MY FRIENDS LIKE ME (AND OTHER SURPRISES)

This past weekend was my bachelorette party, and it completely changed my life. That might seem like an exaggeration (especially since people are more likely to say that about their wedding than a friends’ trip to Ojai, California), but let me explain. This weekend proved that I have been lying to myself for a long time, and it’s time to stop--for my own sake.

What have I been lying about exactly? Mostly that my friends don’t care about me and my older sister is too busy for me to be a priority in her life. I understand why my anxious brain likes to latch onto these (false) beliefs. I’ve struggled socially most of my life and have lost a lot of good friends. And my relationship with my sister, who is five years older, has had ups and downs, even if most of the downs were when I was a kid. I’ve always found it hard to shake the feeling of a little sister who is desperately vying for attention and approval. My instinct is to always assume everyone has stronger friendships and relationships than I do.

But then I had 72 hours straight of evidence that none of this is the case. My sister flew across the country to run a perfectly executed and carefully curated weekend with all my favorite activities and a large variety of me-centric games, which was basically a dream come true. It was obvious she had spent so much time and effort giving me the perfect bachelorette experience. Any notion I had that I wasn’t incredibly important to her flew out the window (and into the ocean). Then there were my friends. Everyone except one person I invited (who had to work) not only came on the trip, they came with an incredible attitude and genuine excitement for me. We played a game where people had to write down a memory with me and I had to pick who wrote which memory. It made me realize that I do have rich histories with all these people and that even if my insecurities make me question our connection, that is only happening on my end and in my brain. (Sneaky how that can happen!)

The whole time I was away, I let myself soak in the experience. I didn’t shy away from the attention, and I didn’t second guess or inhibit my behavior. It was one of those rare moments (at least for me) when I felt completely full and present. I let all the love in and I felt it build me up and restore me in ways I didn’t know were possible. I mean even my acid reflux got better! (Although doubling up on my Prilosec might have helped too.) After years spent—and maybe wasted--worried I would never find a husband or a strong enough support system, I was suddenly celebrating my upcoming wedding with 13 amazing people. (THIRTEEN! What am I? Prom Queen???) It was wild to realize that while I had spent all this time fixated on a potential, disappointing future in my head, my actions had simultaneously been building me the exact type of future I have always wanted for myself.

The only hard part comes now that I am home. While I still feel changed one day later, I know that my brain has become used to the narrative that people don’t really care and my connections aren’t strong enough. It probably won’t be enough for me to simply have this experience that proves otherwise. I am going to need to constantly remind myself of this experience, use my new memories as evidence against my doubt/insecurity, and actively change how I talk about my friendships both out loud and internally.

This, to me, is what it means to “do the work.” It’s recognizing that I was thinking a way that not only didn’t serve me but was also blatantly false, and then working with myself to change my own perception. It’s not something that happens overnight, even when you have a huge come to Jesus (or whoever) moment like I did. That breakthrough moment is crucial. But the more important part is to not let it slip away from you.

It feels a little funny to come home from the best weekend of my life with what is essentially a mental health homework assignment for myself, but the thing about change is that you often have to opt-in. Sometimes change happens in the background without us really noticing it. But more often than not it is an active choice. And given the amount of pain my friendship insecurity has caused me over the years, I am eager and willing to enter a new phase. Even if it takes some time and effort to fully get there.

Moving forward, I am going to tell myself a new story about my friendships. But I am also going to operate in them differently. I am no longer going to assume that my friends don’t want to hear from me that often or that I am “too much.” I am going to behave in these friendships the way I have always wanted to. And when those old doubts pop up, as they inevitably will, I will have 72 hours of incredible memories to push them back down.

I can’t wait to begin!

xoxo,

Allison