I used to believe in ‘best friends’; to me, they were the people who understood you no matter what. And they’re the ones that you form a sisterhood with, one that stands the test of time, one that is forgiving and unconditional. As someone once implied to me (though she couldn’t take her own advice), it is a partnership.
In order for people to truly understand me, they need to know everything about me and not look at my past as a crutch or a ‘reason’ for my strange, erratic behaviour that they’re still allowed to judge. Rather, they should look at my past as a reason why I’m the way I am today, good and bad.
I’m getting ready to share this story again with someone I’m afraid to share it with. I don’t know how to bring it up. I don’t know how to let out those words. They’re damaging words. Words so damaging, my parents and some of my friends have never heard them before. And maybe never will. They’re words I am increasing in my comfort level in speaking, but I still have some distance before I can reach full and total comfort. And I’m going to share them this time, with someone who truly deserves to hear them. Because I sometimes look at those words like a curse, but really, they’re a gift; they’re an offering to the listener that I am committing to allowing that person to see the whole and real person I am, rather than pretend I’m normal and pretending I’m someone who can walk through life without feeling like I want to shroud myself in some kind of security blanket every single day.
If I am choosing 30 things I am grateful for, or happy about, I am choosing those words. In a strange, backhanded, twisted-up way, I am absolutely grateful for them. They, and the experiences behind them, have allowed me to make or break relationships with people who deserved either ties or severs. They have allowed me strength, and the feeling of overcoming affiliated weaknesses. In a strange way, I am grateful this is my life and that this is what my life looks like. I’m fine with it, most of the time now, and I can see sunshine in the horizon and know that I’m okay.