Roommates From ...

Over the years, I've lived with many people.  Like 40, not counting family.  Maybe even 50.  Hold on, let me count.

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52.  FIFTY TWO.  53 if you count the girl who lived with my parents and us kids for several months.

That's really a lot of people.  A lot of habits, a lot of idiosyncrasies, a lot of personalities, a lot of stuff lost/missing/stolen, a lot of...everything.

One roommate in Waco (my first non-temporary roommate), we'll call her Leslie, was... something else.  She's actually the one who said, when I was trying to be open and build a relationship with my roommate, that moving across the country wasn't a big deal and her friends moved overseas and that was much harder.  So I didn't bother talking to anyone about it, even when they said, "Must be hard leaving your friends and living far away from family!"  (Which is another story, but we'll stick with this one.)

But there was more to my deciding not to talk to people.

This poor gal had some major struggles with insecurity.  We actually had some of the same struggles, but I'd seen a lot of freedom in that area whereas she hadn't, and the issue continued to grow.  For some reason... I became afraid of being like her.

She was pretty needy and draining, honestly.  I wanted to be kind and listen -- you know, good roommate, caring about the person I lived with and listening to what was going on with her.  So I did.  Once for 6 hours. Straight.  She would. not. stop. talking.  I felt sucked dry, chewed up, and spit out.  I can't even fully explain this... Every time I opened my mouth, she cut me off, even mid sentence, until I finally gave up and let her go, out of curiosity to see how long she could carry a conversation by herself.  Too long.  I literally had tears running down my face toward the end.  Any time we talked, she didn't care about ANYTHING that I was thinking and feeling.  If I voiced what I was going through, she would either dismiss it or talk about how she was totally good in whatever I was trying to process.  Good for you.

For example...
I say: "It's hard moving, making new friends, figuring out who to talk to and share with about what's going on, since my friends from Michigan aren't here."
Leslie: "Well, I have a lot of people I can talk to.  I know that if I ever need anything, I can call up Kevin and Stacy [one of the pastors and his wife].  I have their home number and cell number, and I can call any time.  They might not answer, but I can leave a message and know they'll call me back..." etc etc and on and on for 10 minutes about everyone she can call and talk to.  On multiple occasions.
Good. For. You. 

It was really just her trying to cover up her insecurity and convince herself that she was valuable.  I know that.  Doesn't change the chewing-up and spitting out part of it, though...

Actually, the ultimate example of this was when we parted ways and were both moving out of the apartment.  She was planning to move a certain weekend, so I planned to move the weekend prior so we weren't moving at the same time.  I started asking people for help.  Then she changed her move date to the EXACT AFTERNOON I was moving and asked pretty much all the same people for help, including borrowing the same truck.  When she asked one guy, he told her, "I can't.  Dina already asked me, and I'm helping her."  Her response? In all seriousness. "But you've known me longer, so you should help me."  He helped her to avoid backlash.  She got first use of the truck as well.  I ended up with, oh, almost no help.  In fact, at first, Ruben was the only one who helped me... and he had a liver condition!!!  That really pissed me off.  B****.  Oops. Did I think that?

She only got worse after that.  The gal she lived with after me,T, found her twice after she tired to commit suicide.  I don't even know what else went on, except that T got emotionally walloped herself.  It put a strain on T's relationship with her boyfriend, because Leslie kept asking them for money, calling to interrupt dates because of an emotional crisis, even joining them on dates because she just couldn't be alone.  My friend asked why no one in the church would help Leslie, so the pastor counted it up -- 22 people had spent significant time trying to help and counsel her.  Most of them ended up being chewed up and spit out as well, needing a bit of counseling themselves, at the very least dropping out of any "leadership" role soon after.  (Why on earth people in the church gave me the name of THIS girl to me, the NEW girl, to be my roommate is beyond me, other than she needed a roommate and no one else would live with her.  It's also another story...) 

What does this have to do with me not talking to people?  If I talked to people about what was going on with me, I didn't want anyone to ever feel the way I did when she talked to me.  I didn't want people to feel sucked dry.  I didn't want to chew them up and spit them out.  I didn't want to be needy.  I didn't want to be draining.  So, damn it, I wasn't taking any chances.  I wouldn't really talk to people, that way I'd know I wasn't being like her.  I would make sure I would NEVER go to people.  I don't need people -- I'm supposed to get everything I need from God, not suck people dry, right?

I made a vow.  Not the good kind.  The kind that bites you back, in more ways than one.  I missed one critical difference: I wasn't her and I wanted to listen to and care about people.  It's okay to express myself, my heart, and for someone to listen to me as well.  Some vows are meant to be broken.

Looking back, so are some apartment leases...