4 Lessons My Ex-Best Friend Taught Me About Life, Love and Tea

My ex-best friend used to be like an older sister to me. Every single time I came to her with a problem, she started spitting out deep wisdom that came out of nowhere, surprising both of us. These monologues often provided me with useful advice and made me feel inspired, relaxed and glad to have such a good friend.

She never failed to teach me a great deal about life, love, myself and Doctor Who.

Our 10-year friendship didn’t end on a good note. It was actually pretty horrible. I always hold on to my anger for a long time, and by that, I mean years. Unsurprisingly, I’ve been consumed by a lot of subtle, yet long-lasting rage for the last couple of weeks. I haven’t really been able to get her out of my mind.

I suppose you can’t get over a 10-year relationship in three months. If you’re me, anyway.

What’s worse, it seems like I’ve forgotten everything and anything good about our friendship. “We were friends for a reason,” I tell myself as I wreck my brain trying to dig out at least ten wonderful memories, only to have them all clouded by the not-so-nice stuff.

Turns out, my brain is great at remembering only what’s in accordance with my current emotions. Those manipulative feelings have a hold of me.

And let me tell you, I’m not here for it.

I won’t have it.

I had a best friend for 10 years. I’m 21 now, so that’s basically the whole part of my life I can clearly remember. There’s no way I’m going to let my brain forget how wonderful it was to have a friend, even when it didn’t end well.

Here are 4 beautiful things my ex-best friend taught me about life, love and everything in-between.

Blood does not make family

She wasn’t just my best friend.

We were both very firm on the fact that we were a family. For better or for worse, we’d be there for each other until our hair turns grey. We’d know each other’s children, see each other regularly and, of course, we’d be Maids of Honour for one another.

As we grew up, our dreams and goals changed — but this one didn’t. Her friendship was such a constant certainty to me that I never had to worry about it. She knew me better than my parents or my sister, better than anyone.

Through this friendship, I’ve learned that blood truly does not make family. My extended family doesn’t mean much to me — we don’t see each other, and we don’t even bother to send out birthday cards. My cousin recently gave birth to twins, and as cute as they are, they feel very foreign to me. They’re from a different world, the world of strangers.

My best friend’s children, though, would always hold a special place in my heart. She’d be the one I’d choose right after my children and my husband (okay, and my mum). Always. Know those hypothetical scenarios where you’re wondering who you’d save first in the case of a fire?

Well, she’d be up there. Even now, when we don’t speak anymore, she’d still be up there. When I’m particularly angry, I’d like to think that she wouldn’t be, that I don’t care about her anymore, that she hurt me and I’m done with her, no matter what happens.

But that’s not how family works, is it? You don’t need blood to feel chained to someone, chained in the best way possible. And even if you don’t speak to each other for the rest of your life, 10 years is not a short time, especially when most of it comprises of your teenage years.

Family is about growing up together or building a life with one another. To some extent, we did both. And no matter how hard my anger tries to break those chains, they hold firm.

You choose your own family. And you’re responsible for it. It’s the greatest burden and joy to have ever experienced.

Life is never going to be perfect

“It seems to me like you think that as soon as you have the job you want, the house you want, the life you want, you’ll be always happy. But that’s not how life is, not really.”

We were sitting on her bed after I had complained to her about being dissatisfied with my life. “There are always going to be things you don’t enjoy,” she told me. “Even when you love doing something, there’ll be one part about it that’s kind of meh.”

I know this might sound obvious, but it literally stopped me in my tracks. I never thought about it this way. I loved day-dreaming, losing myself in the perfect idea of a future where everything would be cool like a cucumber, shiny like the most beautiful summer day and filled with smiley faces as soon as you wake up. Not to mention the great outfits I’d wear.

(I still daydream about those, by the way.)

She told me life would always be a bit of a yay, a bit of a meh. I’d never be forever happy or forever sad. Even with the perfect job and the most wonderful family, I’d still have days when I struggle to get out of bed. I’d still have to force myself to sit down and work. I’d still feel unproductive sometimes, no matter how well I’d set the scene.

This advice grounded me in reality like very few things have done before. I realised that I should be grateful for the present instead of just picturing my bright future — because the future would turn into the present soon, and all the shiny colours would transform into a somewhat in-between shade.

And that shade is what life is all about. Appreciate its shiny parts. Accept the dark ones. Be grateful for the middle way.

Most of all, be grateful for friends who tell you the truth and help you shift your mindset in a positive way.

Real connections don’t fade away

More than one half of our friendship was basically conducted online. We’ve had more midnight heartfelt conversations than I could count. In those 10 years, we often didn’t speak for months, only to find our paths back to each other again.

When we weren’t in contact for some time and then met up, it felt as if no time had passed. Honestly, it took only a few minutes for us to be passionately discussing all those hobbies that connected us, and to confide in each other with our deepest secrets.

Time was no obstacle because we just clicked. We understood each other like nobody else, and for this reason, we were each other’s soulmates.

Real connections don’t just fade away if you stop being in contact for a bit. Life can get in the way, and that should be okay. Friendships are often not as much about regular contact as they’re about having someone to count on, someone who understands you in a way no one else does.

The non-complexity of friendships like this is what makes them so very beautiful.

What about the tea?

Yes, what about it?

Well, my ex-friend loves tea. Tea is her cup of tea, if you pardon my awkward humour, and if there’s something important this has taught me, it’s that making your friend a cup of tea makes a great difference.

In friendships, you can’t rely on cuddles, sex and baby talk to express your appreciation. Often, it’s the things you do for them that matter the most.

The least you can do is make them a cup of tea from time to time. They’ll appreciate it a great deal, as my ex-best friend did.

Small actions like these can go a long way.

When you’ve been friends with someone for so many years, you carry their imprint with you forever. My friend has inevitably impacted how I think, act and am.

Even nowadays, I still find myself recognising patterns in my behaviour. When I speak, my voice puts emphasis on the same words hers would. In my discussions, I frame topics in a broader scope, including areas she has introduced me to over the years. I have a feeling like I’d recognise her writing style among samples of hundreds.

Most of the things that have happened in my life have had something to do with her. I am who I am because I became friends with her on 18th June 2010.

I chose her as my family then, and even if our life paths get more and more distant as time goes on, she will always be my family, even if only partly. Because family is not something you can just scrape off your biography.

Even when you’re angry.

This article was originally published on Medium.