I wasn’t in the party.

I wasn’t invited to the bridal shower.

I was invited to walk my son down the aisle,

Who could bear the rings-

Fake ones of course,

It fits.

I wasn’t invited to be there when the bride got ready

I wasn’t invited to be there at the reception

I was invited to come early before the event

I was invited to be a guest

I was invited to leave my spouse at home if he didn’t want to go

I was invited to forget I was a mom for a day

My nature calls me to serve others. Usually, I will do this by spending hours poring over someone’s life story, their astrological birth charts neither of us will understand, every trauma they’ve ever experienced, and the men- dear god the men- that torture hearts across the entire Midwest. Slowly but surely over the two and a half decades that have comprised my life…I began to realize I deserved to have someone there to stand by me, too.

It absolutely started with the grippy sock vacation that sent the friends I use to care for running. It started with being alone and ill in a home where my “best friend” couldn’t be bothered to find someone to help me. The environment that produced the possibilities of this mess began in a military house on the west coast many years earlier, where I was taught to parent my mom and brothers beginning at seven years old.

When I met my best friend in high-school we thought we had found someone with a similar life. Both oldest sisters to multiple siblings, both sad, both from military homes, both experimenting with rebellion. One of us chose drugs and bad men. One of us chose drugs, bad hookups, and a conglomerate of healing philosophies and vague spirituality with a therapy sprinkle on top. One of us chose peace day-to-day. One of us is still working on an ark sailing towards peace for a lifetime.

There’s a lot neither person in that connection can ever take back, and pros and cons to both routes we took.

I’ve spent a lot of time on the off end of on-and-off friendships reflecting. I wish I could say I didn’t have many rotating friendships, but until I pruned them out for good while I was 24 and pregnant; I swam in them. I robbed myself of lasting and strong friendships due to my own stubbornness, and hope in the good in others. Why?

We can only love others to the degree that we love ourselves. We accept the love we think we deserve. All of it.

Time and time again my best friend and I got on a rollercoaster together. We bought tickets, sitting farther apart each and every time. The love was there. The hearts were invested. The pain continued. We kept getting on the ride.

At some point on each ride I’d feel like things were better than ever. I’d tell my spouse about how this time was the time that would be successful. I’d tell him about how amazing our communication had become. I’d tell him how I wanted to see the whole picture of people, how I wanted to love the good and the bad. He’d tell me that the whole picture of this friend was bitch. He had a right to his opinion, I guess.

Because missing her wedding was the bitter end of round 7,692 I finally made the decision to close that chapter for good. It’s the first time with that friend that there is nothing the other person could do to convince me to engage again. It came to a head in the last week, when said human restarted the drama wheel by adding fuel to a fire that had all but dwindled out for me. I am healing; I am recovering. It’s a process. This woman I used to know and I live on completely separate wavelengths. I don’t understand her wave. She has no awareness of mine.

Sometimes missing a big thing in someone’s life will show you exactly how they already felt about you under all the details, it’s just a catalyst. If missing one day of an eighty-some year life makes one worthy of gossip, shame, and retaliation; it’s a reflection of the holes in the connection that already existed.

Over the last week I have written out reasons I hate myself. I’ve then turned back around an hour later, and written about how I deserve to be here. I’ve written about how I deserve to be loved, even if I make a mistake, or hurt people.

Years ago, a younger version of me considered each person a mirror. I didn’t believe there could be mistakes or faults in interactions, because there was so much to learn from each. The feelings that arise in me in an interaction shows me where I am with myself, not them. This week I learned that I was in a shitty, shitty place. This week, I also learned I was in a better place than before.

I didn’t learn this because of what an interaction did, but what it didn’t do. I didn’t mirror back emotionally distraught behavior, attempts to control a situation and move it my way, or demonization of a person I had once loved. I didn’t mirror apathy. I didn’t mirror wounds. I wasn’t angry with her.

I discovered that I have a belief that I should crumble in on myself when others are upset to balance the scales. I discovered that I only feel justified in existing after hurting someone else by responding with self-hate. I read in a book that if I wanted to change something I experience, I simply need to suggest to my mind it is possible to change my beliefs, so I did that. It did indeed open up a new gate.

My best friend could’ve been there to hold my hand while I gave birth to my son. She could’ve been there to spend time with me during my pregnancy. She could’ve been there for my graduation and many, many tender and lonely moments ~ but that is not reality. I don’t know why she never showed up for me, but I can’t have compassion for her lack of fulfillment of that role without relieving myself of the same. I can’t allow her that mystery instead of blame without extending myself the same. Pain is universal. The reason for every bit of the drama roots from pain that is not resolved within her and herself, and vice versa. So instead of passing the baton back, or using it to implode on myself any further I’ll just say this.

I’m really, really glad I missed the wedding, and can let go of all of this because of how it all transpired. I also wish I had been able to be her maid of honor. I’m really glad I won’t be friends with her again. I also really wish we could’ve done all of this differently, and succeeded together.

I have a mountain to climb in achieving a healthy, kind, and stable relationship with myself. But at the end of each day, I’m the only one I’m guaranteed to come home to. People are fickle. I had temporarily forgotten that I was worthy of standing by, and worthy of love when people are being ugly. Perhaps after this, my coat of armor will be that much stronger for longer.

In a way, I can thank her for being a ten year long catalyst for that reminder.