I can’t sleep. I’m sitting here the night before I embark on my magical weekend in Minnesota, filled with friends and Matchbox Twenty (does one really need anything else?), and the time has come to tackle the hardest part of my List.
Last spring when I was in the Northern lands I found out something that ruined the best feeling I had/have ever felt. It, eventually, ruined a friendship that I never imagined losing. It was, without question, the worst.
The hardest part was that I blamed myself. For the years leading up to it, when it happened, and after, I just couldn’t stop thinking there was something I did wrong. Something I should have texted. I should have worn. I should have not said. I should have not bought.
It was exhausting. It sucked a lot. But it was also fruitless.
I can’t change what happened. I can’t change how either of us acted or reacted at whatever point during those years. If I’d donned that dress, it really wouldn’t have mattered. If I had smiled more, we’d still be here. If I’d say I’d agreed, it would still have been forgotten. There are so many things that I looked back and said, “I did this wrong.” But I didn’t. I did what I thought was right. I tried to be a friend and a champion and more when needed.
So, now I’m sitting here and I can’t sleep, because it’s my least favorite month and I’m facing these things that still sting sometimes. But the important part is that I don’t blame myself anymore. I didn’t ruin the relationship, I didn’t make myself the other woman, I didn’t abandon my friend until it was clear (to me at least) that it was the right thing to do. I erred on the side of love, loyalty, and yes, naivete. But I needed to forgive myself for the time I wasted, the mistakes I made, and the people I inadvertently hurt–including myself. I had to, and I did, and I’m letting go. Take that, 26. Fucking. Take. That.