Minion Monday – Someone I Used to Know

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Minion Monday – Someone I Used to Know

I was your friend. Then one day I wasn’t. It wasn’t something you did or said but who you were that changed our relationship. You see one day I realized that I wasn’t really good enough to be your friend. It had nothing to do with money, or popularity, you were not sexier or had all the guys fawning over you, what you did have was so much more. You had parents who doted on you, mine were working*, you had a little brother who adored you, mine, ignored me. You had someone to tell you that you could do anything, I had someone always telling me to try harder. You had natural talent, I worked my ass off to come close to you. So slowly I realized that I wasn’t good enough to be your friend. The time I spent with you were awesome. However, I could see the pity when I didn’t do things quite as well as you. I could see your parents talking behind my back, asking why you hung out with ME? Depression was that little voice, and I didn’t know it. You tried so hard to hold on, yet I kept pushing you away. I pushed everyone away. Even years later I heard you still missed me, but I was still fighting depression, I still felt that I wasn’t good enough to be your friend. When I pushed you away I lost all of my friends, because the friends in our group were your friends not mine. Losing you meant I lost them too. I was too stupid to see that you loved me for me, that you didn’t really care if I was as talented, as smart, or as outgoing as you were. You just wanted to be my friend, but because I couldn’t believe in me, I didn’t see how you could want to be my friend.

 

So instead, I decided to focus on not having friends. Instead, I found a boy, a boy who promised me his love, he promised me life, then he took it all back. I had lost my friends because I wasn’t as good as you, then I lost him too. That day I realized that I would never be good enough, for you, for him, for anyone. It was just too much, depression again convinced me I was worthless, so  I gave up, I took a lot of pills and waited to die. After a couple of hours I felt sleepy, so very tired. Then I got scared, I didn’t want my parents to find me dead, it would just prove how much of a screw up I was. So I asked for help. After hours in the ER and a week barely being able to talk due to the pain from the tubes they used to push the medication that neutralized the pills I had taken.

 

I lived.

 

That wasn’t enough for depression, Not long after that  I ran off with a guy, a guy who liked to use people, to hurt them, control them, and treat them like trash. This abuse was actually a little welcome. After all, it made me feel like the little voice in my head was right. His voice echoed that voice, proved all of my self-loathing true. That little voice that said I wasn’t good enough now was happy, depression lied and said I was getting what I deserved. He tried many times to kill me, but it took him trying to kill our infant son before I ran. It was one thing to hurt me but my baby? No, not even, not ever.

 

So we ran, hid, and eventually that little baby, my son showed me I was worth more, his unconditional love was enough to show me I did have a place in the world, that I deserved to live, and eventually maybe even be happy. It took many more years to be able to even write this, to say after all these years I still miss my friend. I still think of you and most of all I regret running away. I have learned so much over these years, I know now to not compare myself to you, or to anyone, instead I embrace everyone’s talents, just as you encouraged me to do so many years ago. I now know that just because I don’t do something as well as you doesn’t mean I don’t do wonderful things on my own.

 

I have 4 more sons to teach me about love, and they have a wonderful father who loves me just as much as they do. Now I realize I don’t have to compete with everyone around me and I try and teach my kids that too. I know being the best you that you can be is what matters. I wish I could tell you that what you did, how you treated me and the world around me, helped me all these years later. It helped me to accept my son and his autism, my other son’s bipolar disorder, and even the celiac that has ruled my life for many years. That you taught me love, and kindness when no one else could. It took a few new friends, and my husband helped me take those lessons to heart. One day, maybe, I will find you again dear friend and tell you thank you for all you taught me, even if it took me all these years to learn.

 

Until then, thank you. You made a difference even if you never know it. 

 

*My parents were supportive and loving and there when they could be, however, depression wouldn’t let me see that.

Now for a little levity.

At least Oswald brings me coffee.

At least Oswald brings me coffee.

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