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Monday, July 29, 2013


This true story post is extra so it can be entered in Hazel's True Story Site.  My continued story will follow soon.

Best Friends
courtesy Photobucket.
Can you remember who was - - or now is your best friend?

Usually we don’t think about why they are our friends, it’s just a case of simpatico, a connection, and a comfort zone where trust is assumed and expected.

The teenage years could be called the trauma years for the teens experience trauma weekly.  
In order to be accepted they have to be vulnerable and receptive to a great deal of idiocy.  
Their lack of experience (the best teacher) causes them to depend on their, “Know nothing” peers.

I can still remember some of the expert advice and information I received from some of my friends. 
Even now I empathize with their ignorance. They would look extremely proud as they explained the facts of life to the uninitiated.

Love and hate was flying in all directions, as each week some girl or boy was dumped and left broken hearted.

Then the phenomena of the support groups would take place. 

Last weeks darling was this weeks Ba - - - - (illegitimate child) and all would join the “I the hate fest.

The kid whose parents were getting a divorce; their feelings would run the whole gamut of emotions.  The one thing they thought could be depended on, no longer existed. 

Next “enter” the new step dad or mom.  Being put upon to look down inside and find some unused love to heap on the new step parent is enough to cause one to join “Trauma anonymous.”

Then the worst one of all, your best friend, one you would die for, betrays you.  You have shared all your secrets with them, your very inner being has been exposed to them, and now the one you trusted has turned on you.  It is an act of treason.

This is the one you never get over, years later the pain is still there.

While many friends fall by the wayside, there are a precious few that last for a lifetime. They will number three or four at most but they are like pure gold.  

I don’t know how any of us made it through those traumatic years but here we are battered but not bowed.  Wounded and scarred but you wouldn’t have wanted to miss any of it, because those years made you what you are today - - A survivor

This post is shared at: Tell Me a Story


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