Growing up without the comfort of genuine friendship shapes more than just your childhood; it writes itself into the lens with which you perceive and navigate the world. I have written poems about this before, but not really from the perspective of how friendships affect your changing perception of the world. As a young child, my worldview was more innocent – everyone was inherently good and capable of kindness. But as I transitioned into teenage, reality hit me with some really harsh lessons. Most of my childhood innocence was shattered through bullies in the disguise of friends. Bullies, who with their cutting words, shattered a lot of my belief system and that is exactly where I started facing one existential crisis after another. In high school, popularity is mostly just a shield for abusive people who genuinely believe that they are too cool to be kind. My friends, they successfully left loads of bruises and self-doubt within me.
Friends are protectors, right? At least that’s what I truly believe and try to live by with my current closed ones. But the friends I thought I had back then, they were far from protectors. They would rather be active contributors to my trust issues. Some of these incidents echoed loudly in my growing cynicism towards human relationships. It was through these reality kicks that I learned to judge and scan every new acquaintance, learned to keep people at bay and not let them in until they proved themselves worthy of trust. I am especially proud of my defense mechanism; after all, this has been honed over years of disappointment and hurt, that 10-year-old kid is still trying to protect herself against potential pain.
Today, as a 24-year-old woman, I find myself surrounded by a circle of friends that are very different than any I’ve known before. These amazing humans are the pillars of my support, the people who nurture me and encourage me to go beyond my capabilities. They’ve stood by me as I built my world and visions, they have helped me lift myself rather than tear me down. The path from teenage to adulthood has been hard, especially when it came to relationships outside of blood. But today, I can very proudly say that my heart melts for these relationships that I have made over the past ten years. Each one of them has helped me heal and grow through incidents of trauma and each one of them has been a part of my happiest moments in life.
But sadly, childhood scars always stay with you as silent reminders. They whisper caution to you in your moments of vulnerability. They are hazard cones of the mind, reminders that trust is not as easy to repair as to break. I’m a writer today and I try to put all my deepest, darkest feelings out there for the world to see, a display of courage. And yet, I fear of being taken advantage of, of having my reputation exploited in the form of gossip, of never knowing where I truly stand between the lines of black and white.
Embracing the joy of genuine connections is not so easy when you’re constantly safe-guarding yourself against past wounds. The promise of loyalty and support can be both a healing agent and a trigger.
Can I really believe these people who give me constant assurance that they have my back?
Or will history repeat itself, revealing that people always have a hidden agenda beneath, an agenda that’s almost always for personal gain at the cost of somebody else’s loss?
But then, what is friendship if not a chance at luck? You have a take a shot at trusting people, a chance to be courageous – to recognize that some of them will always falter, but the ones that stay will prove that you weren’t wrong in trusting them. It’s a chance at being vulnerable, risking your precious trust with others, trying to get over the shadows of doubt, if only for a moment. And for all of you out there with similar stories of ache, I tell you from personal experience – you will find worthy friendships again! And when you do, you’ll also be triggered by your past emotions; but friendships don’t work on instant cancel culture. Some days, you take a shot at people, even if history has taught you differently.
Until next time,
Ri.
