Loose lips with no best friend.

The onion. I remember my high school health teacher lecturing about relationships and how we were the center of the onion and that the next layer, the closest person or people to you at the core, would vary depending on your stage in life. When you are a little kid, it is your parents. School aged, friends. Young adult, romantic partner…and so on.

I remember being annoyed when she said this, as I was always bothered when an adult would tell me what was going on with me, as if it was some sort of cold, scientific fact. My mom would often say, you’re just going through a phase. That always made my head want to pop off. She was usually right, of course, but just like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, I had to figure it out myself. My feelings were way too intense and labeling them a phase didn’t diminish them in any way. Oh, it’s just a phase? Oh! Okay, well I am just going to tuck that problem away and not worry about it anymore. Gee, I feel so much better now, thanks.

The truth of the matter is that, even though it may be a phase, there is nothing more important than having friends when you are in school. Nothing. I was always a “best friend” kind of girl. I just wanted one person that I could have a sleepover with, dancing to routines and talking late into the night about every person I thought was cute or who was annoying me or what wasn’t fair. She always gets to be Mary in the school pageant! Why don’t they let anyone else do it? Yeah, I know, like, you’re not really supposed to be so obvious that you have favorites. Whatever heartache or longing I had was validated, we both shared the burden together, united against the world.

Sometimes, I had a best friend, and it was great. That would be a luxury I couldn’t always count on, though, because we moved every few years. There were places where I just couldn’t find one. When that happened, I would somehow manage to attach myself to a small group of friends and who was closer to whom, changed all the time. It was these times that were dangerous for me. I’d let a judgy observation slip, hoping it would bring me closer, only to have my admission revealed. That was so mean that she told Mark that you used to write his name in cursive in your diary. I thought it would be safe to say and clearly demonstrate to the other person that I was on their side. She would be sure to agree, I thought, bringing us closer together. But that didn’t happen. Many, many times.

The truth was, I was taking a risk, putting my observation out there and judging someone’s motives. I may have thought it was a fair and accurate observation, but the person who I was saying it to didn’t fully trust me. Or they were used to the other person saying those types of things and weren’t really bothered by it like I would be. Or they were afraid of the other person and wanted to earn points by divulging what I said, showing loyalty.

Usually, the fallout from my oversharing would be that I had periods of time where I had no friends that trusted me. These were lonely, insecure times. It took time to repair the damage. At some point, there seemed to be an opening, and I would do my best to keep to myself and limit what I said, hoping not to get in trouble again. Having some sort of belonging, even though it wasn’t at the level I wanted, was better than feeling isolated or shunned.

These were hard lessons to learn. I wish I could say that I learned them fast, but several old, faded notes prove otherwise—I had several fights, and it took repeated rounds of my inner judge popping out, to change my ways.

When I think back to it, while I know I would have preferred just having a best friend and saying any old thing that I wanted, I am really grateful for the lessons I learned in those dreadful periods when I had to be more careful about what I said. I can imagine, if I didn’t, I would have just gotten progressively more judgmental about people—cocky that how I saw the world was the absolute truth. End of story.

Having to keep things to myself taught me several things. One is that my initial judgement wasn’t always right. I might have been mistaking someone’s teasing for being mean, for example. What a better way to be, not having said the harsh observation at all and just acknowledging the new realization all in the privacy of my inner thoughts. No one was damaged in the process. I also realized I had a bad habit of pointing out how others “wronged” someone else as a way to get closer to them. Often times, I made the wronged person feel even worse by pointing this out. Hearing mean things said about you never feels good. I was being completely selfish. It forced me to look at myself and see what my part was in a wrongdoing. I learned how to apologize for my part and my part only and be okay with that.

In the end, it was better that I had a mix of both times, best friend and not. I am lucky that I have several people today I would consider to be best friends. I try my best to appreciate that I can share confidences, while doing my best to avoid being a blabbering, judgy weasel. Wish me luck.