My Own Best Friend

Sometimes when people talk about their very best friends I feel sad. I mean, let’s face facts here, my last long-term ‘friend relationship’ didn’t end well.

That’s not to say I haven’t had long beautiful ones since then but that experience taught me that in some cases labels are not a good thing. When I think back, I might as well have been wearing a badge saying “Hello, my name is Christa ~ property of xxx”.

Being a best friend became a job in some respects, part~stand up comic (performing monkey), part~cleaner (on account of all the damage done to others) and it wasn’t fun or healthy for either of us in the end.

So the last five years have been a period of reflection. I’ve talked about it before and two years later it’s still on my mind. I love my friends dearly but when it comes to best friend-dom, to pure exclusivity, to I am yours/you are mine alone ownership – I don’t think I’ll ever have that again.

I’m close with Panda, who surely understands where I’m coming from as she’s been there with me through most of it. And there’s David, who’s millions of miles away in distance only and one of my most favourite human beings on this earth. There are my girls; the greatest individuals you could imagine.

There’s no room in my life for jealousy or possession anymore, I want people to be around me because they want to be and because they think I’m fun, not because they own me. My friends are all my best friends now, as I am to myself.

Learning to be your own best friend is fun too. It’s about learning what you’re worth, listening to your body and mind, giving yourself a break and treating yourself with the utmost kindness.

It’s about buying yourself that soft sweater, taking yourself for coffee and soaking in the tub. It’s about knowing when you need help and learning how to ask for it.

I am mine, after all ~ better make this relationship count ❤

Advertisements