Bad Day

Author's note: I wrote this last week, but it's just as meaningful now as it was when I wrote it. And today I want to be reminded of the fact that we can do this, because we're us. And we can get through anything together.

She storms back into the house, seething. Worn down to her breaking point by a long day, a busy week, and an exhausting month; an encounter with stoned teenagers and a misbehaving dog has finally sent her over the edge tonight. As she throws herself down on the couch, her eyes staring determinedly forward at the television, I look over at her tentatively.

“You want another glass of champagne?” I ask calmly.

Her shoulders drop the slightest bit and she lets out a small sigh. “Yes, I would definitely like another glass,” she responds and I can hear the tension leaving her voice.

So I go and pour her one and when I hand it to her, I lean over and kiss her shoulder teasingly. She laughs. We turn on the movie and begin to animatedly mock the wardrobes of the actors. Things are better.

This is the real reason I planned on coming home this weekend. Last week when she called me I could hear the desperation in her voice. And these past few weeks have been so much harder on me than I’ve been able to admit. We’ve needed each other, but we haven’t been able to be there for each other as much as we should.

So this morning, I climbed into the passenger seat of her car, pull my knees up to my chest, lean my head back. And as she pulls into the drive-thru at our favorite fast food restaurant, I finally pour out the darkness that I’ve been keeping to myself for the past few weeks.

“Things have been really hard this month and I don’t know why,” I say, trying to keep my voice from trembling. “It’s just been really, really hard, for no real reason. I’m so exhausted. I’ve been so depressed lately and I can’t blame it on any one thing.”

“I’ve been feeling the exact same way,” she says. “It’s just been a really terrible month, but not for any particular reason.”

We go back and forth, catching each other up on the big things and the little things, and generally just letting ourselves go a little bit. Neither of us have to hold it all in anymore; neither of us have to hold it together. So I take a deep breath and tell her the one thing that’s been the most on my mind recently. The thing that I’ve been too scared to admit out loud to anyone yet.

“My anxiety’s been getting worse and worse lately,” I say quietly. “It keeps amplifying and sooner or later it’s going to get to a point where I know I won’t be able to handle it on my own. There is going to come a point where I need medication for this and that scares the hell out of me.”

She nods. There’s nothing she needs to say, but I know she understands.

Because she’s Best Friend. My Best Friend. She is my best friend but most importantly she is the voice I can hear more clearly than my own but I still want to hear. For over five years now, we have been telling each other every insipid thought that comes into either one of our heads and we aren't tired of listening to each other yet.

“I wish I liked anyone as much as you two like each other!” a mutual friend once told us. We grinned and shared a glance of best friend championship.

I know our relationship is unconventional. We over-share an exceptional amount, but there are a few topics that we respectfully stay away from, for reasons that only the two of us understand. We have millions of inside jokes and we remember the most benign of details about EVERYTHING. We talk constantly, even when we’re in different countries, and we’ve always been able to make our friendship work even if the two of us are in different places. We are twins in many respects but vastly different in others.

But as unconventional as we are, it works for us. I would call her my other half but that wouldn’t be fair. Because we are us. The two of us combined are so much greater than the sum of she and me.

I never doubt her. I never worry about where she is; she is right beside me. She never worries about putting on the appropriate act with me; she knows I’ll listen to anything she needs to say. I never question or second-guess myself when I am with her. She’s able to let down her guard with me, relax a little more, and remember that sometimes it’s okay for things not to be okay. I let her rationalize experiences down to the bare bones and then remind her to take a minute to think about how she feels. She lets me scream and rage and cry, and then tells me to take a deep breath and a step back. And then together we goof and analyze, tease and discuss, always reveling in the appreciation of our togetherness.

We’ve had our moments of weakness. Times when we hurt or disregarded each other. We don’t really like to talk about those times. But they did happen, and thankfully they’ve only made us stronger. When they do come up in conversation, they’re just a precursor to our acknowledgement of what we learned from them.

I am so lucky to have her as my best friend. Through the good and the bad times, we’ve been able to support each other, to let each other know that we are Not Alone. Because together we can laugh or cry, do anything and feeling anything we fucking want, because we have each other.

And on days like these, a day when the scary things were too much to keep inside, I knew that she was the one I needed to tell and she was the one who would want to listen.