Yesterday was Best Friends Day.
Few things compare to having that one person who knows you best, but loves you anyway.
But then, it happens.
That BFF with whom you thought all was going swimmingly and then, suddenly, out of nowhere, you’re ghosted.
No phone call.
My BFF’s method of rejection was to simply stop returning emails, unfriend me from Facebook and stop following my blog.
Yeah . . . it sucked.
The funny thing is I was so close to finishing an afghan I was crocheting for her cabin. I picked colors specifically with her in mind and it took months in the making. I decided to try to finish it anyway, probably holding onto the hope we would repair things.
It. Was. Gorgeous.
But you know what? Right after I finished off the last strand of yarn several blocks of that afghan started to unravel.
A bit symbolic, right?
It looked fabulous on the surface from a distance, but with just a tiny, minute tug in random places it started to fall apart.
The stability of that afghan was compromised.
Rejection is a common part of life but what sucks is being blindsided by it, asking yourself what on earth could be so horrible about such a fun-loving, easy-going, OCD, Texan gal like me? Politics? Religion? Shoe size?
I think tolerance grew too heavy for her to carry anymore.
Which strand was it that caused it all to unravel?
I don’t really want to know why my ex-BFF rejected me out of hand. I’ve learned by sad experience that knowing why someone hates your guts more than gorilla BO is not as satisfying as you think it will be.
Another friend wisely stated, “It sounds like she wasn’t the person you thought she was.”
On the surface it all looked great. We were great. But the integrity of our relationship wasn’t stable.
I’ve yearned for that authentic intimacy from a girlfriend. You know, the traditional kind that is reminiscent of skipping down the sidewalk together, holding hands, sharing secrets, talking into the night on the phone, swapping books, sharing dreams.
I miss that.
It seemed easier in elementary school, and even a bit in middle school. High school seems to get dicey because boys start to surface in our purview and then all loyalty goes out the window.
As you grow, it seems harder to find and keep that intimacy, that giddy feeling of picking up the phone and chat with someone who can make the most mundane things seem stimulating.
I’ve realized that as I’ve aged and changed, so have my relationships, my friendships. A simple phone call or text can feed my soul much quicker than hours long conversations.
I now know that I can be happy, joyful, and at peace with the one who knows me the best: me.
We can all arrive in the place that we are happy in our own skin, to know that rather than “trying to bob and weave what life throws at us, [we have] the comfort of knowing that [we] can take life’s best shot and be able to get back up and move forward.”
Even with the rejection of a BFF, or a tribe we thought we belonged to, it’s empowering to know that there’s more for us than against us, that as we move forward we still matter.
I still create beautiful Afghans for people I love in my life, but now I also have made some for me. I’ve taken great care with all of them, learning from the mistakes of that one that unraveled long ago.
Because I know who I am, and the person I want to be, there will always be joy waiting around the corner.
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