I thought I was over it, and I was.
The girl I once considered my best friend was long in my past. Years of cancelled plans, balloon-less birthdays and tear-filled lunches were behind me. Years of being told that hanging out with me was a waste of time. Years of walking in circles alone, excluded, panicking. Years of being purposefully made the outsider, hoping I would eventually give in and conform to a mindset that denied everything my heart knew to be true. Years of sacrificing my own spirit so that everyone I loved would be at peace. Years of suppressing my identity because I feared what my fate would be if I dared to be myself. Years of waking up with a plan to give all of the love I had inside of me, and crying myself to sleep with an injured heart. Again.
After five years of denial, I had faced the truth and started over completely. Two years later, I had completely moved forward. I thought my work was done.
It wasn’t.
My work is still not done.
While my old friend has not been in my life for some time now, I still struggle with how I developed because of the weight my love for her once carried.
It isn’t just the fact that she never showed up when we planned to meet, or how every day I waited alone because I didn’t want to be the one leaving her; it is how every time I make plans with my current friends, I automatically assume that they are going to bail.
It isn’t just how she would stop talking to me for periods of time, without explanation, when I needed her support the most; it is how whenever I’m not talking to the people you are close to now, I fear that they are gone for good.
It isn’t just the fact that one day she decided that she didn’t need me as a best friend anymore; it is the fact that I no longer trust that I am worthy of being, or having, a best friend, even though I long for deep connections.
It isn’t just how I spent lunch alone on my 17th birthday, crying in my Spanish classroom, while I spent weeks planning her birthday gift; it is how I now relate giving to others with feeling ashamed for being myself.
I no longer maintain unhealthy friendships. In fact, the people who remain in my life are some of the most open, supportive and loving people in the world.
But just because I no longer have to face the pain inflicted upon myself by others, does not mean I am free from the job of facing myself. I have worked so hard to look outside of myself and build an incredible new life, but have avoided looking inside myself for so long, because it hurt.
It hurt to admit that the scars from those years hadn’t completely healed.
It still hurts.
For so long, I chose fear. Fear that the past would repeat itself. Fear that if people left, it would be because of me. Fear that I was unlovable. I would cling onto people so tightly because I was so scared of loss, but I would end up overwhelming the people I love with my overcompensation, which would only make things worse. I was ashamed of feeling like I couldn’t stop the cycle, and the fact that I was perpetuating it became clearer as my support system became healthier.
One day, when I reached one of my lowest of lows, it hit me.
I had always expected my friends to come fix my painful cycle of insecurity that past friendships had caused, and I would always blame other people for how I felt, failing to acknowledge my own demons from my past inside of me… demons only I alone could defeat.
I was so busy waiting for someone else to save me.
I never realized that anyone was actually affected by my emotions. I also never realized how much pressure I was putting on my loved ones by placing my emotions in their hands. I really didn’t think it meant anything to them.
I had always prided myself in being a very good friend, but in this situation, I had never been a good friend. I was repeatedly placing a huge burden, one that I myself did not want to deal with, on others, even though no one could lift it but myself. Without realizing it, I was stressing out the people I loved the most to avoid my own discomfort.
I didn’t want to admit that I needed to take care of myself, because, to be honest, I didn’t feel like I deserved to.
I was making my most cherished friendships unhealthy. I didn’t realize it until recently, but as soon as my eyes were opened to this truth, I knew things had to change.
My love for my friends is worth more than all of the discomfort that I will have to face as I grow into myself.
I am uncomfortable. I am uncomfortable feeling the pain in my heart every time I have to sit with my own thoughts, rather than compulsively texting people to make sure they didn’t change their mind about me since we last spoke. It is difficult focusing on the things I need to get done, rather than obsessively trying to solve problems that don’t even exist. It is strange focusing on what I want for my own life, rather than solely concentrating on the lives of others, and what I can do to make sure they don’t walk away.
But I am doing it anyways.
Despite the hurt and discomfort, I am choosing honesty. I am willing to admit every misstep I make, because I do not care about my pride nearly as much as I care about my personal growth. I know that my growing will never be completely done, so I choose to embrace my imperfections. Regardless of my doubt, I am fighting to have faith. Faith in the people who have given me so many reasons to trust their friendship, who have always been there for me, and who deserve the world and so much more. All I have ever wanted was to be there for the people I love and reduce their stress; little did I realize that I could cause it. You know who you are, and I am so sorry. I am so ready to combat this once and for all.
Most importantly, I am fighting to have faith in myself.
This is a battle, but the past is not going to win.
I am going to win.