Who needs enemies when you surround yourself with “friends” determined to drain your light, undermine your self-esteem, and try to mold you into someone you are not? Somewhere along the way, I got lost. I stopped paying attention to the signs, stopped listening to myself, and began valuing the opinions of people I did not respect. When people showed me who they were, I made excuses. I saw what I wanted to see and made that my reality. If they showed a hint of goodness, I painted the entire mural in that color.
When I graduated college, 9/11 had just happened and the world felt like it was falling apart. Instead of applying for a job the old-fashioned way, one had to use resources like Monster.com and submit their applications to the ether in the hopes that ET would phone home. Not only were droves of people getting laid off, but the hope of getting a job seemed next to impossible and failure felt inevitable. Rather than surround myself with people who loved and supported me, I became depressed, lazy, and found myself associating with people I had been friendly with in the past who were merely geographically convenient.
Determined to not feel alone in my sorrows, I reconnected with a woman (let’s call her X) I had traveled abroad with. We talked on the phone and shared our feelings of hopelessness and despair, and provided one another with a compassionate ear. To satisfy and commiserate about our fears and anxieties in regard to our futures, X suggested we meet for coffee. She told me she would invite Y, a friend of hers, who was feeling the same way. When I arrived at the café, it was me and Y, the person I did not know. Our mutual “friend” X was late. Like a blind date, I approached Y and asked if she was waiting for X. She nodded her head. I suggested we purchase our coffee and find a nice cozy seat outside on the patio by the fire while we wait for X. As we walked to our desired table, pulled our chairs out and made ourselves comfortable, I heard Y say, “I hated you in college. I used to call you that Pi Phi bitch.” I was speechless. Come again? I let her continue. “Yeah, I used to write about you in my diary.” I did not see this coming. I tried to recall If I had ever met or seen this person before in my entire life. I had no memory. “That’s unfortunate,” I said as I found myself uncomfortably laughing. “I do not think we ever met. I certainly do not remember ever seeing or meeting you.” I just sat there drinking my coffee, wondering where X was. “Oh yeah and then I remember you when we traveled abroad. I hated you then too.” A healthy, self-respecting individual would have politely excused themselves at this point. I did not. I sat there until our mutual friend showed up.
I am embarrassed to admit that three of us would become “friends.” Wildly flawed myself, I desperately needed a life raft. They sufficed. It would not be until a decade later that I would learn I should have taken my chances, treaded water or attempted to swim to shore alone. After several years, there was no denying that I had not chosen wisely. I surrounded myself with sharks and piranhas when what I really needed were dolphins.
It was my 27th birthday and my “friends” wanted me to meet them at a hotel where they had rented a room to supposedly celebrate my birthday. Reluctant to go, I only obliged after what felt like hours of convincing. I figured the sun and swimming always put a smile on my face. If I went, maybe they would finally let me be.
One of the girls from the “friend” group picked me up and we drove to the hotel. Rather than going to the pool, she suggested we meet everyone in the hotel room. It seemed odd that we would not be meeting at the pool, but I did not think anything of it. As she knocked on the hotel room door, it opened with two other “friends” in the room. X and another friend let’s call Z. X and Z did not look celebratory. I ignored their mood, walked in all smiles, and went and sat on one of the beds. “I’m wearing my suit and ready to hit the pool whenever you guys are.” There was complete silence. What did I just walk into? “D, we brought you here to have a talk with you.” My body tightened instantly, and I found myself holding my breath. What proceeded next is what I can only describe as a deleted scene from the movie Mean Girls. My three “friends” began telling me what a bad friend I was to each of them. When I got up to politely excuse myself and find an alternate way home, X ran and blocked the door. As I fought her to try to leave, she pushed me back and said, “We are not letting you leave here until we finish our conversation.” I began crying. That is when Z looked at me and said, “It really makes me feel good right now that you’re crying.” I looked up at her horrified. Z continued, “At least now I know you care.” I do not recall what happened next or how the painful nightmare ended, but I do know that I was in the wrong for ever thinking these people were ever my “friends.” If anything, they treated me like they hated me. And maybe deep down they did.
Looking back on the whole horrendous experience, I would like to think that X, Y, Z, and “friends” did the best they could. I would prefer to give them the benefit of the doubt and think that they were not trying to attack me even if they were. Perhaps this was the only way they knew how to be a “friend”. It is not their fault we were not compatible to begin with. And it is not my fault that I was never going to want to receive the kind of “friendship” they were offering.
I do not know why I stayed friends with people who did not show me the love I wished to receive. I would like to think it is because I thought I could change them and make them kinder, nicer, more thoughtful and understanding. But that was my mistake. When people repeatedly reveal themselves to you, I recommend paying attention. While there were some good memories, the bad ones far outweighed the good, like most abusive, unhealthy relationships.
These women, X, Y, Z, and “friends” desperately wanted me to be a part of their group. Whether it was to poke fun at me or not, their frustrations with me revolved around the fact that I did not fall in line and play by their rules. I was not the good little soldier they wanted me to be. I did not nod my head and “yes them” to death. I was defiant, vocal, and worst of all an independent person and thinker. If I had a long day and did not want to go to dinner, I would constantly hear about how selfish I was. If I was not feeling a group outing or needed some Dani time, they were not understanding or respectful. Nothing I did according to them was ever right or good enough. It was almost as if my behavior and sense of being threatened their world and perhaps their sense of self.
I was young, naive, and trying to find my way. I spent so much time and energy trying to advocate for myself and find a way I could blend in and minimize waves. Everything I tried failed because I was not being myself. With every attempt at trying to please the unpleasable, I found myself losing myself even more. When my “friends” wanted to know why I was so insecure, unhappy, and all over the place all of a sudden, I wanted to cry out, because of YOU.
Like a tiny tiger cub, they brought me in thinking they could tame me. Meanwhile, they dated my ex boyfriends, talked about me incessantly behind my back, picked me apart like Legos and went out of their way to repeatedly tell me what was wrong with me and how I behaved.
I had been bullied before, but this was next level. In the end, I eliminated all of these horrible people from my life and concluded that we should have never been “friends” to begin with. I was not the person they wanted me to be nor was I ever going to be. Shame on me for not saying “when” sooner and ending the horrible cycle. I am no longer angry with myself for not knowing better. When I think about everything that happened, I am just sad. Sad that the people who were supposed to be my “friends” and lift me up, support me, have my best interests at heart, and see me thrive and shine treated me like an adversary who needed to be dominated and defeated. Sad that someone must have hurt each and every one of them so much, that passing their pain on was the only way they could feel better. I know they did not know better just as I too was flying blind. These “friends” were merely haters in disguise, destined to strip my light and deter me from being my best self.
I am grateful for the lessons they all taught me. While excruciatingly painful, I am much more discriminating and selective with who I allow into my life now. I no longer make excuses or paint a picture a color I know it is not. I am fortunate enough to know what a real friend is. I now surround myself with people who lift me up, respect my needs, my space, and my time. I know great friendships are rare and require knowing who you are and giving yourself and your friends grace to learn and grow without unnecessary rules and restrictions. If I do not want to go to dinner, it is all good. If I change my mind and decide I would rather stay in and be alone, it is understood and vice versa. It is refreshing, liberating and the opposite of what it felt like before. I learned that being with the right people feels like freedom. They are a breath of fresh air, a healthy does of happy, a trusted companion, a shoulder I can cry on, and my biggest supporters. They are also extremely rare, precious gifts who are beyond appreciated.
I often joke with my close friends and family that I won the lottery with my amazing, incredible, unconditionally loving family. It is the world that fucked me up. The friends I have now, along with my extraordinary family, were part of the village that helped bring me back to life. They were the ones who believed in me when I could not muster the strength to believe in myself. Most importantly they were the ones, along with my family, who taught me that with friends like these, I can just be ME.
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