I may have alluded to the craziness of my job in my last post (or I may have actually said my job was crazy in my last post). What I didn’t say was that I kind of felt like having a major meltdown because the stress was temporarily but not uncharacteristically overwhelming by the end of Friday. It took all of twelve minutes for that feeling to subside, but for a while, I felt the uncontrollable urge to go cry in the supply room.
A while back, I wrote about my best friend Denise. As previously mentioned, she and I have known each other since we were five years old. We only lived in the same state for about four or five years before my family and I moved, but we’ve remained close over the years. That’s a testament to how the Internet can sometimes be good and how MySpace is, in fact, sometimes a place for friends and not a place for pedophiles or middle aged creepers wanting to chat.
My MySpace status reflected my need to have a meltdown, and, like a true best friend, Denise sent me a message asking if everything was okay. I sent her back MAYBE the world’s longest message because a) I’m chatty and b) there’s some back story. I explained the whole situation and why I was frustrated and everything, and she wrote me back today, and she mentioned that I sounded so grown up. It clicked then that oh, my God, I just wrote about my full-time, post-college job to my best friend, and oh, my God, I’m an adult.
Denise and I are adults. I’ve known this girl since we were five and probably wanted to be princesses or professional ice skaters when we grew up, and now we are grown up. I’m not a princess or a professional ice skater (and neither is she), but I do have a job that I love, and, more importantly, I still have the same best friend.
It will never cease to floor me that my best friend and I have a friendship that has withstood the test of time. I’m amazed at how in a few short years, our messages went from being confused about boys to being frustrated with work. In a few years, we’re going to be talking about getting married and do you really like the bridesmaid dress I picked out, or are you just telling me that because you love me? And a few years after that, we’re going to be talking about baby names and due dates. I can’t wait for those messages, but I have a sneaking suspicion that I’m going to be even more blown away by the fact that my best friend just e-mailed me links for a dress to wear in her wedding because how did we get so old?
To be honest, I’m not terribly sure how or when it happened, but I’m glad she’s been there with me, and I’m glad she’ll be there with me for the rest of it.
