There is nothing scarier to me than a breakdown, finding yourself tumbling down an Alice-style rabbit hole into depression with no idea how to rescue yourself from it. That’s why every day I am thankful for my friend; she is the hand reaching down to pick me up every single time.
The former secondary school loner is able to go it alone and has usually been made all the braver and interesting thanks to earlier rejection from their peers for various arbitrary but at the time vital teenage reasons.
After being bullied at my all-girls boarding school, I developed a social phobia, had to be withdrawn and take three months off. As an adult, female relationships can be just as hard to navigate, which, ironically, is why you need your friends around.
Me and Lizzie have been best friends for a long time. Like, since before bras. We share everything, and I honestly don’t think we have any secrets from each other. Except now we do, because I hate Lizzie’s new boyfriend with a passion.
A few years ago I pictured our kids being friends forever, that she would always be my shoulder to lean on at family functions, that we would someday celebrate the birth of each other’s grandchildren. Now I don’t know if I will ever see her again.