Realizing I made a big, bad boo-boo

So yesterday, I wrote about how I was annoyed that people who were supposed to be my friends weren't calling me back. Last night, I was frustrated enough that I left a short, angry message on one of their voicemails. I didn't say anything mean, it was the way I said it that was mean. And her feelings were hurt.

See, for more than a year, I've been feeling like these two people have become closer friends and excluded me. That colored how I chose to talk to one of them last night (the one I've known longest). It wasn't appropriate behavior on my part, and I'd be feeling just as hurt as she is if I had received a similar message.

We've been drifting apart, mostly because I felt excluded more than a year ago and decided to just keep that to myself and let it eat at me for all this time. And then when my friend couldn't come to Llama's baptism, even though it was for a very good and understandable reason, I let that combine with my hurt feelings from before. Then when my friend went on a very nice vacation, I was jealous. I haven't been on vacation in more than two years and I am not likely to be seeing any warm tropical beaches (or snow-covered mountains, or national landmarks) any time soon. So I just packed that jealousy in with my hurt feelings and held onto it.

Then I dumped it out on her last night. Which she didn't and doesn't deserve. I can't apologize enough. Before you think that this is an open apology to her, let me tell you that we have drifted apart enough that I never even sent her a link to this blog. She's been my best friend since we were fifteen years old, and I haven't told her most of the stuff on here or that this even exists, because I was being petty and jealous. I'm ashamed. This is not how I want to raise my daughter to act. I'm a better person than this. I'm a better friend than this. Or I used to be.

I've been dealing with some depression and anxiety issues. That's not an excuse. I'm stressed out, lonely, scared, and sad a good portion of the time. That is also not an excuse. I know better. I wasn't taught better, but I have taught myself better. I'm ashamed that I seem to have reverted to behaviors my mother uses and that's not acceptable to me or to anyone else.

I'm trying. I'm sorry.