Beyond Me- Part Five: I Hate Her

I haven't fully decided yet but I can feel it in my bones- we are approaching the end of our mini series. So, let's talk some hard truths.

I actually came up with Part Five BEFORE I wrote Part Four. As I was forming this article in my head, I realized that I maybe needed to give a little bit more ground work. Though I hadn't really planned it this way, each part of this mini series has kind of leaked into each other, gradually getting bigger. And now we're here.

Shortly after I turned 18, the second semester of my senior year in high school, I met a boy, who from here on out we will call M. We had attended high school together all four years and never spoken, never crossed paths, until one of my classes got switched last minute and I found myself sitting next to him in Sociology. There were zero reasons for us to be friends, and so we really weren't. But he was kind and he was funny so we made the most of that semester. We shared fruit snacks every day and he challenged my thoughts on many subjects. Before we knew it the year was over and I thought I would never see him again. To make a long story short, we actually did end up meeting again later that summer due to some volunteer work. I became short staffed and remembered he had showed interest back in sociology, I reached out on a whim and he accepted. We ended up with similar assignments and grew close over the course of that week. We remained friends for 6 years. And then one day, we just weren't. When people ask what happened, I tell them that we had a messy fall out. I'm not sure why I say that because it was actually as gentle as a breeze. One day I just stopped talking and then I never heard from him again.

I've never heard a silence quite so loud.

The thing is, recently, I had really been questioning a lot of the friendships that I currently have in my life. "Beyond Me" was my way of trying to navigate that. First, I thought about my cup. I thought about how much I pour into others and how much they pour into me. Next, I thought about how different people received and express their love. I back peddled a bit on our third installment, when I reflected on the difficult nature of being an introvert in an extroverted world. It stemmed mostly from the idea of people expecting me to change the core of who I am. I eventually climbed out of that hole and addressed, in part four, how complex we are and how many different sides to us exist. And at the beginning of this article I explained that I only wrote part four to make part five make sense. And this is why:

A few weeks ago, I found myself in a pretty low place mentally. I was battling the question of whether or not I am a good friend, and I overwhelmingly kept coming to the answer- no. After nonstop reflection for two days in this unreasonable state, I found myself doing something desperate. I found myself reading old messages. Not just any old messages but specifically messages to and from M. Why M? Because my family and friends always said I was a nicer person around him. M often complimented me and spoke about my kindness in a way that no one else had. I started telling myself that maybe my friends would like that version of Allison better. So, I read the messages. I read what that version of me had to say and came to this realization- God, I hate her. I hate her SO much. And suddenly I was both angry and heart broken. Because that is not who I ever want to be again, and the thought of anyone ever wanting that version of me, made me feel as if I was mourning someone who wasn't even dead yet.

I can't tell you M's favorite color. I can't tell you what he wanted to be when he grew up. I have no idea what any of his moral standing are. Likewise, I don't think M could tell you very much, if anything at all, about me. Why? Because I gave him the TINIEST corner of my mosaic and asked to see all of his. He thought I was kind because I limited his view. We called each other best friends but were essentially strangers and that is at least 75% my fault. Last week I explained that people get what we give them of ourselves. I gave M little. But... I'm a different person now. I've added to my mosaic and for the friends I have now, I know to show them more than I did back then. I've grown and I've learned to balance the amount of myself that I pour into people, I've learned to try and love people the way they actually need to be loved (though I still fall short sometimes), I've drawn boundary lines to account for my introverted nature, I've uncovered my mosaic and given a guided tour.

I'm still not really sure if I'm necessarily a great friend or not. But I do know that M used to make his cookies too salty and would blame me when we baked together, I know the music he used to listen to when driving with his windows down, and I know that he cried when he first watched Your Lie In April. I know I wasn't the perfect friend then, but I was a friend who definitely tried. Just as I am now. And all I can do is continue to grow. I don't have all the answers. I don't even have the answers that I was looking for when I started this mini series. But I do know that I won't go backwards. I do know that I won't allow the actions of others to make me mourn myself, because I'm right here, alive and breathing and still becoming a new me every day.

This has been a very personal article, more so then I have done in the past. But I know that there are others fighting similar battles, because you told me so. If I could give any advise coming out of this mini series, it is this: never stop learning more about who you are. Keep digging, keep adding the things you find to your mosaic, keep adding to your cup. Because the more we know ourselves, the more we have to give to those we love. The more I know about myself, the more I can see beyond me.

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Thank you.