An exploration of friendship, learning how to let go

I learned something about myself last year that I wasn’t expecting.

I will hold on to something, anything, that feels like a problem, or a potential failure I need to fix until it’s either unrecognizable or I end up getting hurt.

My therapist made me confront this particular, uh, personality quirk I have last summer, early fall, when I opened up about some tragic life events that happened earlier that year. It was rather eye-opening to look back on the friendships, relationships and bonds that I had made over the years with this new perspective.

It was jarring, to say the least.

I can pinpoint exact friendships that I’ve held onto well past their expiration dates because to give up on them meant I failed somehow. It was about me and because it was about me, it began to hurt me mentally.

None of that shit is healthy. Not in the slightest.

I’ve done this with jobs in the past too. Jobs, however, are easier to let go of than actual people. Especially when you remember all the good times you’ve had and how awesome they made you feel in those moments. But…hindsight is 20/20.

Moving to Nevada took me on a real in-depth journey into myself; what do I want, who do I care about, where do I see myself in the future, who’s really on my team, how can I get where I want to be? These were questions I had long put on pause in 2017, as I struggled to find out what I wanted to do with my career and my life.

It all really came to a head last year and I feel stronger for it. I’ve let things go that were dragging me down or exacerbating my anxiety and depression or even just didn’t feel worth my time anymore. Though, removing yourself from so many familiar situations in a short period of time while you’re already going through it can be fucking traumatic. Guarding your heart is easier said than done.

Shout out to my husband, though, who really opened my eyes. He said that when I was going through my WORST, he had a list of people gathered in his head, this list were folks HE had observed caring about me, reaching out to me and in general, checking up even when I didn’t need it. That list was not exactly the same list I would’ve made and that alone let me know how distorted my perception of friendships and the reality of those bonds truly were. My husband knows me better than anyone else and his opinion is God-tier, so when I tell you he caused a perspective shift, I’m not even slightly exaggerating.

I have to pause here and say NONE of this is a bad thing. And this is not about “bad people or bad friendships,” this is specifically about ME and how I came to a realization in the way I look at friendships and other human connections in my life. It’s about me and my need to control, to help by fixing, to be the perpetual shoulder you cry on, while I pretend I need nothing in return.

When I began to put myself back together, I knew I had to take a gigantic step back from anything and everything that wasn’t driving me forward. I don’t talk to as many people as I used to. You can attribute some of that to the Big Cross-Country Move but part of it was purposeful as well.

I have chased after people my entire life, being there for them 24/7 at the expense of my own obligations and mental health. I’ve spent entire friendships perpetually helping them from one personal disaster to another and getting zero support in return. I realized that I was attracting the kind of people who take, take take, knowing full well I will give, give give because that’s just who I am.

Well, it’s not anymore. Or rather, I’m working on it. I’m being more selfish lately, focusing on my own happiness and that seems to be a success so far. One of the biggest highlights of these last few months is putting more emphasis on the great connections I already have while forming new ones. GROWTH, people.

Letting go isn’t giving up nor is it a failure, it’s just another step in a journey of progression you have to make alone. That sounds scary as hell but it’s worth the calmness and clarity you get afterwards. I promise.