Why I Can’t Make Friends

 

I am staring at an angry email in disbelief from someone I thought was a friend. There was a misunderstanding from both parts. This person last replied with such vile and in a bully way, I am stunned.  I look at my world today. It is not a secret to me that I have a hard time making friends. A psychologist would have a field day with all that has happened in my life. It is no wonder why I have a handful of people I can trust to have my back as I have theirs.

Up until I was ten-years-old I was very social. I had a lot of friends through school, the neighborhood and skating. Then Mom died. My world stopped. Two weeks later my best-friend shot herself after finding her dad’s gun. She did not leave a note but it was well-known how sad she was.  When I returned to school there were whispers as I walked down the hall. No one knew how to ‘treat’ me. Only my best-friend knew, and then she was gone. I felt like a circus freak.

When my dad’s anger over my mother turned to abuse, I withdrew more into myself. I mistakenly put presumptions when a school mate would extend an invitation. I was swimming in the world alone without an anchor or a compass to show me where to go. After being abandoned physically and emotionally to those I loved, I craved acceptance. When I was sixteen, I entered the foster care system. My anchor became my foster mom. She is the reason why I did not turn to drugs or achcohol. I did dabble with people but never dove into to numb my grief. I turned to the stage and food.

As I grew older and becoming a mom, things for me have shifted for the most part. I make sure my girls have every possible tool and love they need. I have more friends I trust. When life has hit me hard in the heart I falter and go back to the old ways of giving others high expectations.  It is this lesson that being raw and authentic online and off makes me realize that this person who wrote did not get. Mistakes happen and we move on. And that is what I will do too.