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Finding A Soulmate

Even a best friend could change your life

By Devi JagsPublished 4 years ago 10 min read
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A New Life

She’ll never admit it to this day, but tears were hidden behind my Mom’s sunglasses as she hugged me good-bye. My sister squeezed me tight as my Dad slipped some emergency money in my pocket. As they drove away, I walked to my new room. My throat clenched tighter as I checked my watch to see when it was time to officially start my new life. I was beginning what I worked so hard for - running for a Division 1 University. The campus was quiet and bare, as only a couple students were around for the start of fall sports. I picked a dorm building that was undedicated and housed regular students, or as we athletes used to call them, N.A.R.P.S (non-athletic regular person). My high school coach said to spend time with others that were outside the Cross Country team. Additionally, the idea of college parties also piqued my interest. I was finally away from my strict parents, and any chance of gossip getting back to them was zero to none. I was on my own, I could make my own choices, and I didn’t need to fit the stereotype of the 4.0 GPA “good-girl” Cross Country runner that lived in the Honors hall with quiet hours.

I grabbed my belongings and headed to the athletic center to board the bus waiting for us. We were headed to the woods in the middle of nowhere, with people I had never met. I was shy and quiet, which was completely abnormal from my outgoing personality. All the other girls seemed like the perfect fit to the college Cross Country type, and I just felt like an outsider. But then, I met a girl named Sarah.

Meeting Sarah Billingsley

Sarah Billingsley had light brown hair, big eyes, and a squeaky voice. Not the bad kind of squeaky, but she had a blend of dorkiness and kindness about her that just made you smile. The boys on the team started calling her “Billz,” sometimes saying “Dollar Billz” or writing her name with dollar signs. At first I couldn’t even call Sarah, “Billz” because I wasn’t sure if she even liked the name or not. Sarah couldn’t participate in some of the active games because she was recovering from an injury from the previous Track season. I was also recovering from three stress fractures, and I felt better that I wasn’t the only runner coming in with expectations to perform in our collegiate running career.

As preseason training went on, the team got closer. You could differentiate which girls were going to constantly compete with each other versus the girls that were going to be good friends. But still, I felt misplaced. I talked with mostly everyone, ran with the girls I could keep up with, but no one seemed to “click” like the friends I had at home. One day, we were playing an intense game of “Spoons” that had my Coach wide-eyed, and the team roaring with laughter. The game came down to me and Sarah. Everyone finally heard how loud, energetic, and competitive I could be. They also saw the same in Sarah. With everyone watching closely, the pressure was on. But before I knew it, Coach was clearing his throat to make an announcement, my focus broken, and Sarah holding the last spoon. The table shook as she leaped and threw her fist in the air, and the boys team pounded and howled in celebration. “I WON!” she screamed, with my arguing to follow. Our celebrations were quickly shut down when Coach started speaking but I’ll never forget his face when he discovered the “dynamic duo” he had recruited.

I’m unsure why, but in the coming weeks Sarah acted as if she was shocked that I wanted to be her friend. I kept calling her Sarah to be nice and respectful, but getting to know her through the endless team lunches and dinners, the name, Billz just stuck. It was a Friday night, and the team was having their first real party. I walked back to my dorm talking with Billz about our practice and if she planned on coming that night. She seemed nervous, and hesitant to go. I’ll never forget how her eyes lit up when I asked her to come get ready and go with me. “Really?” she squealed, “you’ll let me borrow clothes, and do my makeup?” I laughed, and told her I was excited to plan an outfit for her. We were powerful walking into our first college party - her being the one that was obviously the “good girl” in high school, and me being the one that pretended to know what I was doing when I took two shots in a row. From then on, we were inseparable. We were teammates, training partners, pairs in our Marketing classes, lunch dates, study partners, best friends, and soulmates.

Becoming Soulmates

Billz and I weren’t the typical kind of ‘soulmates’ people think of when they watch movies or read books. Through a constant series of heartbreak, confusion, and loss, we found peace in our runs together. We were both sad, struggling to fight our evil monster of depression, and wondering about our purpose. Our running careers were never what we expected them to be, and we both held a certain disappointment and frustration with ourselves. One day on a run, we were relentlessly trying to push through the pain when it started to snow. The air was crisp and it was the perfect temperature for a long run. She started screaming, “do you realize how hardcore and bad ass we are?! Who runs through this like us?” I wanted to respond, “everyone else in Division 1, Billz,” but she interrupted my thought when she started rambling even more. “There has to be something greater that makes all of this so perfect.” I had no idea what she was talking about. She then explained to me how each snowflake was perfect. Perfectly detailed, and falling at the perfect pace. She described the Austrian mountains she had been to and how each view was irregularly perfect and it could have never been an accident for being that way.

She told me she believed that there had to be a reason everything is the way it is and that we are here for a reason. She started to explain we all must be here to make each other happy because of a book she was reading called, The Art of Happiness. In the book, it explained that we as humans are constantly seeking compassion. Except there are two kinds of compassion: compassion to care and compassion to love one another. She explained that compassion should always be to love because that is what will truly make us happy. However, to reach that kind of compassion we must go through suffering. Suffering makes us sad, but it is the only thing that will help us reach compassion which in return, is true happiness.

Billz quirkiness, dorkiness, weird puns, and infinite love is what helped me survive college. She never saw me as her friend who was raped, harassed by boys, the failing student, or a lousy runner. In times I laid in her bed crying, or throwing up from too much Franzia Wine, she still treated me like I was worth the world. I was the same friend for her - the shoulder to cry on after a bad race, the friend that gave her boy advice, and how to heal from a broken heart. We were the friends that talked about culture, ate too much dark chocolate, invented silly business ideas, and built fictitious brands for our class projects. We held each other accountable - her waking me up so I could pass Econ after “Thirsty Thursday,” and me telling her when a guy was treating her poorly and she needed to move on.

Unapologetically Herself

As an incoming Freshman, Billz’ most attractive and intimidating trait was that she was completely herself. She never realized this, but being from an abnormally small Indiana hometown, she never knew she was ‘different.’ As time went on, I saw her grow more insecure in running, with social circles, and her schoolwork. She had a tendency to talk down on herself, and believe she wasn’t as pretty or smart as other girls. I first noticed it when we were both hurt (again) after Cross Country season. We decided we were going to “pledge” a professional Fraternity called Delta Sigma Pi. It was co-ed, and known to be the next popular group on campus next to the athletes, of course. I was lucky enough to know a few members of the group already, and had a natural ability to network. As we went through our “hazing,” we later received a call if we would be a part of the Spring 2015 Pledge Class.

I felt extremely guilty hearing Billz cry on the other side of the phone when she told me she didn’t get in. Over the next few months, I felt even worse waving to all my new friends in the dining hall while we sat together. I skipped out on our study dates to go change for the next party, while she would make jokes about how she would get in next pledge period. When the next pledge period came, I grew angry when my “brothers” still continued not to see what I saw in her. Her tears spilled once more.

Suddenly, those tears turned into laughter and determination. “Screw Delta Sigma Pi! I am Sarah Billingsley! I AM BILLZ DAMMIT!” It wasn’t long before I adopted the same mentality about my position in the fraternity. Billz was my friend, and so were some of the Delta Sigma Pi Brothers. With both of our outgoing personalities combined, members of the fraternity just assumed Billz was in the fraternity too. They invited us to study, parties, and all the things we did as “brothers” anyways. I was inspired that her effortlessness in being herself, made her all the things I wanted to be - unapologetic. The times Billz would stop doubting herself, focus, and simply say, “screw it,” were the times she would take the world by storm. Those were the times, me and many others, learned to never underestimate her power.

Our Last Run

My body didn’t feel the same before the race, and throughout it, I struggled to get my legs to the finish line. My body was limp, and my mind was blank of emotion - I decided as I ran that it would be my last race. After crossing the line, I walked to find Billz. I had flashbacks of our times on the spin bikes together, tossing her snacks from the weight room, her screams of accomplishment when she was able to do five pushups - the memories flooded. I approached the van, and gave her a hug to congratulate her on her race. She smiled, and said, “what’s wrong?” “I can’t do this anymore Billz, I can’t be on this team anymore” I said.

She was hesitant like she wanted to rebut my statement and then her eyes filled with tears too. “I know Devi, you have to do what is right for you. I wish I had something to turn to like you do, but I will miss you.”

Until that point in my life, I never had a friend who understood me like she did. We were very different people. We had different friends, beliefs, tastes of music, everything about us was the complete opposite. The few things that were the same bonded us like glue. As a current activist for Women’s Rights, I think back to Sarah Billingsley often. I have taken time to deeply reflect on the type of woman I want to be, what women inspire me, and what I think a strong woman should stand for. I’ve realized that strong women are smart, powerful, loyal, risk-taking, adventurous, unique, funny, relentless, kind, strong-willed, eccentric, outgoing, compassionate, unapologetic, and filled with infinite love. Sarah Billingsley is a person of all these qualities. Sarah Billingsley is one of my best, dearest, and life-changing friends. If there is anyone woman in the world that inspires me, I am honored to say it is my soulmate, Billz.

friendship
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About the Creator

Devi Jags

Devi Jags is a rising Entrepreneur, Writer, and Activist. Her work can be seen through her endeavors such as Sambar Kitchen, The Sparkle Bracelet, and much more. To join her journey, follow her work @devijags or www.devijags.com.

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