I’ll be blunt, I have depression. And I’ve lost a lot of people because of it. I had this friend once -infact, I had a lot of friends once- that I spoke to on the daily. Like, shit, we were inseparable to the point that it was weird not spending a day together. And one day, on one of my worst days, she left me. No, literally, she left me crying and throwing up on the side of the fucking road and never spoke to me again. Know who you are yet? Anyway, this didn’t bother me so much at the start. I thought she was just having a moment – not speaking to me because she couldn’t handle depression the way I sprung it on her (she hadn’t known until this very night). So I waited, I waited and I waited and I waited. I sent her texts, I messaged, I gave her time and space. Nothing. A day. A week. A month. A year passed and my anger grew. Everyone asked why we stopped talking, and my answer is this: I have no fucking idea. I mean, maybe she couldn’t handle another breakdown, maybe if I did do what I said I’d wanted to do, she thought she’d cope better not being close to me. Maybe she too had/has depression and she couldn’t confide in me. Maybe she just decided she didn’t actually want to be my friend, maybe I said something that she didn’t like. Trust me, I’ve run through all of the possible reasons over and over and over. I. Don’t. Know. But what I do know is this: I am so glad that friendship ended. Thank you. Thank you so much for leaving me there on that wet grass of a stranger’s footpath so that someone – anyone – could come and pick up the pieces that you threw out like fucking garbage. That friendship was toxic. It was so bad for my health, both mental and physical. I felt like I had to be something different for her. I felt like I was being compared to, and like I wasn’t quite enough for her. Not skinny enough, not fit enough, not pretty enough. Anything I was; she was better. And yet I cried; I cried a lot those first few months. Before, during and after I realised you weren’t good for me. But I forgive you. And I’m bitter. And I don’t care.
But this isn’t about you. It’s about them; the people who need people. So I guess the point of this blog post, reader, is to tell you this: don’t EVER try to hold onto something or someone that can’t ‘handle’ you. And know that it doesn’t make them a bad person, nor you. It just means they aren’t going to be there when you need them. And I can tell you; having no one to reach out to is a whole fucking lot easier than having someone to reach out to that refuses to grab your hand and have you. All I needed was someone to tell me that it was okay, that I could get through one night. It wasn’t you, I get that now.
And if you’re wondering – I lived that night. I didn’t do that thing that I told you I wanted to do. And don’t worry, someone came for me, someone was there. It wasn’t you.
And it’s okay.
What Amy Writes 