Or maybe none of you. Meth is crazy intriguing from the outside. I think Breaking Bad's success has proven that. Right? You're going to have to discuss amongst yourself, I just said I wasn't going to talk about it. I do have a good meth story, but it has to wait.
Seriously, that's not what this is about though, I promise.
I think. I never really know what's happening here.
Ten or so months ago I hurt one of my good friend's feelings. When I say good friend, I mean extremely close like sisters, see one another daily sort of close. If we were ten we would have had bff necklaces, or matching jeans, or Justin Bieber tattoos. Whatever the really close kids are doing these days.
Unfortunately, I opened my big mouth, let my emotions run away with me and said something that hurt her feelings. It was an ungrateful comment for something really awesome she had done for me. It wasn't the cruelest words ever spoken or anything, there was no yelling or cursing, but I shouldn't have said it. I should have gotten more sleep and sucked it up.
I should have.
I apologized. I apologized a lot.
I felt awful. I still feel awful thinking that I hurt her feelings. I think I'm actually a nice person most of the time, being unkind in any way only sets well with me when dealing with my kids.
She forgave me, but hasn't really acted that way since.
While not my first time letting my emotions speak rather than my head, or something more clever than that, this is the only time that me saying something has basically ruined a friendship. We went from spending a lot of time together, helping one another, venting and rejoicing in all the highs and lows of life together, to her barely looking me in the eye most of the time.
You know what I'm pretty sure happened?
She's just not that in to me anymore.
For her own reasons, which I may never know, she just doesn't want to be close friends again. She doesn't want to be in one another's lives. She doesn't feel like our friendship was worth the forgiveness.
She totally broke up with me.
Geez that really sucks.
I have spent a lot of time, a lot of time, over the last ten months trying to figure out what I should do. I've texted, I've tried to act normal, I've tried to give space. Texts are unanswered though and she's mostly only friendly when my dog died or when I think she feels I've trapped her.
Side note: There has not been any real trapping. I'm not skilled enough to catch my 9 pound dog without a lot of effort, there is no way I could trap a grown woman. I mean, maybe, but I would really have to put together a strategy for that and let's be honest, I'm just not going to have that kind of focus.
Honestly, it was pretty fantastic being such great friends, but obviously that isn't the way it is anymore. So why do I still obsess over it?
I cried after the bus stop this morning because I feel shunned.
I am a 35 year old woman, crying at the bus stop because I can't make someone like me.
This is the true picture of lame. Pathetic.
Side note: Actually, I think I was most pathetic when I would try on my friend Natalie's cheerleader uniform at slumber parties in the ninth grade. I wanted to pretend to be a cheerleader, a goal I never reached because of an inexplicable nosebleed incident during the sixth grade tryouts. I think the blood paired with my complete and total lack of gymnastics skills and/or coordination of any kind really made me a tough pick. Discrimination at it's worst.
So I started my day feeling sullen and not good enough.
And bloated. I was seriously bloated today for absolutely no explainable reason and it was really annoying. I blame allergies...mostly because I blame everything else on them so it feels comfortable.
But within ten minutes of getting to work, I felt a little better. The entire rest of my day was filled with reminders from all these amazing women I am so fortunate to call my friends. Renee, Jessica, Jennifer, Sabra, Amity, Sara, Alissa, Jenn...why am I wallowing in this situation gone wrong?
I'm probably wallowing because I'm good at that. It's nice to be good at something.
I'm also probably wallowing because I feel like in my whole life I've never genuinely been rejected by a friend and my super size ego is hurt like I'm in the eighth grade.
Side note: Eighth grade did in fact mark a year of great change for me. I went from braces and really giant bangs, to straight teeth and a more calm look at the top of my head. BIG year for me. No friend would have ever dumped me at the end of eighth grade, I was in my prime.
I wish things were different, but surprisingly, that does not make it so. I lost my friend. That really stinks, but I can't change her mind and I can not keep focusing on the fact that this one person isn't interested. It's not my job to make every one like me.
Side note: I do think I could be really good at that job if one such occupation existed, and didn't involve anything illegal or extremely immoral. Just throwing that out there in case someone knows of something. Call me.
I feel like the end of this needs some really emotional statement of personal growth, but seriously, I don't have it.
Maybe I should have devoted another post to meth? Maybe I should be revisiting my journals from eighth and ninth grade? Rereading this make me think that there was a lot going on then.
In summary, I'm apparently unlikable. Big revelation.
Can't win them all.
It is what it is.
Win some, lose some.
Do unto others as you would have done to you.
Live and let live.
Live and let die.
Crap, that last one's just from Guns and Roses or something, right? Pretend it makes sense.
What's important is that I think we've all grown here.
I think I feel better. Do you?