You read that correctly. I broke up with my best friend. Not just my best friend, but the girl I considered my sister. The one who has a tattoo on her left foot that matches the one on my right. The strange thing is… I’m ok with it.
The truth is, I think we just spent too much time together. I think I shared too much. And I think we got to the point where we thought we could try to fix each other’s situations. I tried helping alleviate her stress by offering to help with transporting her youngest from preschool, and assisting with the daycare she runs out of her house. She attempted to help me with my son who has emotional challenges. There were many other ways we tried to help each other, it just didn’t work for either of us.
As much as I wanted to help, my depression and anxiety would get the best of me. And it triggered headaches and all the other nasty side effects that come along in the package. My judgement was cloudy. I couldn’t think straight & I couldn’t keep my schedules and days straight, even if I wrote everything down on my planner.
Accurately verbalizing how I was feeling proved to be a struggle, so I ignored it and buried it instead. I kept pushing along. Secret therapy sessions that no one knew I was going to– not even the people living in my household, took over my schedule. I felt burdened and buried, stressed to the point of wanting to curl up into a ball and cry in the corner. And it was my own fault.
Last Monday, nothing went right. I had a million things on my own plate, and yet I took on more, thinking it would help with my best friend’s stress level. She’s getting married in July & has a list five miles long to finish in order for it to go off without a hitch. She’s got a lot of family members she can’t rely on, and the few she can rely on drive her crazy in some capacity. I offered to pick up her youngest from preschool for the week. I was able to on Monday. And I was able to on Tuesday. Wednesday through Friday were a blur, with Friday ending the week on such a bad note, I considered drowning myself in a bottle or two of wine.
Friday was great until I received a two-page letter, in the form of a text message, basically making me feel as though I was failing at life. My best friend, my sister, my person, said she wanted to ‘love [me] from a distance’ and made me feel as though it was completely my fault.
…it was not completely my fault. Yes, I was to blame for a lot, and I took ownership of that, but not everything was my fault. I responded with a quick text message telling her I read the text & that I’d respond later. It was in the best interest of everyone involved for me to take some time to digest what was being said. And I needed time to re-read her text, as well as the text I’d written to her that clearly upset her. It took me nearly a week to respond properly. I’d written a dozen letters to her on my word processor, only to delete them because they were not said with love, and they were not said with any kind of kind words or clarity.
Instead of using ‘you’ statements indicating blame, I needed to use ‘I’ statements and apologize for my wrong doings and for making her feel a certain way. I needed to choose which topics I was going to address, which ones were most important. And I needed to say it as lovingly and neutrally as possible. I had to keep it classy. And I had to keep myself from pointing fingers while also making my position clear.
The Straw That Broke The Camel’s Back
My last statement in my letter to my now-former best friend, which I had typed into a word documented and printed, was most definitely the one that ended it for us. I stated that since she wanted to love me from a distance, I was going to allow her to, but that I would also not be attending her wedding in July. It wasn’t a good idea given the circumstances. I felt as though the tension leading up to the wedding would have made it worse in the long & would be unfair to her to tell her last second if there was no ‘truce’ or dialogue between.
I also returned anything in my house that she’d given to me or let me borrow, including the gifts she’d purchased for my bridesmaid gift box. Her youngest’s car seat that had been carefully strapped into my back seat now carefully held everything. And I returned the RSVP (that I’d designed for her) marked ‘Declines with Regret’. I mustered up the courage to text her to ask her to leave my bridesmaid’s gown (that I’d purchased myself) and my house key on her door. I knew, deep down, that it would be the last exchange between us for a long time, if not forever. I’d come to terms with the fact that I’d be 100% to blame 100% of the time. I realized I would have my name slandered. I knew deep down, though, that it was for the best.
The Day After…
Surprisingly, I felt free, light, and relieved. A huge weight was gone. I put my big girl panties on and did what needed done & didn’t prolong the inevitable. I just did it– I was brave and did what I felt was right for myself and my family.
Yes, there are moments throughout my week I wish I could just text her and say, “Hey, guess what?!” and share little moments of my day, or vent, but I know I can’t. And that’s ok. It’s ok with me that she blocked me on social media, probably on her iPhone, too. She changed her profile on The Knot before she even went to bed the night before, and that’s ok, too. I’m ok with that. I can’t change how she feels, I can only control how I feel. The only thing I can do is pray for her and her family & hope they’re doing well.
From last Wednesday to now, I’ve yet to shed a tear. In fact, I’ve felt happier. I haven’t had an episode of anxiety, nor a bout of depression. I spent more time with my kids & my hero. My writing and my business venture became my focus. Caring for my inner being also took priority over other everything else, because without filling your cup, you can’t fill others’ cups. I chose not to take all of her words to me to heart. I read her words and decided what was truth and what was said in pain and anger… and moved forward. With that, I chose what was best for me, no regrets, no anger, no resentment. I chose to do me, unapologetically.
Yes, I broke up with my best friend, but sometimes, even though it’s hard to do, it’s what’s best.