I once had a friend. She was my age (50-something present day, if you must know), a little awkward like me, kind, funny, and open. A truly beautiful human.  
 
I was a little suspicious of her when I first saw her, watching my 5-year-old who was flitting and dancing about the coffee shop we were patronizing. While complaining to my boyfriend, AJ, about the difficulties in finding a quality daycare center for my kiddo, I noticed her sitting alone, staring at Mac, watching just a little too long. She noticed me looking (glaring?) at her and said, “I’m sorry for staring- she is so cute and looks so much like my kiddo!” She brought out her phone and showed me a picture of her child and it was true- our kids really could have been twins! We struck up a conversation which led to her telling me how much she loved her kiddo’s preschool. We had a very pleasant conversation, after which exchanging info. I ended up enrolling Mac in the preschool, our kids became best friends, and that other mom- we’ll call her Deb- became one of my absolute dearest friends.  
 
Fast forward 12 ish years. We have shared our personal selves, our mom selves, and our wife selves with one another, building a deep bond. We saw each other through our children- only 2 weeks apart in age- entering puberty and adolescence, turning from sweet, adorable little girls into strong young people, finding their way in the world, unwilling to be defined by societal expectations, and pushing back at parents, as teens do. Oh, the parenting conversations we had! Such good stuff worked out over wine, laughter and sometimes tears. Our kids weren’t our only connection- she saw me through a horrible break up and, later, a reunion (and ultimately marriage) with AJ, and I saw her through some major depressive episodes. We rented a cabin each year in Hocking Hills for the kids’ birthdays together. Her husband was like a brother to me, and her child was almost as dear to me as my own. She was my “in case of emergency”. She was my family.  

One of the most important aspects of our friendship to me was the honesty and openness we shared. As a neurodivergent brain with mental health issues, I appreciated a friend I didn’t have to mask with or hide parts of myself from. I believe she felt the same about me- her own mental health issues included self-injurious behavior that left scars on her body. She knew she never had to hide her scars with me, and I was the person she’d call when she was at her lowest and felt compelled to injure herself.  

So, it was a shocking, devastating blow when our friendship came to an abrupt end. I thought our relationship was solid, something that would outlast time itself. We were bonded by love, our children, our values, our history together… I was ME around her- weird, awkward, honest, messy, vulnerable- and it was ok! She often voiced how much she valued being able to be herself around me, as well. She saw the best and worst of me and I, her. And we loved one another unconditionally.  

Or so I thought.  

In an ugly, awful, horrible, rotten way, I found out Deb was not the friend I thought she was. In a series of nasty texts and then an in-person confrontation, she showed me unkindness as deep and cutting as the love previously given had been profound and inspiriting. The Final Confrontation occurred outside the very coffee shop we first met. I’d agreed to meet her there to try to work out the problem. She was trying to control my behavior, making demands I could not agree to. Her voice was rising, and the tension was elevating very quickly. I tried to de-escalate the situation, putting my hand on hers and saying, “Deb, friend, please…” She jerked her hand back and didn’t allow me to finish, yelling at me, “Stop using Jen Speak! I hate it! That’s what I call it- JEN SPEAK.” And then in a mocking tone, she mimicked my words. “My FRIEND, blah blah blah. Oh Dearest, blah blah blah.” in a high-pitched, mocking voice.  

Wait, what? She had a name for how I talked?! And made fun of me for it?  

<pause here for a flashback to middle school playground confrontations with the school bully>  

My shock was deep, but not nearly so deep as the pain of being castigated for who I was. It was a major trigger imbedded in my soul after a lifetime of twisting myself to try to fit into a world not made for me. I learned at a very young age that who I was wasn’t acceptable- not if I wanted to be loved. And I so desperately wanted to feel loved! Mocked and teased for being different by my peers and feeling like a constant disappointment to the adults in my life made me a people pleaser with no clue who I really was. My entire childhood and early adulthood were spent desperately seeking acceptance of who I was- a person I didn’t even know- from others and bending myself to others’ will simply to avoid conflict.  

I’d avoid conflict at almost any cost; the trepidation brought on even thinking about a conflict with a loved one immobilizes me. But conflict is inevitable when setting up boundaries, as I found myself doing in my quest to know and love myself- a quest that didn’t come easily! It entailed years of painful therapy, a great deal of self-reflection, trying to essentially re-wire my brain, and just a lot of hard mental work.,. To be mocked for my hard-earned authenticity from someone I loved and trusted so deeply was beyond devastating.  

I chose myself that day, walking away from this woman I cherished so much. It hurt deeply, but staying in a relationship with someone capable of being intentionally cruel was not an option. I struggled with feeling like I didn’t know this person at all, that our relationship was a lie.  

It’s taken me several months to realize something, though- she hadn’t been lying about who she was prior to these traumatizing events; I saw the real Deb our entire friendship, just not all of her. As I look around my home and see markings of our friendship- a piece of artwork she made specifically for me, photos, matching hoodies, and so many memories woven into the fabric of my life- I’ve realized that all the good we shared was real. And it was beautiful. This one aspect of her personality doesn’t negate the years of love, support, and solidarity, and it doesn’t erase the goodness in her heart. Because her capacity to love is matched by her capacity for unkindness, however, our story together has ended. I am at peace with that.  
 
Being at peace doesn’t mean I’m without pain. I still shed tears over this loss and I grieve a future, with those I considered my family, that is no more. But acceptance- the place from which peace derives- allows me to live life on my terms. Authentically, unapologetically, using Jen Speak.