they're going to get tired of me being
so damn high maintenance.
In addition,
I get really excited when I meet a new, potential friend but the impending
disappointment looms over me like a big, black cloud. When will they decide I'm too difficult? I
walk on egg shells for fear I'll be too much trouble and I expect like everyone
else, they will decide I am. I watch
what I say because in my life of isolation I wonder if I've lost my social
skills or if I might appear too desperate for companionship. The whole process
is a pain in the ass and makes me want to stay home with my rabbit. He rarely
gives me grief and likes me just the way I am. He is the perfect friend.
Before I
wrote this post I looked up the word
friend in the dictionary, because truthfully, I wasn't sure what it meant
and I was hoping a definition would give me guidance. This is entry number
seven from Webster's Third New
International Dictionary:
friend \'frend\ n -s 7 : a
troublesome acquaintance : one causing or likely to cause annoyance.
I was wrong.
I've got loads of friends!
