I have a lot of issues- that goes without saying. But one that has made me the saddest is the difficulty I have with truly bonding with people... Thanks, HCloud, for pointing that out. Most people would be surprised to know how hard it is for me to make friends- possibly because I define friendship as a relationship that has a deeper meaning than just hanging out with and enjoying someone's company- but the relationships that I treasure so much are a constant struggle for me. I'm in a perpetual struggle to force myself to relax and allow myself to care about people. I've been hurt so deeply by friends that I thought I could trust. Even now, the true friends I know that I have are on thin ice with me- not because of anything they've done necessarily, but because I expect near perfection from them. Any small slip and I think, well, I knew that was coming. I knew you'd fail me, I knew you'd betray me. Good try and nice knowing you.
I remember that I've twice promised myself I would never have a sole best friend again. The first time after the long and painful end of a highly dysfunctional and codependent relationship, the second time after a betrayal that I didn't see coming. I vowed that I would never again put all my eggs in one basket and would never again trust any one person completely.
I know God laughs every time I make these unbreakable vows.
I just spent the weekend with my best friend, Bess. Bess isn't my best friend because she's perfect or has never failed me or never annoys me. Bess is my best friend because she makes me laugh and she laughs at me, because she can tell me things and wants to hear about my things, because she loves me and I love her. Because I trust Bess. And what I've realized is that I decided to trust Bess, against all my better judgment, and have trusted her for a long time now. I didn't trust her because empirically she deserved it- she's human and therefore flawed. But she has proven to be trustworthy as any of us can be and I have given her my trust. No one forced me- I jumped.
This weekend, we went to museums and ate and giggled and cried and made dinner and watched movies. But the moment that I knew that whether I had decided never to have a best friend again or not, I had one, was when we went for a walk in the snow. We had my aunts dogs with us and they walk at different paces, so Bess was ahead of me the whole time. We were both listening to our iPods and we weren't talking or interacting. But when we came to the end of the street, Bess waited for me to catch up. We stood looking around at the snow. I was listening to "Mr. Blue Sky"- I don't know what she was listening to, but it was something with a beat. We stood there for a few moments and then made eye contact. Without missing a step, we both started dancing little silly half-dances, right there in the middle of the snowy street. And then we turned around and walked back, not at the same pace, but still together. I haven't felt that comfortable in a long time. And with all the tumult, I need some comfort, and I think Bess does, too. He's a smart Guy, that God. And I'm glad of that.