This is the first entry in a potential series of blogs titled “Dear Diary,” in which I may post an entry from my journal(s) kept when I was younger (middle school through college), and then respond to them with insight I have gleaned from my life, or just encouragement. My intention in doing this is to normalize adolescence and hopefully encourage other teenagers who may think they are alone dwelling in their thoughts about life. If there is anything in particular that you feel you’d like me to address, or even if you’d like me to respond to one of your own diary entries, please let me know. And of course, if you just need a safe space, please reach out. I will always be accepting and supportive of anyone’s choices (as long as they don’t hurt anyone), no matter how they may align with my own experience.
Dear Diary,
I’m sick… Sick with love. But I know that even if he rejected it, even if we were just to be friends forever–I could handle it… Of course, I’d cry at the wedding… a lot. But there I’d be, sitting with my Kleenex in my best dress, watching (probably- as far as I’m concerned) the best friend I’ve ever known get married. And that would be it. Well, not it. You know, I would find another significant other and then he’d have to sit through my wedding… and would there be as many tears? No… I don’t believe so (after all, it would have been he who dismissed I) but he’d be there to encourage none-the-less.
Who am I kidding? I’d lie to myself and say I love his girlfriend, and probably even–through sheer stupidity–become her best friend (make the guilt rise some more) and I’d probably get so sick feeling (you know–that empty feeling you get along with a stomach ache when you lose the most important thing in your life) that I’d have to escape to the bathroom, and I’d have to leave the wedding early and begin life anew.
But all of that is still a long way off. As of the moment, I still have nothing to worry about. Nothing to fear but fear itself.
This is certainly a later, college-aged entry. I don’t want to start with too much embarrassment, after-all (also considering the fact that I plan to retain as much bad grammar as possible, for the sake of authenticity). Not until you get to know me and are convinced that I’m not psychotic.
I think it’s quite obvious what’s happening here, but just in case it’s not: I was in love with my best friend–we’ll call him B. I mean, he was a great guy–still is. And we’re still friends, just not best friends. But for the longest time, I was fixated on him.
After graduating college, we went through a time period where B cut his 3 best friends out of his life for various reasons, and I was one of them. While that could have been devastating, I was extremely centered on advancing my career and, at the same time, began meeting new people through the internet (this was when online dating was very new).
By the time B pulled us back into his life, I had a chance to distance myself and reflect. I think that one of the worst things is being deeply entangled around this person, and not allowing yourself to pull back and unfocus. It’s that focused determination that always hurt me, as you may see in my other journal entries.
As for what actually happened? Well, I attended his first wedding with my husband, who is a better fit for me than anyone I ever had a crush on growing up (some of these guys, I don’t even know what I was thinking at the time). In the case of B, obviously it wasn’t “meant to be.” The thing I often consider though, is that I loved all of my friends so deeply, and often it was very difficult to separate that love from the type of love that can build a relationship and a healthy marriage.
Unfortunately, his marriage to one of our best friends (and interestingly enough, one of the others who had been cut out of his life), was not the type of love that could build a healthy marriage. The tragedy I had to witness was not that of his marriage, but of two good friends’ divorce.
There always will be things we have to overcome. There will always be uncomfortable situations and things we do not personally want to deal with, or cannot fathom dealing with.
I’ll close this with something that I presume will be an ongoing theme throughout this series: I can’t say things get better. It’s more that things change. The things that you care about change, and the way you look at them and deal with them change. The things that upset you change. You will find other people who you care about, and who care about you in return. You will learn and appreciate the ways that others always did care for you. Maybe they are friends, maybe they are family.
Take a step back. Unfocus. Maybe then you’ll see things a bit more clearly.