A message from the past

There was a vibration in my pocket. I knew the rhythm of it, that one was a facebook message. I opened my phone and was immediately intrigued by the content. "Please tell me, did Kat cheat on me?" I knew which Kat he was referring to, he had two children with her and had been her on/off partner for around 12 years. But she wasn't anything to me anymore. She wasn't my best friend, she wasn't my most favourite person in the world anymore. She was just another name in the list of people who had decided to abandon our friendship because the shepherd had moved the flock. I knew the answer to his question. But I still felt an old stab of misplaced loyalty and refused to give it to him. Perhaps it wasn't misplaced loyalty, perhaps it was fear that old bullshit would land on my shiny new doorstep if I did say anything. I had a brief conversation with Kat, somehow I still had her number stored in my phone. She was as affluent with words as ever, using the same sayings that made her acutely likeable and popular. We spoke as if nothing had ever happened for a few brief moments. Damning all men to hell, and bantering like she hadn't tried to avoid me the last time I randomly bumped into her whilst doing some christmas shopping. And then I decided to point out the elephant in the room. "I hope you get everything sorted." I said, and I meant it. "Sorry I've not said much lately but still trying to understand why I was phased out by everyone and its been tough to see all your pics together. Anyway take care." I knew I wasn't going to get a response after that. That was far too deep, but talking about the father of her children discovering she'd had an affair apparently wasn't. I disclose too much, allegedly had an affair. I remembered her saying at the time I fell into my pit of despair how she didn't understand how things had got like this. How our other friends had taken the "new me" so badly. None of them hung around for the afterparty. By the time I had put all my broken pieces back together I was completely ostracised. Part of me felt like perhaps she hadn't wanted this outcome, but the choice was simple. Stick with me as I made one bad decision after another. As I fell into a pattern of casual sex and depression. As I lied to the faces of those who I perceived as judging me. I didn't realise at the time but that was the anxiety clawing its way under my skin. Or stick with the group who could all see me for what I was. A liar, a thief, a mess. Why pass up the chance to bond over such a mutually exclusive target? Of course I was many things, but never a thief, but once you're on a roll with being a failure people tend to add their own content for dramatic purpose.

I spent the rest of the day wrestling with my thoughts over it. The only reason I had received that message was because this alleged affair took place during the time Kat and I had been inseperable. I had only informed her of it because part of me wanted the opportunity to say those words I had parted with. Those words I knew would not inspire a heartfelt response. And yet I felt I needed to say regardless. And the more I fought with myself over it, the more I realised how much I had changed and grown since my days within that group that had once been mine but now belonged to her. They pose for selfies and talk trash behind each others backs. They have group chats on whatsapp just for the sole purpose of talking more trash. They think that they have a bond which is certifiably close but it is based on mutual dislike, a need to convey solidarity amongst popular women and looking good with the right people. I used to be like them. And I know why, because I wanted to belong. I wanted to be accepted. I wanted the selfies and the holidays and nights out. Problem was, I genuinely loved these people and it broke me when they decided I was trash. Perhaps I genuinely betrayed them, perhaps I was trash. I felt like trash, I felt worthless and no damn good. It was during this time I had left my marriage and the home I'd shared with my husband and kids for 5 years. I was living at my Mothers house in a 2 bedroom end terrace, using the living room as my sleeping space. I'd lost my job, and I had no money and the debts of my marriage were piling up. The urge to run away was all consuming. I wasn't myself, which is a term all too frequently used. But it was abundantly clear that I wasn't,infact, myself. As individuals, these people were good kind people. But there was a mob mentality forming and I found myself at the mercy of their judgement. So yes, I lied about where I was going and what I was doing. And the consequence was losing my place within the friendships I had built. I have lost people before, in more horrific ways than this. But I speak of this occasion because it marked the beginning of the person I am today.

I am flawed. I am broken. I am damaged. I am ferociously untethered to the sides of me that used to think and feel in certain ways. I do not believe that the way I was ostracised was done with complete and unfaultering malice. We are taught so early on to value our loved ones, to treat them with love and respect. And now more than ever there is this world on show where you must have all the pretty little things. The best of the best. When there is a crack in the mug, do you glue it back on or throw away the mug and buy a new one? Society is disposable, as are people if they do not fit the criteria. This damaged, broken and flawed version of myself no longer fot the criteria and my own behaviour was used as the catalyst. And I do not blame them. We all want the cogs of our lives to keep turning in accordance to how they should, and if there is one kink in the cogs it must be removed. I have amassed a life of broken cogs, and all our faults and imperfections keep turning and turning and turning and sometimes we turn so much we make the bumps smooth again. These days I only allow broken cogs around me. They are beautiful and accepting and irrepressibly a joy to be around. They remind me that I was never alone, I was never abandoned. I was given up by something which wasn't meant for me and pushed towards the path I was meant to be on. I had to lose all those people. I had to leave my marriage. I had to know how it felt to literally have nothing. So that when the man I love came along I would know that he was the person I'm meant to be with for good. And I would appreciate his kindness and his sacrifices and his love without question. And the friends I had seldomly gathered along the way would be as equally broken and unsure of their worth so that when I began to wonder if they would abandon me too I knew that it didn't matter because we're not here to create a picture perfect group of people we are all capable of lies, of debauchery, and falling apart. I practice the art of attachment quite loosely these days. I try to love people without the dependance love can bring. Its quite spectacular. And whilst I see Kat and the others still in this circle of things which possibly do make them happy, it is no longer my truth. Designer handbags do not excite me. Nor do drunken fights outside pubs or whose relationship is falling apart. Conversations about green grass on a wednesday morning with a cigarette in my hand, and laughing  because I said the wrong word in a sentence. Even if the anxiety is telling me I'm stupid, at least anxiety is speaking to them too and we're all pulling oars in the same boat.

Stay with me.