Master of Business Administration What the hell were you thinking, May?
Dreaming of a brighter future, 24 year old me left my family, friends and old life behind and traveled halfway across the world to get my masters. The jury is still out on whether that was a good decision or not.
Once in Pittsburgh, I started to get to know my new classmates and building new friendships. One of those friends was N. We hit it off from the very beginning and in no time we were close friends. He was an introvert but opened up to me ( or so I thought). We would have long conversations about nothing and everything. In fact, he used to call me his best friend to which I would laugh and say that my bestie was in Bangalore and she knew me for much longer than a couple of months. Now, being complete opposites, we had more than our fair share of fights but I truly believed that he cared for me.
We weren’t romantically involved but I gave him something more precious than my heart… my trust.
Things soon started to go downhill for me. I had a roommate from hell who made being in the apartment claustrophobic. I had a tough time recruiting and was one of the last people in my class to get an internship. I was irritable and fought with my friends. I was depressed.
One day the pain was unbearable. I picked up a blade and slit my wrist. I was distraught and needed someone to comfort me. It took all the courage I had to ask for help.I messaged N. I expected him to be there for me. After all, hadn’t he told me time and again that he cared about me? Instead I got a couple of messages giving me a lecture on why I shouldn’t do such things. When I said he didn’t understand, he just stopped messaging. I have no words to describe how I felt. Worthless? Hollow? Destroyed?
I agree it was a stupid thing to do but is it too much for your best friend to expect you to comfort her, N?
Was I not even worth a phone call?
You said you cared about me, so how come my life didn’t matter at that time?
Was I such a horrible person that I didn’t deserve to be comforted?
Why did you give me false expectations?
Luckily, shortly after this, another friend called me. She could make out that I was upset just from my tone so she insisted, came and picked me up and took me over to her place. I don’t know what I would have done if I was alone at home that day. I’m glad I never have to find out. It took more than a year for me to tell her what had happened that night. I hope she know how much it means to me that she was there.
After graduation, I moved to Chicago and started seeing a new therapist. Through our sessions I found out that I have PTSD because of this incident. I had to acknowledge it and deal with it to move forward.
For a long time, these questions haunted me and I just wanted answers. I guess I will never get them and that’s okay. However, the next time someone says they care about me, I am going to take a page out of Eliza Doolittle’s book and say Show me