I found myself shedding tears for a girl I never really knew. A little more than an acquaintance, but not quite a friend. At some point in time we shared a lunch table, a few social events, and the occasional hang out around the neighborhood. We were a group of misfits at best, some of us shy and socially awkward, others loud and behaviorally challenged. Some of us realized it, some didn’t. It was a time when the bullying I experienced was beginning to escalate, and though I tried my best to hide the effects, every genuine kindness shown toward me was amplified thusly.
Through social media we remained distantly connected over the years. Occasional post reactions and comments were exchanged. No real conversations were had after the customary “OMG! How have you been?” upon finding each other. She would disappear from time to time. Sometimes I wouldn’t notice until I received a new friend request from her. She seemed to make a new account whenever she returned, and always took the time to add me back, so I kept her posts visible despite the constant sharing.
Over the last few months, I noticed a shift in her posting. It was clear she was going through something. The silly memes and quizzes changed to melancholic quotes and attempts at empowerment. There were a few times where I stopped with the intention of reaching out, just to check in or offer an encouraging word. But I would get distracted or tell myself I would come back to it later, or just scroll by because it had nothing to do with me.
A few days before Valentine’s Day, I made one of my more personal posts (The Lame Chick: Self Love), it focused on the insecurity I feel surrounding my appearance. I was apprehensive to share it, and instantly regretted it. I’ve been pushing myself to be more transparent in my writing, but fear I’ve let myself become too vulnerable at times. Shortly after I posted I received a notification of two comments by my old schoolmate. I expected some sort of emoji, maybe a kind word or two, as per our usual interactions. What was waiting was a paragraph of encouragement and empowerment…a reassurance of who I am, and the path I am on. Her follow-up comment was more in line with what I was expecting, a shout out to my gorgeous eyebrows. But her initial reaction poured from her heart and reminded me of why I valued her kindness all those years ago.
Two days later, she was gone.
So I have found myself shedding tears for a girl I never really knew, but also shedding tears for the girl I knew best of all…the old me. My last memory I will ever have of this acquaintance is one of kindness, and support. She did for me what I chose not to do for her, because it didn’t serve me in any way. Because I was too busy being wrapped up in my own bullshit to stop the scrolling long enough to reach out. Because I didn’t want to invest time and energy into a conversation that had the potential to lead to further conversations.
Because that was the life of the Old Me.
The me who tried to save the world, one lost soul at a time. The me who made space for anyone in need, even the people who didn’t deserve it. She gave, and they took. She gave, and they healed. She gave, and they thrived. She gave but saved nothing for herself. Just as damaged. Just as lost. But not worth the time. Not worth the effort. And one day she broke. Left to pick up the pieces alone, I rebuilt myself differently.
There have been times when I have missed the Old Me, but this is the first I’ve found myself disgusted with who I have become. I am so far removed from the girl of yore; I feel no connection to her. If I’m being honest, I feel little connection to anything these days. I know this manifested as a line of defense to keep me sane, to keep me above ground, but to what end? I’ve always believed in our bonds, our relationships, our connections being the whole point of the human experience. What kind of life am I looking at if I lose that completely?
My remaining connections are so few, I’ve been holding on to them for dear life. I don’t want to let them go…because I’m afraid of what happens if I do. When those last tethers break, I may never find my way back. I’d like to believe this served a purpose, was made to be some kind of wake-up call. A signal that I need to decide on who I want to be on this next leg of my journey. Is there a balance to be found? Can a healthy level of caring be maintained without sacrificing oneself or the well-being of another? That remains to be seen. For now I am sorting through the relationships in my life, trying to focus on how they came to be, what significance they hold, if any, and what that truly means to me.
We tend to take our treasure for granted.
My hope for you, Dear Reader, is that you take the occasional moment to reflect on your life. Show genuine appreciation for all that you have, all you have overcome, and for all of the hearts that cared enough along the way to get you there.
None of us survive on our own.
