Surreal

 
Had to look that one up to see if I was using it correctly.....

From merriam-webster.com: adj. - marked by the intense, irrational reality of a dream.

Yea, pretty close.

My best friend in college was B. Nice guy, fun, friendly, with height that makes him kinda larger than life. It started as a crush, timing wasn't right for anything else, and I was screwed up enough to fixate on the poor guy anyway for 8. frickin'. years. But something miraculous happened in the midst of my lithium-deprived, unrequited lust...we created a solid friendship. In the weird gender politics of college life, our 20s, burgeoning adulthood, whatever, we were each other's life raft in the good and bad times. It's a precious thing.

I've let a LOT of my college memories fade to seriously fuzzy, because I was in so much existential pain at that time. College for me was skipping classes, barely making Cs, intermittent attempts at counseling, sneaking off to the $2.75 movies when I should've been in history class, climbing trees, biking at all hours to escape my thoughts, an occasional bout of self-abuse, a mild interest in conservative politics because that's where my friends were, and enough booze and parties to almost make it feel like a normal college experience.

Post-college we have stayed in touch, and communication has drifted naturally as our lives with spouses progresses. Hadn't seen him since his wedding, a year after Les and I jumped the broom. I called B. when Dad passed, because it was natural; distance, my memory, and time notwithstanding, I still consider him one of my best friends.

I sent him the annual "ha-ha, you're a year older" birthday email last week and it turned out he was going to be in town for work. He suggested we three meet for dinner and I eagerly accepted. And then went into a headspin, because I'm still insane and how weird/awkward/gah! was it gonna be and couldn't I get back on 2 lithium a day and drop 100 pounds first?

But I'd forgotten his warm, self-effacing personality, how he puts people at ease, likely without realizing he's doing it. Within moments of spotting him at the bar, we were hugging and chatting like old friends. I was wound a little tight, and probably chattery as a magpie, but a couple of beers and a good meal eased my stress and we three had a very nice time, talking and laughing, fetching up names from our past, catching up.

The catch of blocking bad memories is the danger of blocking the good ones too. That part of my life is what it is, and I can't throw it away, no matter how much I want to. That would be like wanting to block out Fort Myers, because it was my worst year medicinally in my search for meds that would treat my illness, when Fort Myers also gave me Les, my greatest gift in life. Life ain't supposed to be separated like that; and to try to, is to do a disservice to your personal growth.

Image from here.