I’m grieving friendships.
The last few years have been incredibly stressful for me in many ways. I have let parenting grab me by the ponytail and hold on so tight that I lost myself. While losing myself, I lost friends.
I guess that can be argued. I mean, what kind of friends just dump a friend when she goes missing?
I’m responsible too. I didn’t fight for them, either. Not even a bit.
I sort of told them what was going on. But, they never really asked.
I sat back and slowly watched them let me go for many months, sometimes years.
It ate me alive.
I’m unlikeable. I’m unreliable. I’m too loud. I’m a narcissist.
I’m. I’m. I’m.
They never liked me in the first place. They are gossiping about me behind my back. They like it better when I am not around. They are just tolerating me.
They. They. They.
These are the ways I talk to myself.
Pretty shitty, huh.
But, being a mother has caused me to change.
Is it even about me? How can I even make this huge life change be about me?
“People fucking change, Kyla.”
I mean, I allowed motherhood take so many other things from me that I should never have allowed my friendships to be a casualty of that.
I know some of you are freaking out.
Calm your tits. Motherhood has given me so many other great things.
Like this blog. Like lots of new friends. Like my career. Like empathy. Like a new sense of self that I never knew I had. Like therapy. Like deep love.
So, yeah. There has been lots of good. More good than bad, obviously.
Just let me tsunami all this out, m’kay.
I hate that I let motherhood cost me my friendships.
I regret not working harder on some of those friendships. I regret not letting some of them go earlier too.
Because some of you were real assholes.
Me? I’m never an asshole. That was a joke.
I just want you to know that I hope you are well and that I think of you and our friendships fondly and I hope you are rocking this bullshit better than I am.
I’m sorry for being a dick.