I've decided to write some stories as a coping exercise to help let go, I'm going to start a series of posts based on personal experiences that have ruminated with me.
***There will be triggering events like SH. Please read with your own discretion.
I was adjusting to a new school. I didn't really have any friends there until I met her. Anne. She was a lot different than my other friends. Anne liked the drama. The gossip. The crunch from conflict in relationships and friendships. Every situation with her was like it was picked out from a typical high school novel.
With all of that came a lot of baggage. And as a sheltered, naïve, church-going person, I thought that being there for her and being her friend was what she needed. I failed to recognize that it ultimately hurt us both.
I met her in a club meeting. We were both passionate for it, and instead of working together to succeed, there was a one-sided competition. Anne was family friends with the club leader, so every idea I shared with Anne went them with recognition of it going to the wrong person. It made me sad and disappointed to see my ideas get fulfilled by another person, but at the time, it was hard for me to confront Anne about it. I considered Anne a friend, and I didn't think she meant to hurt my feelings, but impact matters more than intention.
I wanted to give her a chance. I wanted to see the best in her. So I continued to share. I continued to hang out with her when my parents said not to. I continued to trust her, to be vulnerable with her. But with this glimpse of her and that starting the foundation of our friendship, I now recognize how I kept missing the red flags.
In the club, there were a lot of time restraints and pressure, which lead to stress that lead to crying, a lot of crying. I was ranting to Anne once about the projects that we needed to complete, and I was in a lot of pain. What did it though was her response. I don't think I was even looking for much. Just some validation or bonding over similar troubles. I don't even remember what I was upset about, but the moment and her words, I remember them so clearly.
We were sitting in the computer lab, taking a break on our project. The bright lights and mumbling of people talking and the warmth of my jacket surrounded me. And as I avoided eye contact with my teary eyes, I heard, "You're so cute when you cry."
It took me a long time to figure out why I was so hurt by those words. It should be a compliment. It's a good thing. I should feel glad that I'm not a mess when I cry I guess. She's being nice to me, and I'm being too sensitive. It was annoying of me to be upset over something small anyways. All of these thoughts and more went through my head for years.
But my feelings weren't taken seriously in that moment. It made me question whether I was overreacting.
The drive home was distressful to say the least. I didn't know how to talk to anyone about this. It felt crazy of me to be so upset over this, and I thought my friends and family would think the same. I felt so alone in this experience, and I realize now that there were so many times where Anne made me feel that way: alone.
Years passed, drama ensued, the "friendship" continued, the "competition" was fiercer than ever now that we were upperclassmen. We were both experienced in our fields, but in the end, she wasn't the club leader. I was. And I can understand the frustration from the amount of effort she put into it to not get what she expected, but those feelings shouldn't have been directed towards me. She still had a leadership position, but she wasn't club leader, and that's all she took from it. In her rage, there were many times where she threaten me if I got in her way, whatever her "way" was. And at first, these threats were verbal, and they seldom happened because she stopped showing to club meeting. But as she grew further apart with me and probably allowed the jealously to ruminate, she did something unimaginable. For the years I've known her, she took pride in her mental instability. And that, too, was used.
We were in the cafeteria. The big windows that were stories tall let in bright spring light. The light felt like it was mocking me for what was about to happen. I had just gotten out of my calc class and was confused on her being there since we were in different lunch periods. I didn't question it though. My other friend had gone to the bathroom, and I was alone. The club project was nearing its deadline, and Anne came up to me quickly with a disconcerting grin, rolled up her arm, and let out a short hysterical giggle. As I looked down, I saw a glimpses of dark red on her already pink forearm.
I didn't know what to do. I didn't know what to say. What do you even do when someone shows them like it's a trophy? I felt my stomach drop. I felt the tears welling up. I felt... I felt... I felt...
I ran. I didn't know how to process it. I still don't know how to process it. I can't remember anything but how I felt. The adrenaline. The confusion. The hurt. I ran over to my friend who finally got out of the bathroom. And if she didn't ask me what was wrong, I would have internalized it. The thoughts, though, haunt me.
What should I have done? Was it my fault? Should I step down? Was that what she wanted? What did she want me to do? Is she still doing it?
I think about it often. The what-if's. But it was out of my control. It still hurts to say this, but it wasn't my responsibility. I couldn't have done anything different that would've changed the course of her decision. I want to understand what was going on in her head, but too much time had passed, and it feels selfish to bring it up. I don't think I'll ever get the closure I'm looking for, but letting it go and reframing it here will at least allow me to acknowledge what happened.
If you or someone you know is in danger, please reach out or dial the national suicide hotline (800-273-8255).
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