A Bad, Terrible, Awful Person

Once upon a time, there was a little girl with practically zero social skills—even for a five-year-old. She believed right was right, wrong was wrong, and teacher should always be told what happened—even if it made the other kids glare at her.

This little girl spent a lot of time smacking into invisible social walls that quickly sprouted barbs and spikes. There were a few kids her age who liked her, but not many, and she tended to obsess on the ones that didn't. She had to figure out why they didn't like her and fix it—fix herself. Problem is, she never could bend quite enough, so she compromised by becoming extremely quiet.

That did not save her from the barbs. She figured out how to stop running into the spikes, but now they reached into her space to prick her from time to time, no matter how small she made herself.

That little girl grew desperate to hold onto people. She latched on the second anyone showed her attention. She tried not to have conflicting opinions. She tried to say yes to anything that didn't cross the inflexible lines drawn in her soul. She advertised that loyalty was a standard only she had to bear—not the other person.

When I was a child, I thought like a child. I reasoned like a child. But when I grew up, I carried far too many childish things with me. And it has taken far too long to begin setting them down.

If I could go back and sit with five-year-old Dusty, curled up in the corner in a pretty little dress, her fists clenched and face tear-streaked because of some new injustice—ranging from being called "Rusty" to being disowned by a friend in front of cooler people—I would take her face in my hands. I would wipe those tears. And this is what I would tell her.

"Not all friends are really friends, and it's okay to stop chasing them and begging them to take you back.

"When someone doesn't like you, it's okay to stop chasing them. If they don't like you, you should think a little bit about why, but you shouldn't think it's because you're a bad, terrible, awful person. Sometimes people are not going to like you for reasons you'll never understand.

"Sometimes you make friends for a few months. Sometimes for a few years. It's very, very rare to make forever friends, and not every person you make friends with is a forever friend. That's okay. You need to learn to let go when they leave. A friendship fading also doesn't mean you're a bad, terrible, awful person.

"Sometimes you need to be the one to say, 'No. I'm done. Don't talk to me anymore.' And you'll need to mean it and walk away, because it is not okay to be treated like a bad, terrible, awful person by someone close to you. It isn't okay to be lied to or humiliated or made to cry every day by those people. That isn't friendship. That isn't love.

"Sometimes a friend will walk away from you. You should think about why it was for a little bit, and if you did something wrong, take more care about that in the future. But if you didn't do anything wrong, cry for a while and let them go. It doesn't make you a bad, terrible, awful person that they walked away.

"It's okay if you don't have the right words to give to people. You have other gifts in friendship. Not having the right words doesn't make you a bad, terrible, awful person.

"You're going to make mistakes. You're going to hurt people because you didn't know how to say the truth with love. You're going to value the wrong people when the right ones want your attention. You let friendships slip through your fingers when you're too exhausted or frightened or confused about the rules to reach out. You don't always know what to say, or how to say it, and you go silent or you say the wrong thing, and it all goes wrong sometimes. You need to know, you are not a bad, terrible, awful person. You'll learn, and you'll hurt people less over time, because you keep trying. Please, forgive yourself more."

Then I'd pull her into my arms and say, "It's going to take a very long time. But. Someday you're going to wake up and stop thinking you're a bad, terrible, awful person and realize you're somebody you wish you could be friends with."

As of last week, I'm 98% certain that I just lost another friend. I'm a little better at reading social cues than I used to be, and I see signs in our communication that I would formerly have bulled straight past. All the cues I'm looking at say I want to walk away quietly and leave you with the dignity of not rejecting you outright. It stings. I looked at the situation backwards and forwards, self-flagellation at the ready—but I did nothing wrong.

So, I take this friendship and set it aside. It was good and bright and nourishing while it lasted. If it did not survive, that is sad. But it was there for a season. And that is good.

Lord, grant me the serenity to
Accept the things I cannot change
The courage to change the things I can
And the wisdom to know the difference.