“You can’t compare an apple to an orange. It will cause a lot of self-esteem issues.” – Craig Sheffer
To say my best friend, C, is “energetic” would be an understatement.
She is the one who sends a million texts a day, goes to bed at 11:00 pm and attends spin at 5:00 am, and packs her day with day back-to-back with never-ending activities, usually involving other people.
She never gets tired.
I am not like that.
I need my downtime. I get overwhelmed with packed schedules. I use my morning time to write and meditate. I get annoyed with constant company.
I get tired.
In short, C and I are complete opposites.
“Let’s go to Seattle!”
She’d invited me on a three-day weekend to the city, where we could explore the sites, spend time together, and watch her daughter play in her collegiate basketball games.
Sure, why not? We’d planned the trip months ago, both of us excited.
And then I joined GraySheeters Anonymous. This is a 12-step group that requires a weighed-and-measured food plan … including in restaurants.
And C is freaking out.
At first I was, too, but then I did a couple of test-runs in restaurants. It turned out to be not a huge deal. Yes, there’s planning involved and it gets a little cumbersome but to my surprise, it was actually a bit of a relief.
I’d often eat a restaurant meal and leave feeling overly full and confused on how much I’d already eaten. Weighing and measuring in restaurants has actually brought me an unexpected freedom.
Not for C.
Last night she freaked out … again. “But I want to have a good time!” she’d said, expressing this for the second, possibly third time. “Part of the fun of going to Seattle is trying new restaurants!!”
Despite my reassurances, she continues to be concerned.
It’s C’s world and we just live in it.
This is ironic because my mom just told me that same thing about myself on our recent trip. However, my mom has never met C, if if she does, she will see what real “all about me” looks like.
I know this about my best friend, but I love her anyway.
I’m also not an idiot.
I am not going on this trip. It will not be good for me. I will get dragged around into C’s drama, on C’s schedule, going where C wants to go.
In Alcoholics Anonymous – in which I am sober 31 years – we call this, “Placing ourselves in a position to be hurt.”
Not so much.
Better to take the hit now and risk being labeled a flake than spend three disastrous days that could potentially ruin our friendship for good.
So, I’ll tell C my decision and we’ll talk through it. There will be other trips. Or there won’t. Either way, I will have taken a step toward long overdue maturity.
Which should make my mother proud.
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