
The Walls Between Us: Navigating Pain, Fear and Hope
Tonight, I had dinner with friends—friends I love dearly but met through my soon-to-be ex-husband. One of them is his best friend, and being around them is a strange, delicate dance. A while ago, I told them I needed space. It was impossible to heal while sharing friends with someone who had caused me so much pain. Even with the boundaries I set, we still gather, and I’m grateful for the time we share. I love listening to their stories, lending an ear for their struggles, and just being there for them. But because of the boundaries I set, I often hold back when it comes to sharing my own stories and struggles, torn between the desire to open up and the necessity of keeping those boundaries in place. As much as I want to be vulnerable with them, I feel it’s still important to protect the space I’ve created for myself. It’s hard to maintain that balance, though—wanting to connect but knowing those boundaries are still needed for my healing.
One of those friends was venting tonight about her relationship issues. She was upset because her boyfriend told her she needed to “deal with her own shit.” And in that moment, all I could think about was my ex, how he once told me he was “built for ready-made,” like someone with my problems was too much for him—as if my baggage made me unlovable. He said this after knowing about my severe depression, as if my struggles were more than he could handle. I wanted to share that. I wanted to say, I know exactly how that feels. But I didn’t. I kept it to myself because these are the boundaries I created, and somehow I’ve trapped myself inside them.
Beyond the divorce, there’s something else weighing on me. I recently learned that I need a biopsy for a lump they found in my breast. I’m terrified. It’s the kind of fear that sits in your bones. And tonight, I wanted to talk about it. I wanted to tell my friends that I’m scared. But then I stopped myself. Why do you think you have any right to talk about being scared? I thought. Not long ago, you didn’t even want to be here. How can you be afraid of dying when just a few months ago, you were ready to end it yourself?
I feel like I’ve lost the right to be afraid. But that fear is real. Because for the first time in a long time, I see a future. I’m coming out of a severe depression, a darkness that almost consumed me, and now, just as I’m finding my way back to hope, this happens. It feels cruel, like some cosmic joke. And yet, here I am, trying to navigate it all—trying to understand this new version of me who wants to live but feels guilty for it.
So, I didn’t share. I stayed quiet and happily listened. But tonight, I’m writing this because I need to say it somewhere. I need to release these words I’ve been holding inside. I need to be able to say, I’m scared. I’m hopeful.
-The Not So Common Gal