This is going to be a long one, but a cathartic one. So, maybe nobody will read this blog post, but here goes… Here’s a novella…

One day, when I have children I’m really going to teach them the importance of being a good friend to others, and equally the importance of surrounding themselves with good, kind people. Of course children have friends and fall outs, and kids are kids, but I want them to know the importance of quality over quantity. I want them to know that someone who puts them down, is not a true friend. Someone who is fiercely competitive, is not a good friend (unless it’s Jenga, or Monopoly or Super Mario Battle on the N64, by all means go HAM on the competitiveness).

Growing up, I didn’t really know what a real friend was. I knew what I wanted a friend to be. I had this craving for a friendship I didn’t really have. I had a lot of ‘friends’, growing up, but I always felt rejected, or not respected by them. I’d cry a lot. I think because I didn’t get along with my siblings I wanted ‘true friends’ even more, and at the points in life that I had the most friends, I was actually the most lonely.

It always felt that maybe I expected too much from people, but now as an adult, I think I just had a really mature view on what friendship is. Maybe I was ahead of my time? Maybe because I’d been through a lot I knew that I wanted friends that are like family. I wanted my friends to be like the sister I had always wanted. At times I thought I had that, but I can safely say your close friends can break your heart more than any boy ever could. Leaving you with trust issues, and resulting in you building up walls.

The thing is, I know i’m not perfect. I have been a bit of a dickhead on many occasions growing up. I own my mistakes and I find it really easy to apologise, if I have unintentionally upset someone (I’d never intentionally hurt anybody) I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I’d make it right. If a friend and I had fallen out, i’d always try to rectify the situation, usually attempting to use comedy, because I knew life was too short and I hated conflict. I had enough of that at home with a very dysfunctional family.

One thing I always knew was that I was deeply compassionate and quite selfless. I always cared so much how other people were feeling. I knew all too well how it felt to be lonely, suffer crippling anxiety, feel insecure or inferior to others. Whenever I had a friend over, I went above and beyond to make them comfortable. One friend was around my house once and broke my bedroom mirror. Accidentally of course. Immediately I cared about my friend feeling ok. They were worried about the 7 years bad luck they may be facing, but I was worried that they’d be nervous or upset. So I hung the mirror back on the wall and made a joke of it. It was a sentimental mirror to me (I won’t go into why), but it was just a mirror. The same friend many years later spilled a cup of tea all over my mum’s white carpet. Although I thought ‘oh shit, my mum is going to kill me’, again I made a joke of it and said ‘don’t worry’. All I cared about was that my friend was OK, i’d do damage control after she left. Which fortunately another friend of mine came over with 1001 spray. It unfortunately didn’t work, so for the first time ever I lied to my parents and said I’d been sick. Many years later I told them the truth, to which they said ‘we know’. I couldn’t believe it, I guess i’m not a good actress. Much better suited for a career behind the camera instead of in front of it.

It may seem silly to go really far back, but in therapy I have been reflecting on my childhood a lot. One girl, she was pretty unkind but I still wanted to be her friend. I’ll call her Gemma. She told me her mum said I looked like a hamster (an insecurity I still have, but hey, hamsters are really cute right?)… One day, Gemma and my best friend (we’ll call her Hannah) were building a go kart for a school contest. I came along, as the Gemma was our mutual friend and Hannah invited me. I lived on the same street as Hannah. We got there, and Hannah went to work on the go kart. Gemma,  who’s house it was said ‘No, you’re not allowed on my drive.’ So I sat on the curb in the blazing heat. ‘You’re not allowed a glass of water’ as she passed one to my friend and passed her an ice lolly. Kids can be cruel can’t they? But her mum was aware of this. She didn’t tell Gemma off. She saw me sat there on that curb. Maybe she doesn’t really doesn’t like Hamsters? (This makes me glad that my mum would have grounded me and made me apologise if i’d behaved like that).  I didn’t feel safe riding my bike home on my own, so there I sat on the curb for a couple of hours waiting. I really needed the toilet, but I didn’t want to rush Hannah. I watched them have fun painting the go kart and talking about the race. The race I never took part in because my mum couldn’t afford the materials.

I just remember thinking when she was mean to me that ‘I could never say that to anyone’. In that moment, I felt inferior. I wanted to go home so much, where I was allowed to have a drink, and use the bathroom… but I was too scared to ride past the scary allotment or the equally scary main road. On my way home, I had an accident. Yep, I peed myself.  For a child aged 10, it was probably inexcusable but I couldn’t make it home on time. My shoe fell off and I asked Hannah to pass me it, she didn’t. I couldn’t hold it. Straight away it took me back to the first day in school when I was too scared to ask to go to the toilet and I was so scared of my first assembly (I was the new kid in class). It was actually Hannah’s cousin who pointed at me aged 5/6 and told the class to look at my white tights. So back to the bike ride home. Hannah found it hilarious, and I laughed along too and begged her not to tell anybody, but I got home and cried a lot. I was so humiliated. Why wasn’t I brave enough to ride home alone? Why did I sit on the curb and allow myself to be disrespected and degraded?  Why didn’t Hannah, my closest friend, tell the girl she was mean and that if I wasn’t allowed on the driveway, then she wasn’t going to stay either. Why?  I spent so much of my childhood questioning things I didn’t understand. Why people didn’t think like me? Why people didn’t care about other people’s feelings as much as I did? Why adults were cruel to me?

In hindsight, I know it’s because I had low self esteem that I let people treat me so badly.  The girl who didn’t let me on her driveway moved away for a year. My mum was not financially doing too well, we struggled but I always remember her going to argos and buying a really pretty silver plated bracelet for Gemma before she left for her year abroad. A year later, Gemma returned and quite nastily said to me, ‘you didn’t get me a gift before I left’. I reminded her of the bracelet, and she said ‘what bracelet?’. That really hurt me. Mostly because I was so protective over my mum and I knew she didn’t have a lot of money. I remember her taking me to argos to choose this bracelet and it was so incredibly sweet of my mum. I remember being really excited to give it to Gemma. It was so pretty, I wished I had one myself. I knew my mum didn’t have a lot of money. I knew she wanted me to be able to give a nice gift to my ‘friend’. It hurt that such a kind gesture was not only forgotten, but the girl was so harsh about it. My poor mum. I never told my mum. I never told my mum about anything at school, aside from the time one girl kicked me in the stomach. To be fair, Gemma was the same girl who said I had head lice and insisted on examining my head in the playground in front of everyone before I could go near them. I did catch head lice, twice in school. But so did she. If i remember correctly, she had it before me. Everyone did. Especially after sleepovers. My mum kept me off school and was extremely thorough to be sure my hair was lice free before I ever returned to school. But I let her examine my hair at playtime.

Kids are kids, I get that. I wasn’t perfect. I had no self esteem. However, now I know I was a sensitive kid but with a kind heart. At sleepovers, nobody wanted to sleep at the end, everyone wanted to be in the middle. Usually because we’d watch scary films, but I would always sleep at the end because as scared as I was, I didn’t want anyone else to be scared.

I remember one time when we were kids, at home, I heard scratching and banging on the wall. My big sister said ‘what’s that, oh my God, what’s that Stacey’. She was on the top bunk. I was so scared. I remember shaking, but I didn’t want my sister to be scared so I said ‘it was me. Don’t worry. I did it by accident. I hit the wall with my foot’. She laughed and said ‘No you didn’t, I did it. Why did you pretend you’d done it?’. She found it pretty funny. I didn’t. I was relieved it wasn’t a ghost or a monster, but again, I was confused as to why she was doing it.

Back to friendship.  I always wanted friends like in the films. The Babysitter’s Club, Now & Then, The Goonies, Stand By Me. Friends that really cared about each other and loved each other. Maybe the films gave me unrealistic expectations for friendships. I suffered awful social anxiety, among other things, so I’m sure I seemed clingy to my closest friends. I dreaded school trips, not having anybody to sit by on the coach. One school trip I was in a room of 13. Everyone was in pairs to do the week of group activities, I didn’t have anyone. I remember the sick feeling I had when not only was I with nobody from my room, I was with nobody from my class. I sat by the teacher on the bus, and then didn’t have a partner. Everyone would come back to the room each night talking about the fun time they’d had, I just cried under the cover and wanted to go home. This was so long ago now, and i’m crying writing this. Feeling a bit like the girl from ‘Mean Girls’ who wants to bake a rainbow cake right now (the emotional girl who doesn’t ‘even go here’ but  just has a lot of feelings), but even though it was so long ago, it’s still really raw to me. I had a pretty tough time at home. A broken family, and I was around a lot of adults that personally I don’t think I should have been. The kind of adults I wouldn’t allow my own children to be around. I was treated quite cruelly by adults, and even now i’m dealing with that in therapy. (whoa, here come the tears again, Jeez Stacey, get a grip).

So years went on. I later discovered boys and make up. Oh the joys. It wasn’t until I had left school and went to college that I started to get attention from boys. Although, I didn’t have my first boyfriend until I had left college and was 18/19. I know, late bloomer?  His name was Gavin. (his real name) Yep, I’m aware we were the original ‘Gavin and Stacey’, and no, I am not a fan of the TV show. I barely made it through one episode. That’s twenty minutes of my life I won’t ever get back.

He was lovely. He had a ‘Tim’ from ‘The Office’ thing going on. It was hot. He texted me saying he was crazy about me, but I knew one of my friends liked him so I said no a few times before finally going on a date with him. We get back in touch on occasion, but we’re not super friendly. He rolls with a crowd I no longer associate with, he has a family, a lovely partner and beautiful baby, so we say our polite ‘hello’s’ and leave it at that. He’s happy, and that makes me happy.

During this time, I thought I had a best friend. I knew Hannah never really liked me much when we were younger. When i’d call for her, and she’d say she wasn’t playing out and she’d tell me her and her family laughed at me riding past their window on my bike looking in.  I always felt her and her family mocked me behind my back. To be fair to them, they did it to my face sometimes. I knew though, that I was not to mock them back.  Not only that, I felt they mocked my family. They did that to my face a couple of times too.

Admittedly, I was a bit of a ‘clinger’. I constantly sought Hannah’s reassurance. But as we got older, I really felt she was my sister, my ‘bestie’, my soulmate. We would talk for hours (mostly about boys and bands we liked), we’d spend the summers around each other’s houses, kick it in London seeing our favourite bands in little venues, we’d drink tea and sit in the garden until 4am listening to Jimmy Eat World whilst laughing that a guy was texting us both and had no idea we were both sat together showing each other the identical texts, we’d talk about when we’d be each other’s bridesmaids, when we’d grow old and be ladies who lunch. I thought we supported each other. I loved her. Platonically, but it was love. I’d have taken a bullet for her. When she lost a loved one, she rang me, and my mum took me there right away. I had a BBQ planned with my siblings (which was a big achievement as it was very rare that we got on with each other), but that didn’t matter. My best friend needed me. I remember holding her when she was shaking and wanting so bad to take her pain away. I remember feeling as if her parents were like second parents to me. Seeing them all go through this cut me to my core. I loved them all if i’m honest. (apart from one of her brother’s who didn’t hide the fact he couldn’t stand me, later the feeling was mutual so I got over it). The really strange thing is that my boyfriend today, Craig, was there and witnessed her love one pass away. He was telling me about the time he saw an awful accident and it turns out he was the one there that day. He spoke to the emergency operators when the guy who rang was too upset to talk. So Craig and I didn’t know each other, but that awful tragic heartbreaking day sticks out in both of our minds

I know I was a good friend. I had love in my heart. I wanted Hannah to do well, I knew she would. I thought she was beautiful, talented and supported her, but sometimes she could be a little two faced (well, let’s be honest, she was extremely two faced with people), and this gave me headaches. Literally, I swear this is part of my premature forehead wrinkles. All that frowning I did when I was confused or pissed off and the insincerity. Can I blame her for me needing a fringe? or botox? Everyone thought she was the sweetest person ever, but I heard what she said about the same people behind their backs. Whereas not many people liked me as I was always taught to be honest so I used to say things to people’s faces. Now I don’t even confront people, I just avoid any conflict. I’ve grown as a person.

It got to  a point year later my parents could tell I wasn’t happy. They knew when i’d been hanging out with Hannah because they said I seemed quiet, or upset. I would get fiercely defensive and fell out with my folks a few times because of it. They liked her, and were sincerely nice to her, but they felt she didn’t respect me. They were right, I did feel down about myself after seeing her sometimes. I felt inferior, intellectually. I felt inferior to her in many ways. She was really slim and gorgeous and I was insecure and thought I was fat (I wish I had that figure now though). I felt like she mocked me a lot. Not banter, banter is two ways. It doesn’t come from a place of hostility. I love banter. My friends today and I are fluent… Bant and Dec, Arch Bishop of Banterbury… that’s us! Banta Claus!

There was one occasion I remember, and we both fancied the same guy. One night, she told me he said he thought I was cute, or that he fancied me… I played it off as if I wasn’t interested but inside I was saying ‘holy shit, the dude likes me. Oh my gosh, Yes Yes Yes’… She then said ‘he doesn’t anymore, we mocked him’. I don’t even want to know what was said to the guy to make him go from saying he liked me to him not liking me in the space of one conversation but I knew it wasn’t something a friend of mine should have said to him. Furthermore, I knew a friend shouldn’t take pleasure in telling me that a guy who liked me was mocked for liking me. What does that imply? Why did Hannah think it was ok to say that to me? That he liked me but now he doesn’t because they mocked him for it? Why was liking me something to be mocked?

A little while later, a close guy friend of mine asked me out. I really liked him. I thought he was cute, a bit of a prick, but I was a teenager, willing to let his lame jokes and the little bit of a materialistic side slide. When he asked me out, I remembered being teased by my other mates about it, Hannah included. I panicked. I said to him to ask Hannah out. He said he wasn’t interested, but I said he should as she’s cool and super pretty. So he did. They never went out, but later, the guy asked me out again, twice. I decided not to care about the teasing and I dated him. We broke up, he had a new girlfriend and didn’t see me for a year (she banned him from seeing me, he was such a muppet, he agreed)…. then a year later, he came back into my life. Me being a forgiving person, although he’d hurt me so much, I was just happy to hear from him. Hannah gave me a lot of shit. She was still pissed as he hadn’t spoken to her for a year either. One night turned up with a jar of sand from my favourite beach (later turned out he got the wrong beach in the same town, but a sweet gesture regardless). Slowly I started to fall for him again, but was angry at myself for being a pushover.  At one point I didn’t hear from him for a few weeks, but I knew he’d been hanging out with Hannah. I was upset because that night I was really down and after uni I said to Hannah, ‘if you’re free tonight can we hang out?’. I didn’t want to be at home. I also asked the guy if we could hang out. Both said they were busy. He said he was staying in with his brothers. Later on my mum asked me to drop something off to my brothers. My brother lived on the same street as Hannah. The guy friend lived on the street next to me. As I drove to my brothers I saw his car at Hannah’s. I Cried. I felt so upset that not only did they lie, but I had said I wanted to hang out. The guy later told me the reason he was around her house was because he felt if he made up with Hannah, it would be easier for him and I to be friends. Hannah had given me shit for talking to him again, so I was completely shocked to see not only was she hanging out with him, she lied to me. I felt left out and rejected. I cried on that drive home. (I cry a  lot, clearly). So yeah, the guy and I later talked and we started dating again. One day he said to me ‘Hannah’s kind of manipulative, I see her do things’. I opened up to him about how hurt I was over the years. I never told him how mean Hannah was behind his back. Years prior there had been times he’d turn up at my house (I live right by him) and he said ‘Hannah’s not home, wanna hang out?’ (this was back when he was pursuing her after I told him to). I didn’t tell him how she was in fact home, and her and her brother were mocking him and hiding from him, not answering the door. She was on the phone to me at the time. When he turned up at my house I thought he was a bit of a dick saying ‘you wanna hang out, my first choice doesn’t want to’, but I cared about his feelings. I didn’t want him to know that he was being ridiculed.

Driving with her one day I said ‘you’re not going out with him are you?’, thinking of course she wasn’t, i’d once dated him.  She said quite smugly ‘well, he did ask me out first’.  (I am quite certain she still has kept the valentines card he sent her one year, He laughs about that now and finds it cringe inducing).

I could have easily corrected Hannah and told her about how he had asked me out several times prior to ever asking her out. How I encouraged him to ask her out instead. But no. Her feelings were more important than mine so I let her think that. I was hurt that she said it, and how she said it. When I told him about it he said ‘why didn’t you tell her the truth? Why let her think that? Why let her speak to you like that?’, but I didn’t want to be the person who made a big deal out of it. Throughout the friendship there were many times I just kept my mouth closed. I was really insecure about my looks, and on more than one occasion I asked her to delete photos of me I didn’t like. One on a computer, that she deleted, but made a copy. Again, cue confused Stacey. Another was a photo of me that was awful. An actual physical photo. I asked her to get rid of it, but she didn’t. She not only kept it, but later told me it had been shown to some guys I really liked. Again, Cue confused Stacey. Confused. I was always so confused. This wasn’t what friendship was supposed to be surely? If this is what friends are like, I don’t want them. Again, I felt lonely and hurt.

I am not claiming to have been a perfect friend. But I certainly cared about her feelings. I certainly wanted her to love me like a sister like I had loved her. I respected her.

The friendship began to have cracks. I know it started with cracks, and we patched them up for a bit, but it got to the point I couldn’t cope with it anymore.

I have social anxiety. It’s something i’m only now getting help with. In  class at uni (I didn’t follow her here, I’d wanted to be a filmmaker since childhood and this was the closest uni to me, and the cheapest option. I wanted to go to the NYFA but that was far beyond my reach), we had to pitch an idea in front of everyone. We went around the table (informal) and when it got to me, I had a panic attack. I could feel my cheeks on fire, I remember my eyes watering, I remember shaking. I turned to Hannah beside me, thinking she’d have my back. Of course she would, as i’d have hers. I’d do anything to divert attention off of her if she was struggling. I’d do anything to help her out. I turned to her for reassurance, or even just a smile. What I was made all to aware of was that I was embarrassing her. She pulled away from me, and looked at me as if I was a stranger. As if she was annoyed i’d turned to her. It felt as if I was a ‘weirdo’ for turning to my closest friend for reassurance or support in this humiliating moment. Now I realise, that’s what friends are for. To support you, care about you, hold out a helping hand. Not to wrap you in cotton wool and hold your hand all the time, but at least care enough to help you out.  Friends shouldn’t be embarrassed to be there for you.

Prior to this, there was an even more humiliating moment in the same class. Our teacher was a bit of a jerk. He was really hot (and blatantly knew it), but he was a jerk. He did that lame thing you do in sports class where he choses a few ‘leaders’ and they choose teams. This wasn’t sports class. This wasn’t school. This was university.

Now, I could deal with getting picked last. Somebody had to be last, may as well have been me. In fact, I’d rather that than feel bad for somebody else being picked last (I am really sensitive to other’s feelings). So yeah, being picked last was not a big deal to me, bring it on. As the ‘leaders’ were picking people from their seats, it became clear I was going to be last. I  was fine with that. I was mature, I wasn’t going to be upset over it. But the thing is, I wasn’t picked. I wasn’t picked at all. After the penultimate person was picked everyone awkwardly laughed. Nobody said my name. I tried to play it off cool, as if I didn’t care, but I started to feel my cheeks burning, my eyes water, I looked at my hands and they were shaking. I picked up my bag to leave, I was too dignified to remain sitting there. I didn’t want to take part in the class anymore, in that moment I thought I’d change uni and do the same course somewhere else. I had after all just settled for the Uni that allowed me to stay at home and commute affordably. As I went toward the door I decided to go up to Hannah and say ‘can I be in your team?’. She shrugged and said ask (forgot their name). The chick she thought was ‘just so cool’. (the cringe is real).  I asked them, they said yeah. Then the lecturer said loudly, No Stacey, you’re not being with Hannah. Fortunately then a sweet girl in the class said to me ‘you can join us’. The relief. I was about to leave the classroom, run to my car, drive home and bury my head under a pillow until the humiliation had passed.

Now, I was again, confused. I know that if anybody was sitting there alone, without their name being called, whether I was a ‘leader’ or not I’d say ‘come join us’. Regardless if I didn’t know their name (we did know each other’s names by then though). I’d have said to the leader, ‘don’t forget them’. I’d have made sure that that person sitting in that chair did not feel rejected, or self conscious. What makes it more confusing, is that my best friend of many years was in my class and didn’t care that I was sat there alone. Didn’t care that I was already insecure and lacking self esteem. She just didn’t care. In that moment, I realised she wasn’t a true friend. I remembered all of the times she was bullied at school, and I would defend her and in turn the bullies would target me. This happened more than once. I know this wasn’t the same. This wasn’t school. It wasn’t a case of bullying (although a therapist since described it as quite cruel), I’m not crying that i’m such a victim but where’s the basic level of human decency?

When my grandad died months later it was really traumatic for me. I’d been in hospital holding his hand for over 4 days and nights, I went home to shower after 4 days at hospital and he died within an hour of me leaving. Seeing somebody you love so much, and holding their hand as they’re dying is incredibly difficult. Seeing someone deteriorate coming in and out of consciousness, it was heartbreaking. Seeing my mum lose her father was literally almost too painful to bare. Seeing my auntie hold her dad’s hand as he was dying was unforgettable. I had a couple of days off uni. Being at the hospital was more important to me than any degree I was working toward. When I went back to uni, two of the lecturers were really sweet. It was awkward because one lecturer I had a lot of banter with and got on brilliantly with (he asked me if I’d ever done stand up and said I should on the side) saw me burst out crying so from then on, it was a bit awkward. I missed that ace banter for the rest of my time there, but I went from being depressed into a really dark depression.

Hannah told me that ‘jerk’ teacher had been saying everyday during my absence, something along the lines of ‘is he dead yet?’ about my grandad. Mockingly. Not in a concerned way. Not in a caring way. But him, as usual, thinking he was funny. He was disrespecting my grandad, who was an amazing man, who I respected and loved and had just seen die. You can talk crap about me, but not a great man like my Grandad. Hannah told me she thought ‘jerk teacher’ was a bellend for saying this, but a few days later she was back to being really chummy with him and that sort of flirty laughing BS. Personally, no matter how ‘hot’ someone seems, if they don’t have a good personality or kind heart, I no longer find them attractive. I was too exhausted and heartbroken to confront her about it, but I knew if someone had said that about her loved one who passed away years ago i’d probably have been kicked out of uni for vocalising how much of an inappropriate asshole ‘jerk’ teacher was. I certainly wouldn’t have even been cordial to the guy if he’d been so awful about my friend, regardless of whether he was my teacher. I also don’t try and ‘cut laugh’ at anyone’s lame jokes, especially a teacher. So for her to be nice to him, and giggle with him, after he had been so cruel and inconsiderate about her ‘best friend’, that was the moment I thought ‘f*ck this’. As soon as I graduate i’m finished! We’re done. I’ll be polite to you until then, but I don’t care about the 17 years we’ve known each other, we’re not friends.

I started to drink a bit more than I used to. I didn’t drink most weekends like a lot of students, but one night abroad I got ridiculously drunk. So drunk that I probably should have went to a Spanish hospital. I drank more than an appropriate amount of vodka on the plane (severe fear of flying) and I drank more vodka when we got to the villa, I drank red wine (which I hate), quite a few glasses of white wine. I was so drunk, I don’t know how I got to bed, and I had no recollection of my boyfriend and mother changing me into my pyjamas.  I remember being on the roof talking about the moon and thinking security were shining their torches on me and that’s about it. My boyfriend told me that I asked him to dial Hannah’s number that night (he told me this the next day). Why on earth he felt I was in a fit state to talk to anyone is beyond me, but I think he was just happy I was no longer throwing up in the sink or rolling about on the roof talking about the moon. So I vaguely remembered ringing her that night. I remember certain sentences. Not sentences I thought of myself.

You know how people say ‘the truth comes out when you’re drunk’, that doesn’t apply to me. What applies to me is ‘stupid sh*t you’ve heard other people say, you repeat when you’re drunk’. I remember who said the things I think I repeated. To this day I don’t know the extent of what I said but I know it was awful. I know they were voicemails I left. I know I repeated some ridiculous unkind things. I also remember crying and saying that I loved her like a sister. I know she probably played the voicemails to all of our mutual friends. But the next day, when I wasn’t yet sober, but sober enough to care, I asked my boyfriend to text her and ask her what I had said. She replied ‘don’t worry, Stacey just said she loves me and thinks i’m beautiful’. I was so relieved. So I hoped that as all I said, but I had a feeling I’d repeated some things. Weeks went by, everything seemed fine. One day I was around her house and she said ‘I will never tell you what you said’. She emphasised how awful it was. To be honest, I never want to know the words that came out of my mouth because I have the biggest conscience of anyone I know and I know i’d never forgive myself. But what hurts is that there are probably a lot of people who know what I drunkenly said even though I have only a tiny clue.  I regret getting that drunk. I’ve never gotten so drunk since, and now I rarely drink. I wasn’t well. I was on medication, I was around people who said unkind things and I am pretty sure I repeated them. I was an adult, I did drink irresponsibly, I did then repeat awful things people had in the past said in front of me (people I no longer spoke to).

What I don’t understand is why she pretended to be my friend after that? why not confront me? give me a chance to apologise and explain? I told her how poorly I was the rest of the week. She acted as if nothing bad had been said. If anything, she acted nicer than usual. Until I was in her house. She then decided to tell me i’d been awful and she’ll never tell me why I said. I left feeling awful, again. It was my own fault, but if it had been the other way around, i’d not have pretended everything was ok. I wouldn’t have led her into a false sense of security. I wouldn’t have welcomed her into my home to make her feel uncomfortable and let her know she’d been unkind. I’d have spoken to her about it on mutual ground. Soon after. I’d not have pretended everything was cool. I’d not have been super friendly and then change when she was around my house. I’d have been concerned by how much she was drinking if i’m honest. I’d ask why she’d say such things. I’d say it was out of character and I’d want to know where it came from. I’d genuinely want to understand how she’d been a drunken prick.

This wasn’t the ‘official’ end of our friendship. That came a little bit later on. A few months passed. A few of our mutual friends started talking about how she was away on a trip. I said ‘oh, that’s cool. She didn’t tell me. She’s always wanted to go there, I bet it’s beautiful’.  They then said she had posted all about it on Facebook. I looked and she had blocked me from all of her statuses about the trip. I just didn’t even want to know the point of it. I just deleted her. I was too unwell for mind games. It seemed petty and pointless. I knew she was being extremely two faced with me. I just wasn’t about that life.

When she got back, I heard nothing. No message, no phone call. Nothing. No reaching out. No ‘dude, what the f*ck, why did you delete me you bellend?’.  After 17 years, nothing. It was then clear to me it was a one sided friendship. I’d loved someone so dearly for all of those years, and the feeling was not mutual. She didn’t care. I don’t think she ever really would have cared, even if I didn’t get beyond wasted and make that stupid call. I wasn’t important to her. I think i’d always known it. All the little put downs, the comments like ‘I’m so glad I have my family and not yours’.

So at this point, I felt sad. I felt heartbroken still from the years of hurt. But I wished her well and got on with my life. Later though, I had a one star on one of my youtube videos (I know, scandalous. Burn much? one star on a youtube video, the burn). This was back in the days of stars. I looked on her page out of curiosity and yep, she had been on my video and rated it one star. This is months after we parted ways.  This was an old video. This was petty!

A guy I had been really hung up on, that had moved away to New York City, a guy she couldn’t stand and slated, this guy, she started to get in contact with him again. Be super nice to him (unbeknown to her, he was still very much in contact with me and telling me all of this, he laughed and said he’d never let her music penetrate his ears). She went from calling him a ‘rat boy’, to kissing his butt. I’m guessing that would be a way to hurt me? Hit up the guy I thought I was really into. Or maybe because he was doing so well now living in the big apple, she decided to be cool with him. The guy I was still hung up on. The guy who I had a romance with and believed his promises there’d be a future. The guy I cried about, who I felt like an idiot about, who I was going to fly out to NYC for. She was so vocal about not liking him, it seemed odd to me that after her and I parted ways, she was all about him.

Not only that, a mutual friend (Jenny) told me she contacted a girl we both used to be good friends with, i’ll call her Sally. Hannah didn’t like Sally. Hannah and I had a big fall out with Sally. The year after that Hannah would mock Sally, and say how lame she was.  Sally was a friend that on the last day of school got mad at me because I got an A. She was mad, and her mother was mad because they thought Sally was the only one in class to get an A for that GCSE. So of course, that was reason to be angry at me (confused Stacey again).  I obviously got the A in one of my favourite subjects to spite her. I was obviously not wanting to do well in life, I wanted to compete (in the words of Cher Horowitz ‘As if’).

Sally turned out to be really spiteful and even had her ridiculous mother screaming at us down the phone during our fall out. Something I didn’t expect aged 19. Something my own mother would never do.  After Sally and us fell out, I wanted my video back, so I asked a mutual friend Jenny (not actually her name) to get the video back from her for me. To me, this was a mature, easy way for the video to be returned. (old skool, videos! it was a rare one, an american TV movie I got off of eBay so I couldn’t rebuy it). Jenny returned to me and said ‘Sally and her mum said No. You have to collect it yourself from their house’. Once again, CONFUSED STACEY. So much confusion. why? what is the point of this?  Why not just easily pass it to Jenny, and Jenny could give it back to me, and we could all go on about our lives, drama free. I found out from Jenny the day I was meant to collect it that Sally, her mum and her two rather mean sisters were planning an ambush on me. Sally and her sisters would be waiting in the room by the front door, and her mum outside. Well, with this knowledge I told my mother and she and my stepdad went to collect it. Sally was pissed! She later that day complained to Jenny that their plan had failed and that I didn’t even go to collect it. She was really annoyed. Majorly disappointed that their ambush didn’t go ahead. Like Dude, of course I didn’t go! I’m not stupid. I was avoiding that drama like the plague. It was amusing to hear how Sally’s mum was so shocked when my stepdad said ‘hello’ and picked up the video by her feet as she was tending to her hanging baskets outside the front. I love my stepdad. He was really cheery saying ‘Hello, is this Stacey’s? ok, thank you. Take Care’. Sally’s mum was lost for words. I can picture Sally and her sisters (one of them much older than us) in that room, whispering, looking out the window trying not to be seen. Sally’s mum was all sorts of ridiculous. I now have a disabled mother, following an acute stroke, but many years prior to this, I had a run in with Sally’s mum. Sally would use her mum’s disabled badge to park in disabled spaces at the cinema, or restaurants when we went out. I voiced my opinion on how immoral I found this. That it’s depriving someone disabled of a space. That we shouldn’t be using her mum’s badge. (I think her mum had a bad back and still had a badge for it, i’m so glad now they have photos and a lot more information on them). Her mother got incredibly angry at me. How dare I question her precious Sally. How dare I say I thought it was wrong that she was using her badge to get a space. Now, year later, it makes me face palm even harder that they were so inconsiderate! As you can probably tell, Sally’s mum was always getting involved. The first time I met her she called a 16 year old girl in the village a very harsh label. It rhymes with hut, and begins with ‘sl’. I remember thinking ‘whoa, Sally’s mum is so bitchy’.

So back to Hannah. Hannah slated and had no intention of becoming friends with Sally again. She even once said she got satisfaction seeing Sally a year later and Sally was looking ‘ugly’. Sally, was a a lot of things, but she was a very pretty girl.  Sally’s mum had  shouted at Hannah’s mum on the phone. Hannah’s mum didn’t deserve it. Hannah’s mum was actually lovely. Sally was a class A muppet. But I guess when I was no longer in the picture, it’s good to team up and have a mutual enemy? I guess she needed that validation. She had to become ‘friends’ with Sally again.  Call me crazy, but i’m a believer of quality over quantity when it comes to people I choose to share my life with. I’m also a believer in moving on, wishing people well but remain dignified and walk away. I’m not one for wanting ‘revenge’. That seems so unhealthy to me. She even was in contact with my estranged big sister and spoke about me. It just seems really unhealthy to me. To be so negative. I’d walked away, we were no longer in each others lives yet she continued to discuss me. I’ve discussed her since, once. For about ten minutes during a therapy session. Even then it was more reflecting on my growth and how I became the person I am today. It certainly wasn’t a bitch fest. I used to wonder whether she’d reach out, whether she’d confront me about things if she was so active in talking about me. I was kind of hoping we’d just forget each other, or just have a mutual respect for one another. When I was told she’d been in contact with my sister, to say awful things about me, so much time had passed that I thought it was another Hannah (not her name, but as they have the same real name, i’ll give them the same name here).  I was corrected. ‘Uh, no, your ex best mate Hannah’. I laughed. I said ‘I haven’t thought about her in years, why are you still in contact with her? you can’t stand each other’. Just really lame to me. You know what Hannah, good luck with these people. Maybe they’ve changed. I know Hannah won’t ever read this, but I hope she’s kinder to herself now and not desperately trying to constantly seek validation.

 

I don’t have enemies. I’m about good vibes only. We’re just strangers with memories.

I feel bad for Hannah now. That she chose to be friends with people who are quite honestly dicks. People she could never stand and was incredibly two faced about. I couldn’t imagine surrounding myself with people like that. I value sincerity too much. Honesty, Integrity. I Love Love. I love beautiful souls. I love people who are hilarious and rip me, but happily invite me to mock them back. I don’t need to reach out to people from my past who I lost respect for in order to feel validated. They are in my past because we weren’t suited to being friends or acquaintances.

One of her friends, used to be my friend. Let’s call him Simon. He was the bitchiest dude i’ve ever known. A few months ago I was reading through old emails. Really old emails. From almost a decade ago.  My boyfriend asked why I was crying. I hesitantly let him read these emails from Simon. I could see my boyfriend raising his eyebrows and holding his chin in disbelief. He looked at me, shook his head, and continued reading. He laughed. Not because he found it funny, but because he was so taken aback from how absurd some of the content was of these lengthy emails. Acid tongue? this dude has acid fingers. I’m concerned for the safety of his keyboard because I’m guessing her was pounding away writing them.

I would never allow myself to be spoken to like that now, and it makes me sad to think what I once put up with. I remembered when I received them. How I was so upset I vomited and missed my first two weeks of uni (third year).  Simon has heard through Hannah that I was on anti depressants. This wasn’t something I told people, it was personal. I wasnt ashamed of it, but it wasn’t something I wanted to bring up in conversation. Simon sent a series of angry emails saying that I had no right to be depressed. That I was self absorbed and he was mad i’d not bothered with him in a while. He said that my parent’s had a nice house, and a pool. He said I was an awful girlfriend to my boyfriend at the time (who is now my best friend in the world and thinks I was a lovely girlfriend). He said that me being depressed was depressing him. The wording in the emails was so hateful. So strong that even a decade later I burst out crying reading them. Full on sobbing.  This is the same dude who crossed a boundary in restaurant a few years earlier. Maybe this next part may explain why he thought I was an awful girlfriend?

We were on a double date, and I stole a dough ball from my boyfriend’s plate. We were playful like that. Always joking, always messing about. We were silly together and just liked to laugh a lot. I think I said ‘look, there’s a butterfly’ and when he looked I stole one and laughed. Simon was in a foul mood. Earlier that night when my boyfriend and I were trying to find him (we didn’t have a sat nav) I was on the phone to simon asking directions, and I said to my boyfriend ‘can you see the venue?’… Simon shouted down the phone ‘you have f*cking eyes’. I went quiet. My boyfriend asked what was wrong? He suggested we drive the hour back home and miss the show. He said I didn’t look well. I was just taken aback at how I was just spoken to on the phone just for asking my boyfriend ‘who was driving’ if he could see the venue as I couldn’t. We had driven an hour to go to this show that Simon invited us to. Through the show he kept making inappropriate mean jokes at my expense in front of his date who I had never met before. She was really quiet and shy. Back to Dough ball -gate, after the show, in pizza express, he said to my boyfriend very angrily ‘if she was my girlfriend, i’d hit her’. My boyfriend at the time was more than angry but handled himself really well. We even gave Simon’s date a lift home even though it’s the first time we’d met her. After we dropped her off, (yep we offered to take her home, not Simon! i’m not sure how she was going to get home)…. my boyfriend said ‘dude, your friend’s a prick, we’re never hanging out with him again’.

This is all in the past. I don’t think of it often. I have much more important issues to concern myself with. Finding those old emails, and reflecting on my past in therapy just really brought back old feelings. I was not a perfect friend. But I was a good friend. This I am more than certain of.

So, after therapy i’m going to think less of the past. The pain. I’ve self reflected, owned my mistakes and today I am proud of my heart, my integrity, my morals. I surround myself with the most loving, kind, genuine people. I just wish I had met them sooner in life. These are the people I craved for all those years. The soul mates I wanted so desperately. The family I never really had with the people I share DNA with. These are the people I want to grow old with, who I could call at 4am or they could call me and i’d be there. They were worth the wait. They’ve held my hand through the hard times. My best friend in the world is my ex boyfriend. The one I owe a dough ball too. We’ve been through so much together. He was there the night my mum had a stroke, and he cried with me. He drove behind the ambulance.

So, I rarely think of the ‘friends’ from my past,  I see it as they were there in my life to serve a purpose. Some people come into your life as blessings, others as lessons (I’m not sure where that quote is from).

One last reflection on my friendship with Hannah though. Well not so much that, but one thing that makes me so glad I cut those ties. When I got with my boyfriend I received some very nasty and abusive messages off of a girl. A girl that was his friend’s little brother’s girlfriend. Yep, you read that correctly. My boyfriend’s friend’s little brother’s girlfriend sent me abusive messages. Apparently I had stolen Craig from their group (I’ll hold in laughter here). Well, it turns out that this spiteful and clearly bored girl is friends with Hannah. I’m so glad i’m far removed from people like that. Oh, and the day I got these abusive messages? …my 27th birthday. I even said to her ‘please stop, it’s my birthday’. I was 27, too old for this, my mum had not long had a stroke and I still don’t get the girl, well woman, she was a grown woman, I still am confused as to what her fascination with Craig was. He said he barely knew her and that she wasn’t a nice person. Well, I saw that first hand.  It’s very rare that i’ll wonder what Hannah’s up to now, we no longer have any mutual friends. Sometimes someone will say they bumped into her, but other than that we really are just strangers with memories. I hope she’s happy and well, but I feel bad that she keeps the sort of company she does. She rolls with some pretty shitty people and for that, I feel bad. But I guess that’s her choice.

So, Simon’s of the world?  you’re welcome to them dude. The Sally’s of the world, you’re welcome to them. Good Luck with that. I am so glad and feel so empowered that I never have to be around people like that again. I love myself too much now to let people play with my heart, let people tell me i’m too ‘privileged’ and not allowed to be depressed. Depressed people are not ungrateful for their blessings. Trust me. Mental illness does not discriminate. I refuse to be hurt by people’s ignorant words.

I have no room for hostility, jealousy, bitterness or negativity in my life.

I actually know a lovely Simon now, so maybe Simon wasn’t the best code name. Apologies to Simons!

So, this essay has finally come to an end. I won’t speak of these people again. I doubt i’ll even think of them again. I try to only remember the good memories. I hope my children are fortunate enough to be around good people throughout life. I hope they value the same things I have learnt to value. I hope they won’t settle for anything less and that they won’t let others disrespect them. I hope they don’t have all of my insecurities and are confident. Of course they’ll have to learn from their own mistakes, but I want them to know from a young age to always be kind and don’t associate with people who are unkind towards them. Throughout life we’ll meet difficult people, that’s unavoidable. However, we do choose who we call our friends. I will teach my children the importance of quality over quantity.

Now i’m going to bake a dairy and egg free cake made of rainbows and sunshine. (No i’m not, it’s almost 4am).  High five, if you get the reference. I just have a lot of feelings.

Remember to always be kind to yourself and others,

Much Love,

S

xx