A Letter to a Former Friend

"Loving yourself takes practice. It takes intention."

It's been a while since I've had something to write about on my blog. The day after Valentine's day I started a post about the value of friendship, and the wonderful group dynamic I had found in my new friends. 

A lot has changed since then.

Before spring break, I thought the worst form of betrayal was losing the man you love. Turns out it wasn't. I have never felt more hurt than when I found out a woman I considered one of my best friends was now dating that smooth talking cowboy that I hadn't quite gotten over. Maybe it hurt more because I never expected my friend to hurt me that way. As a loyal person, a friend, and even just as another woman, I will never understand that. How could someone who just a few weeks earlier, comforted me as I worried myself sick about why I wasn't enough for him to commit to, turn around and drive that feeling home? Who just a few weeks earlier was into another guy. Who just a few weeks earlier was someone I trusted with the most vulnerable information that I keep close to my heart. We had commiserated about our exes, and how even though we had come so far, we were still damaged. How even though we had gained confidence, we were still learning to love ourselves. 

And now out of nowhere I was crushed. I had worked so hard to love myself, surrounded myself with these people who were supposed to have my best interest at heart, the same way I had theirs. I watched in a 3rd person haze as our group dynamic completely changed the day I found out. I couldn't be brave. I couldn't be strong "for the group". I felt those oh so familiar waves of anxiety coming on, pushing me towards break down. I had to get out of there.

So I did. And for a few weeks I didn't see any of them. People I had become accustomed to seeing three times a week, I barely spoke to.

Even with the support of my best friends, even people I wasn't close to who assured me that it was, "so messed up."  Friends of friends who had shared the story, sending me messages, encouraging me that I was going places in life, and had so much to look forward to. Even then I couldn't ignore the hurt.

Still I dived deeper and deeper into self doubt and inescurity. Reliving every thing I had told her about him. About me. Reliving every moment I spent with him. Every conversation we had. Every late night. Every kiss. Why wasn't I enough? What lesson comes from this pain? I couldnt even bring myself to pray about it because thinking about it that much moved me to tears. I was in this odd balance of not thinking about it, but also being consumed by it. 

"Loving yourself takes practice. It takes intention."

So, for the sake of consistency, I have chosen a couple months after the initial stab wound, to reopen it just a little, to write this letter to my former friend.

Dear Former Friend,

It should come as no surprise to you that I am writing this, and if it does, well then I guess we weren't as close as I thought. But then again I think that has been established. It hurts me to think about this more so than I wish to admit. Still, months later, the sting of your betrayal buzzes a constant, persistent pain deep in my core. 

I blocked you on Facebook, because one thing I have learned about social media is that by simply clicking a button you can remove a lot of self inflicted pain. And we both know I don't need any more of that. 

In fact, let's take a trip down memory lane, to the days when you would come into the office, and sit with me for hours, getting to know me. Advising me. Comforting me. Remember how open I was? How honest? How I told you of the perils of my ex, heart on my sleeve, almost in tears. How we laughed about that smooth talking cowboy who came to the office to "chat" just a little too often. How excited I was to tell you that I loved being around him...but no no I'm not falling for him. How you looked at me with cautious eyes when I told you about our late night conversations, and his ability to make me forget about the world around me. But don't worry, I promise I'm not falling for him...just having fun. 

You told me about your ex. We commiserated, talking at length about how men can cause us so much heartache. You helped me grow in my faith, constantly assuring me that God was taking care of me and that I just needed to pray about it.

I told you about cutting myself when my ex left me for the first time, and how somewhere in my mind I knew that would never leave me. That I saw it as a failure. But, look at us! We had made so much progress. And we are beautiful, smart young women, who don't need a man's attention. Except that I started to. And you watched it happen. The casual mention turned into a regular occurrence. I didn't just say his name in passing, but I started to talk about him all the time, this smooth talking cowboy. And I was going crazy trying to figure him out and play the game but no, never fall for him. And you hated him. You spoke of how much you disliked the way he treated me. And how he just "rubbed you the wrong way." I tried fervently to explain to you the side other people didn't see. The laughter behind his eyes. The tender in his touch. How I wish I could go back in time. 

We laughed about my late nights. We danced, we drank, we became best friends. And when things started falling apart you spoke words of kindness and assurance. That I was wonderful, and he was an idiot for not seeing it. That I shouldn't concern myself with someone who isn't willing to commit to me. You dried my tears, and calmed my anxiety as my feelings of insufficiency crept back in. 

And then I sensed a shift. In the way you spoke to me. And the way he spoke to you. At first I thought it was all in my head, but then I was almost certain that my worst nightmare was coming true. And it did. When you told me, eyes on the ground, that the two of you were dating, it was quite possibly the single most painful sentence I have ever had to hear. Because we both knew, me with my numbed silence, and you with your shameful stare, that I had fallen for him. Despite my best efforts, we both knew that I was in love with him. 

It's true, for weeks I had been trying to move back to being just friends with him...God what a cliche. But I think most people would agree that does not excuse your actions. I try every day to forgive you, but I can't. Not yet. Maybe not ever. I'm sure you are glad that I am gone and left east Texas so you can pursue a life with a man who exemplifies the majority of the qualities you have been telling me for the last 8 months that you don't like in a man. But I guess getting attention changed your mind. Settling works for some people. 

I have tried every day to forget. But I can't. I sit here in my new apartment shaking because this situation makes me so upset. Not even just because I lost a man that I never really had, but because I
lost my friends. Your actions changed the entire group dynamic because guess what? They all knew how much you hurt me. I tried to act like nothing had changed but how could I when everything had so obviously changed? Just a few weeks earlier you were crushing on a different man in our group of 

friends. Just a couple weeks earlier I had broken the new "just friends" rule I had laid down for myself. And you knew about it.

How could I act the same when every time I was around the two of you, you threw yourself on him like a high schooler with her first boyfriend? Never leaving his side, touching him constantly, shooting me dirty looks when I walked up. I'm glad you weren't worried about throwing it in my face. I watched in horror all the while keeping a smile on my face. I knew I made you so uncomfortable, and quite frankly, I should. 

I know nothing I say will make you believe what you did was wrong, because as the strong Christian woman I took you to be, I know you would never do anything you thought to be morally wrong. Besides, "Your girlfriends come first." Right? 

This will probably be the last thing I ever say to you, if you ever read it, so I want to leave you with this. Despite my bitterness towards you, I hope that the two of you stay together. Forever. And get married happily in love. Because the only thing that made me keep my head above water was telling myself that everything happens for a reason, and maybe my role in your lives was to bring the two of you together. Because you were soulmates. 

That being said, you better hope he keeps you warm at night, because you are a cold bitch. 

Sincerely,

A woman betrayed.

I'm not the type of person to feel sorry for myself, but even I can't deny that I have had some horrible luck in the area of relationships this year. I also recognize that it isn't fair to hold this much anger towards my former friend, when it takes two to tango, and that cowboy pursued her. However, I think that as women that is just something we can't control. She will always take the blame in my eyes. But aside from relationships? My last year at SFA was awesome.

I was so focused on everything wrong with me, it was so hard to see what was right. I came out of heart break and grew more as a person than ever before. I reached my goal GPA and graduated with honors from a university that I love whole heartedly. I got into my dream grad school program at AUBURN FREAKING UNIVERSITY, with tuition waived and a paid assistantship. I made tons of new friends. I put myself out there despite my fear of failure. I got to finally experience being a teacher and am completely in love with it. I have gotten stronger physically, and am taking so much better care of myself! I got a dog, finally tried dying my hair red, learned the guitar, and danced more than I ever have before.

So why is it so hard to look in the mirror and see the whole picture?

Why do I only see the girl whose friend didn't think twice about hurting her. The girl who lost herself
 once again chasing a boy. The girl who has panic attacks, and cellulite, and a fear of never finding someone to love. 

"Loving yourself takes practice. It takes intention."

That is a quote from a woman in a video I watched not too far back, and it has brought me quite a bit of  comfort. It reminds me that every day is a new day to learn to love yourself a little more. Because it does take practice and intention, and it definitely doesn't allow you to wallow in the pool of your own doubt and insecurity.

This too shall pass. 9 months ago I was completely broken at the hands of a man. 9 months from now I will no longer wake up every morning thinking about how much I miss the friendship of a man I should have never fallen for. And how he didn't choose me.

I will wake up reminding myself that we all face harsh battles, and we bare scars as witness to our wounds. For me they are literal and figurative. But it is those same scars, those same wounds, that make us uniquely, genuinly, tragically, and magnificently ourselves.

And there is no one else I would rather be.