Fair is Foul and Foul is Fair...

My nine-year-old son and I are currently reading the book Everything for A Dog by Ann M. Martin (of Babysitter's Club fame). We're big fans of animal stories and Martin tells a good one. I'm pissed, though, because one of the characters, after losing his older brother in an accident, loses his dog when a hunter accidentally shoots it. Stop, I want to scream (though that would freak out my son). This is fiction. You can control the level of pain any one character has to face. Losing a brother and watching his parents crumble is enough. Don't make the damn dog die, too. That's just not fair. 
My notion of fairness is something that has kept me pretty comfy for most of my life. Because my childhood sucked (alcoholic mother and father, suicide attempts by mother, mother's long-term stay in psych ward and all the various daily humiliations that life with alcoholic parents entails), I had decided that I'd paid my dues. Every now and again, I'd get uncomfortable at the reality that others had lost their entire families in the Holocaust, for example, or been raped and and murdered. But I tried not to think of the fact that those people's lives sucked more than mine and that, therefore, there might be more suckage to come in my own life. And instead, assured myself that my pain allotment had been used up and I could now look forward to a life of bliss and joy. Factor in my years of therapy, which I was sure all but guaranteed success: a great marriage to a guy who was NOT an alcoholic, three wonderful kids with a mom (me!!) who would NOT become an alcoholic and screw up their own childhoods. I had broken the cycle! Yeah for me.
And then...
Then I found out that my NON-alcoholic husband had another little addiction he was hiding. One that I'd never even considered, indeed didn't know existed. Sex. And he'd been hiding it my entire, otherwise perfect married life.
But that's not fair, I screamed. I've had my pain. I've endured having other people screw up my life. I was doing everything right, I thought. I had earned my happiness.
And while I was crumbling as quickly as my marriage built of cards, my career, at which I'd enjoyed considerable (and relatively easy) success, was also falling apart. As a writer, I need to actually show up to the page. I can't fake it. Either I've written something compelling by the end of the day...or I haven't. It's hard to write when you can't see the page through your tears.
And while I was working hard to remain upright for the better part of the day, the publishing underwent a seismic shift when the economy crashed. Magazines I worked for folded. TV production companies, which were wooing me for work, stopped buying new shows.
I loathe a pity party. I've spent my life desperately viewing the glass as half full (at least I have all my limbs! at least my father isn't George Bush! at least I'm not homeless!), even if I've had to really squint to see it that way. But every now and then, like today when I just got more bad news regarding a book project, I want to curl up in a ball and whisper, Enough.

Friends of the Marriage, Friends of the Affair

Once an affair is blown open, it's almost impossible not to draw a line, divvying up friends who are collateral damage of the affair...and those who can be brought forward into the new reality.
Friends who knew of the affair but did nothing to discourage it can seem threatening, justifiably so, to the partner who feels betrayed not only by his/her spouse, but by a friend who seemed to offer implicit approval. Friends who did, in fact, assist in the deception, by offering alibis are clearly not "friends of the marriage". And I've heard plenty of tales of "friends" who seem to gain some sort of vicarious thrill by actually encouraging the affair.
While my own experience has none of the drama of that, I had to cool things with one my closest friends, whose own marriage was destroyed by her husband's affair, because she didn't seem able to handle my own emotional upset. Conversations in which I brought up various issues (cutting the Other Woman from our life, for example) were cut short with a "well, I couldn't stay with him" and seeking advice only got me more of the same. There was one way to handle an affair in her estimation: Dump the loser and move forward.
Other friendships haven't weathered my new reality either. Some friends seem unable to let go of it themselves, bringing the topic up though it doesn't seem warranted.
Though I've never experienced serious disease or the death of a child (and pray to God I never do!), I suspect it raises similar issues: There are those who can be there for you in ways that propel you forward...and those who, for whatever reason, simply can't.
Nonetheless, it can seem like simply another loss during a time marked by losses. Of your dreams. Your convictions. Your family.
Unfortunately, many people simply can't cope with BIG pain. Or can't cope with you dealing with it in a way that isn't consistent with how they think you should deal with it.
Your challenge is, of course, to take care of yourself. Surround yourself only with those who can offer strength and support, whether you've chosen to confide in them or not. Good friends will leave you feeling buoyed...which will help you cope.
That said, sometimes friends offer us advice that we don't want or aren't ready to hear. Ensure that you're not shooting the messenger, even if you're shooting down the message.