I tear off my shoes, plunk my wig on its head, and flop into a funk. I spend the rest of the day grouching at everyone, noticing everyone’s messes in the house to which I’m now confined. (Well, not confined, but going out seems rather backward now.)

“Pick up your pajamas!”

“Don’t leave your plate on the table.”

“Helloooo…? Why is this place such a mess?”

I know I shouldn’t snap at everyone. My dependency issues are not my family’s fault. But my stress is tenfold and my inner world feels alone and abandoned.

I should be out and about, enjoying myself, not cleaning my house! My frustration gathers steam as I throw in loads of laundry, and empty garbage cans.

It’s that feeling of being let down, again and again. Those dashed hopes dance before my tired, teary eyes. I feel inadequate, compared to her. She does it better, I think, no matter what I do.

I know that I should love myself and see my strengths. That I should recognize her limitations. Be more independent. Learn to function without her. But it’s not that I can’t manage without her. It’s just that she does something for me that no one else can. No matter how I try to create it within myself, I don’t feel taken care of in the same way unless it’s coming from her.

That is, when she actually shows up.

I’m tired of the excuses. “I’m not feeling well. My car broke down. Something else came up — let’s try another day.” They can’t all be real! It happens too often. Maybe she doesn’t like me anymore? Maybe she’s found someone who doesn’t dump so much on her. I should be lighter in my reliance. Perhaps then she would show up for me more often?

I feel like saying, “Pull it together. You said you’d come.”

But I’m afraid. I need her. There was that one time I stood up for myself and said, “This isn’t going to work. If we make up a time together, you have to show up then.” She stormed off in a huff, and I ended up running after her, saying, “It’s fine, it’s fine.” And then I walked on eggshells around her for a while.

Then there was the one time I couldn’t make it. I texted her in the sweetest, most saccharine way, and her reply was instantaneous. “No! I lost out on work because of you. If you can’t do this, I’ll find someone else.” And I really, really can’t lose her. She’s more important than any close friend I’ve ever had.

So I apologize, again and again. Offer to pay for her missed work. Give her a cake when I see her, promise to never do it again.

When she says she’s sick, I meekly text back, “Feel better, and don’t worry about canceling.” She doesn’t have a ride? “I’ll pay for a cab,” or “No worries! See you next time.” And if she still can’t make it, I can only respond with, “Okay.”

It’s unhealthy, I know. Sometimes, I try to imagine life without her. It’s harder, yes, but healthier. There would be no more hope followed by searing disappointment. I would take care of myself a little more. But that would mean so much more work on my part, and I just don’t have the energy for it. Hopefully, hopefully, I can learn to embrace the relationship for what it is. I can be happy when she’s present and accept her limitations when she doesn’t show.

But for now, this is how it is.

Nothing can stop me from crying when she cancels, once again, or from greeting her with the biggest, “Hello!” when my unreliable cleaning lady finally shows up.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 931)