Sarala Life — Life in Chapters: Careers, Canines, Cabernet & Courage

🌿 Chapter One: When the Friendship Was Only Real in My Mind
“The hardest heartbreaks don’t always come from romance — sometimes they come from the friends we thought would stay forever.”

Who hasn’t felt the quiet ache of a friendship lost?
It’s a pain like no other — sharp yet shapeless, familiar yet bewildering. The heartbreak of friendship can trigger its own kind of grief. It’s not the romantic kind that society gives you permission to wail about; it’s the quiet unraveling of something that once felt safe, nourishing, and true — until you realize maybe it only existed in your mind.
This is the story of one of my first heartbreaks in the chapter of my thirties. Not the deepest wound, but one that left a lasting mark. One that, now through therapy and healing, I can finally look at with more clarity— and with enough distance to see my own reflection in the story too.

The Friendship I Thought I Had
For years, I believed I’d found a true friend.
To some around us, this person was known for being controlling, even a bully. But to me, they were warm and welcoming. I chose to see that side — because the unhealed version of me needed love and validation, even if it came dressed in dominance.
I showed up for this friend. Never went empty-handed to their home. Left mine to help with theirs. Advocated for them, supported them, thought we had something mutual — something family-like.
And then one day, came the text:
“We need to talk. In person.”
No context, no hint. Just an invitation to what would become one of the most painful evenings of my adult life.

The Backyard Conversation
I remember being led through the side gate into the backyard — so as not to disturb the household. I sat, unsuspecting, until the “charges” began to unfold like a list rehearsed in advance:
• I had never invited them to my (then tiny) home.
• I didn’t share my personal problems with them.
• They made vegetarian food and shared their best wines, yet I hadn’t reciprocated enough.
• They’d heard updates about my life from others, not from me.
Each statement landed like a stone.
I sat in disbelief — shocked, hurt, confused. My instinct wasn’t to defend, but to flee. The little girl in me — the one who’d always tried to make herself small and agreeable — wanted to hide.
Driving home through tears, I called another friend who quietly helped me get back safely to my husband- who would later try to balance his own fury at the situation with comforting me. I was shattered, questioning everything: my worth, my instincts, my boundaries.

Seeing My Own Part
With time — I’ve come to see that while the delivery was cruel, some of what was said wasn’t entirely wrong.
I was guarded. I did keep my private life close. I often tried to earn connection through doing. And I expected them to know that I cared.
That doesn’t justify how it ended, but it does remind me that in every relationship, even the painful ones, there’s a mirror somewhere.
And healing means being brave enough to look into it.

The Real Lessons Beneath the Pain
That conversation taught me lessons I couldn’t name back then — but healing has a way of illuminating the dark corners.

1. People show you who they are. Believe them the first time.
   I ignored the red flags others saw because I wanted to believe my experience was special. It wasn’t.
2. How someone treats others is how they will eventually treat you.
   Charm and control can share the same room — but only one builds real friendship.
3. Boundaries are love — not walls.
   If someone tells you that a friendship requires you to overshare your private life, that’s not closeness; that’s control.
4. You can only show up in the way you’re able.
   If your effort isn’t enough for someone else, it doesn’t mean you’ve failed.
5. Grace is strength.
   My friend was clearly hurt too. But not every hurt must be healed together. Sometimes, release is the only respectful answer.

Healing and Reframing Friendship
It took years before I could be around that person again without the sting of sadness. And when I finally could, I realized something vital:
Two people can live the same friendship and walk away with entirely different stories — and that’s okay.
Today, my friendships look different…and not by design…but by fate after many other losses and lessons; and in one or two pockets of pure magic and connection. They’re not mirrors reflecting what I want to see. They’re windows — open, honest, sometimes messy, but safe.
I have friends who’ve seen me at my worst — black-out crying, ugly tears, regret-drunk grief — and they love me still.

Those friendships aren’t about constant contact or shared secrets. They’re about respect, empathy, and space to just be — without performance or expectation.
And as we journey perhaps I will share about some who have seen me at my worst and… no longer love me.

What I Know Now
Looking back, I can hold both truths:
There was love in that old friendship, and there was pain.
There was laughter, and there were lessons.
It wasn’t all false — but it wasn’t all healthy either.
And now, when I meet new people, I try to lead with the healed parts of me. I remind myself that being private isn’t being cold. That being discerning isn’t being distant. And that the friendships worth keeping will never ask you to shrink to fit inside them.
Sometimes, losing what you thought was real is how you finally make space for what truly is.

Closing Thought:
“Not every loss is a wound. Some are gentle releases — the soul’s way of making room for lighter love.”

✨ About SaralaLife
A Caribbean woman learning, unlearning, and becoming — one chapter at a time. Writing about careers, courage, canines, cabernet, and the quiet moments that change us.

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