Thursday, September 1, 2016

Lesson learned the hard way; on friend break-ups

I really think that friend break-ups can be just as traumatic as couple break-ups can be.

One time I had a friend break-up, and it literally broke my heart. Shattered. Tiny little pieces. Like, stupid crying every single day out of nowhere. I do understand what 'literally' means, I honestly felt like my heart was broken. It hurt. You know that thickness in your chest, where it feels like you can't fully breathe? All of the time. It was so much worse than any "real boyfriend" breakup that I ever had. It was brutal and I was devastated.

When you pretty much spend time almost every day with someone for years, getting to know them, connecting deeply and profoundly caring about them, it's pretty much one of the hardest things you could imagine experiencing when it's callously ripped away from you. Especially if you're anything like me, and struggle to let people get close to you in the first place. Especially if you know they are pushing you away and replacing you with someone newer and shinier, someone that they suddenly think they like better. After everything, they are replacing you. 

Without trying to sound dramatic, when I was in the thick of it, I really didn't think I would ever be okay again. It didn't help that my friend kept kind of meanly reeling me back in at whim, then throwing me away. Over and over, and over again. Confusing me with mixed messages. Jerking me around like a rag doll. Using me when it was convenient, or when they were bored. It's the definition of cruel.

And idiot that I was, I let it happen because I couldn't let it go, I just couldn't do it. Somehow my identity was so wrapped up and entwined in this other world, I don't know if I knew who I was without the friendship. And more than anything, I didn't want it to end. I really didn't. I think I was willing to put up with everything, anything, because at least they were in my life in some capacity.

Even though it doesn't sting quite so badly anymore, and thinking about everything doesn't make it so hard to breathe anymore, I still feel like it affects me and the way I manage friendships and my life. I suppose it probably always will. I don't think I will ever recover fully from that. Like, why would I get so close to someone again? I learned that it's not worth it. It'll never be worth it.

After a long, long while, I was surprised when I felt a real smile happen again. I was surprised when I felt the sun warm the back of my legs and it felt good, not wrong. It shocked me when one day I realized that I swallowed something and didn't feel a lump in my throat, one day I listened to music and didn't feel the familiar tears filling my eyes. One day I just forgot to think about everything, forgot to think about that horrible feeling of betrayal and jealousy and my friend who threw me away. I guess it just took time.

I hope one day I can find the guts to truly not care anymore. I vacillate between feeling hateful, and feeling something a little less than hateful, and deep, deep in the back of everything, feeling a tiny sliver of hope. Maybe it'll never get much better than that. And I suppose that's ok, because I think I'm ok now. I think. 

People can be fragile, and they can break. If you want to be a good person, don't use people who love you. Don't make them think that their sole purpose is to be there for you to stomp on whenever you're in the mood for stomping. Because if you think you can make it through this life unscathed, you're probably mistaken. I imagine when the person who smugly decided I didn't matter enough gets a taste of what they have given (and they will... karma and all) they might finally get it.

Or maybe they won't. Sometimes people like that will never get it, and they'll go through their life cowardly and aloof and thoughtless and always searching for something better, newer and shinier. 

I have a funny feeling people like that won't ever find what they are looking for. And you know what? Maybe they don't even deserve it.

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