Better choose wisely

Hello, lovelies. 

       Friends come it all wonderful shapes and sizes. Some of us have vast friend groups, whilst others can count on a very select few to be there for us when the going gets tough. We have our BBF’s, our long distant friends, fair weather friends, and those friends that are wolves dressed up in sheep’s clothing that will happily stab us in the back at any given moment. And then there are those friends who actually run towards us when things start to fall to pieces. But what makes a good friend? Are we ourselves a good friend to others? Or are we only good friends when we get something out of the friendship? How important are friends in our lives? They say that no person is an island, but aren’t we better off being alone than surrounded by our disingenuous friends? And if they are so important, we better make sure that we choose them wisely. 

         I have the amazing ability to see only the very best in people, even when they really don’t deserve it. It would be very fair to say that throughout my lifetime, I haven’t always surrounded myself with nice and true friends. And the truth be told, I have been hurt and abused by more than a few of them. It’s true to say that they didn’t start out as mean and unkind, but as the years wore on, I began to see that those friends would criticise, belittle and throw me under the first available bus at the slightest provocation. And it’s only now that I am beginning to see the real importance of choosing who I surround myself with. But why am I this way? Why was I unable to see those friends that truly had my back over those who would say all the right things, but would turn on me over some slight or preserved snub? Does it make me naïve and gullible? Am I too trusting and not grown up enough to see who is real and who isn’t? How is anyone able to know who is a good friend and who should be removed from our friends list? 

      Growing up, I, like so many of us, was painfully shy. I grew up in a wonderfully eclectic household. My mother ran a theatre company, so there was always a mix of highly talented professional actors, singers and all-round performers. Back stage crew, set and prop makers, mask makers and puppeteers. The list goes on and on of all the amazing people that I grew up with. What a wonderful childhood I had, and it would be an easy and quick to assume that I swam like a swan through this wonderful world I was living in. But being surrounded by such talent and professionalism was hard. Should an untrained child compete and compare themselves to adults that had trained for years to be where they were? No. But I did. It was almost impossible not to. So I grew up knowing that I was always going to be second best. Never quite good enough to be around the really talented people. And that shaped how I valued myself and clouded my view on how I could expect people to treat me. If I wasn’t as good or as pretty or as valuable as the other people, why should I stand up for myself when I was the butt of all the jokes. The punch line for the belittling. The person who put up with all the bullying, just so I could say that I had a place at the table of life.

      Of course, my childhood wasn’t all bad. I travelled across Britain, performing at so many theatres that I can hardly remember them all. But the damage had been done. I saw the very best in everyone, only to be devastated when they turned on me. But by not placing the blame at the feet of those who wronged me and by holding on to the negativity they laid on my shoulders was a hard thing to bear through my teenage years and beyond. So slowly over the years I have begun to cut out all those ‘so called’ friends who only brought the drama and saga. And that has whittled down my friendship group to only a handful of people. 

        But then this life changing event happened ten weeks ago, and I truly saw who my real friends were. It was such a small thing, but everything about my life has changed. It all came down to me falling up a flight of stairs. Hardly noteworthy, but without that, then my life would have been dramatically shortened. I was at my favourite place in the whole world, at the New Wimbledon theatre. It is my second home. I had managed to get some tickets to watch School of Rock, and just as the show was about to start, my 16 year old son was running late to join us. With only minutes to spare he arrived at the theatre and we climbed the two flights of stairs to our seats. Now, these staircases I have walked thousands of times, but this time I caught my boot on the lip of the stair and fell in the most un-lady like fashion. That was it. That was all it took for my whole life to change. Okay, so it didn’t happen that day. But three days later. It started off as a pain in my ribs. But as the day wore on, I found that I couldn’t handle the pain. Even breathing would send a ringing spasm of pain through my entire body. But what to do? I was at work at the time, and all I really wanted to do was to go home and try to sleep it off. But under advice of my employer, I made my way to one of my best friend’s home. Thinking that she would take pity on me and feed me before sending me home, she insisted that we took a trip to A&E. To say that I didn’t want to go was an understatement. But she insisted. She managed to get me into her car, drove me to the hospital and sat with me for sixteen hours as we waited for all the tests. 

        By about 4am, I had managed to fall asleep, when a doctor woke me up and asked me how long I had had my mass. My massive cyst. And by massive, I mean 25 cm by 10 cm that sat all snugly in my tummy and attached to my ovaries. I sat up, threw up and stared at my friend. She came with me to every fast track appointment. The CT scans, the endless blood tests. And she was there at 6.30am on the morning that I was admitted to the Royal Marsden Hospital in Kensington for my radical hysterectomy and cyst removal. She was there when I woke up. Translated all the doctor speak. And even brushed my hair when I was awake enough to know it hadn’t had a brush to it for three days. She even made two types of brownies for all the nurses on the ward. They absolutely loved her. She put her own life on hold to make sure that I wasn’t alone. 

        My other bestie, lord, she can make me laugh like no one else. She brought me so many bottles of fizzy water, knowing that I can only drink that, as who can bear flat water. She was so supportive both financially and emotionally. They both ran towards me when my life fell to pieces. They showed me that I wasn’t alone. They both want to be there for me when I work my way through six rounds of aggressive chemo. One has even said that she will shave her head so that I wouldn’t be alone as all my hair falls out. 

       But do I deserve such amazing friends? I always thought that to deserve friendship, love or happiness there had to be a price for it. With so many people that I had called my friends, there was always a cost to everything they did with and for me. I could never ask my ex-husband for anything, because I could never repay him. And I don’t mean in terms of money. Even asking him to take out the rubbish bin, would lead to a temper tantrum and shouting at me. Asking him to look after his children for an evening while I went to work would lead to massive arguments, gaslighting and manipulation that could last for days if not weeks. So I learnt that I really didn’t deserve anything. But with my life in such a different place from where I thought it would be, I can finally see that we all do deserve happiness and good friends. Is it time for us all to take a good long hard look at the people around us? Are they true friends? Or is it time to find out who are real friends are!

 

I allowed undeserving people into my life because I never felt good enough to say no to them. I let them walk all over me in the name of friendship, just so that I wouldn’t be left all alone. But what is so wrong with being alone? Nothing. And it may have taken a life changing event for me to realise that there are people in the world that are true friends. Friends that are there for the bad times and not just good. And I want to be that kind of friend for others.