I’m not a stranger to rejection. I don’t think anyone is…maybe everyone just deals with it differently. The last year was by far the most challenging of my life. I hurt more, cried more, felt all the things, and grew more than I ever imagined. Trauma tried to complete break me down and in some ways it did. I picked myself up and started over more times than I can count.

I felt like a failure at work no matter how hard I tried to get back to a place where I truly enjoyed what I did. I felt like no one truly had my back or could understand what I was going through. But how could they when I didn’t even understand what I was going through? I felt like a failure in my marriage and I dreaded being anywhere besides my bed (where I got very little time to even sleep between working nights and homeschooling four kids during the day). The only constant that I had in my life was my best friend. I thought she’d always be there. She was my person that I searched my whole life to find. She was the person that I wanted to be when I grew up. We went through pregnancy together, a toxic work environment together, Home Goods trips when we felt like we were about to break. We were neighbors, our kids were best friends, we went on vacations and lake trips together. Some of my best memories include planning our toddlers’ weddings, suffering through our little girls’ dance classes on no sleep after working all night. But we were in it together.

When I knew that my marriage was over but couldn’t admit it to myself, she picked me up more times than I could count. I couldn’t imagine a life that didn’t include planning birthday parties or a world where we didn’t wish each other’s kids Happy Birthday. I still can’t wrap my head around never having another pool day in the backyard with mimosas.

Losing someone who is still here was one of the hardest things I’ve ever gone through. I’ve cried more tears at night over the loss of that relationship than I did when it finally sank in that my husband cared more about controlling me than saving our house or our family. I’m still angry that she couldn’t even have the decency of letting my kids say goodbye to their best friends before moving across the country.

I’m angry that she couldn’t support me in doing what was best for my children when I would have walked through fire for her. I’m so angry that she knew how panicked, how hurt, how scared, how broken I felt because she was the one person I opened up enough to to share those feelings and she couldn’t even give me a reason. She just ghosted me like you do someone who you have no emotional attachment to at all. I’m angry at myself for still wanting to reach out for answers after months of being ignored. I’m angry at myself for being angry. I hate that in giving so much of myself to other people I completely lost myself.

At the end of the day, the biggest loss of my life taught me that you have to love yourself. You have to believe in yourself enough to pick back up on the hard days. You have to find strength in who you are but to do that you have to know who you are without any labels. I could try to word this better and add in some bullshit about a beautiful tomorrow but the truth is that tomorrow isn’t promised. There is beauty in breaking but it hurts like hell. That’s the truth. It hurts like fucking hell.

As a mom of four, I’ve seen, heard and experienced alot of different cries. Some tears flow freely. But the ones that don’t come with alot of sting. The tears you try your hardest to hide from the world are the ones hurt the worst. Let it out. Don’t hold that shit in. Breathe. And move on. No matter how much you wanted them to want you…if they can’t at least respect you enough to give you an answer…they aren’t worth your time.

One thing that I’ve learned from suffering from PTSD is that you deal with trauma at some point or another. You don’t walk away completely unscathed. It might be something silly like a trip to Home Goods by yourself where you break down looking at Rae Dunn coffee mugs because it was much more fun with your best friend. It may be working in Seattle thinking about Grey’s Anatomy and realizing you don’t have anyone to discuss it with anymore. It might be a phone call from a complete stranger who is mentally disturbed a year after the worst moments of your life were broadcast on national television reminding you that you still don’t have answers. Triggers are different for everyone. But since I can’t avoid the pain, I’m choosing to move on the only way that I know how.

I’m choosing to forgive. I’m choosing to accept that I feel things and that’s okay. I’m choosing to keep the happy memories and hope that one day maybe my tears will be the ones that flow freely. I forgive myself for making excuses for someone who could have sent a simple text message. I’m vowing to try and be better at communicating my feelings even when it’s hard because I don’t want to hurt anyone else. I’m choosing to accept that just because I want something to be okay doesn’t mean that it is. We are all human and at the end of the day the basic rules, wants, and needs are the same. We don’t know what the hell we feel sometimes. At others we think we have it down to a science but we aren’t even close. We need interaction but fear getting close to anyone.

I don’t regret any of it. The world hasn’t hardened me yet and I still love her deeply. And I’m proud of myself for trying to fix what I broke even when she wouldn’t give me an answer. Forgiveness isn’t always for the other person. It’s so that we can pick up the broken pieces and try to put them back together again. Things will never be the same. I know that…I didn’t always, though. I used to fight so hard to avoid change. But I think I’m on to something. I don’t know what that is yet but I’m a hell of a lot closer than I was yesterday.