Gone in the blink of an eye


Today is not a good day.  Nothing bad has happened.  I am just not dealing well with recent events in my life.  I find myself drowning under the downfall of working with your best friend, and I can’t manage to find my way up for air.

7 years ago, the very day that Michal Jackson passed away, I met the man that would become my best friend.  He and I have been through ups and downs, joy, sadness, laughter, anger, and heartbreak together.  I “knew” that this would be a friendship that would last until he and I were old and grey.

I got thrown away.

A few weeks ago his behavior toward me completely changed.  When I confronted him about it he rather brusquely informed me that “my personal life will remain my personal life from now on.”  In other words, I was no longer welcome in his life, a life that he brought me into by his own choosing on more than one occasion.  Fine.  I totally get that.  What hurt was the fact that I had to go to him to find this out.  He didn’t have enough respect for me, enough respect for the past seven years, to come to me himself and tell me.  He simply turned his back and shut me out.  It hurt.  I felt like he punched me right in the gut.  When he said that to me I was, for once, speechless.  After all, what can you say when your best friend tells you that he is done.

I got thrown away like the wrapper off of a cheap value-menu cheeseburger.  It hurt.  It still hurts.  I can’t breathe.  I can’t smile.  Even now I am on the verge of tears, because I would rather have one minute of a day when he was angry at me than feel the way I feel right now.

Too make the fact that my best friend broke up with me even worse, we work together.  I can’t escape him, and seeing him everyday simply rips that wound right open again.  Too see him so nonchalant pours salt in the wound.  My anxiety is so high.  And then to have to put on the false smile and sound perky and happy  while I’m on the air.  I am strong enough for this.  I feel like I have been reduced, emotionally, to a little kid.  Over the past seven years, when something was weighing on me, he was the friend I would turn to for advice and guidance.  Who do I turn to now?

What made me so easy to throw away?  What made the last seven years so inconsequential?  How do I get past this and let that friendship go as easily as he did?


Until next time . . .


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