A little lie.

The plan was perfect.

Nearly perfect, that is.

I mean, can it ever be perfect perfect?

My sister and I had one job and one job only: get my mom to a certain location at a certain time on a certain date.

She wasn’t to know as to why. That part was supposed to be a surprise.

My sister, being the actress in the family with a degree in theatre, made up a story about having a girl’s day; and so, on this ordinary afternoon, we all met at the coffee shop in preparation for this supposed “girl’s day.”

While the plan started off on the wrong foot (Mom was late and remember we had to be at a certain location at a certain time on a certain date), we managed to get her to the location just in the nick of time.

Unfortunately, we didn’t know how to get her inside, which is where she needed to be. She’ll suspect something’s up for sure, we mused.

Making up yet another little lie along the lines of: “I sold something online and I’m meeting someone here and he’s a man and I don’t want to go in alone will you go with me?”, Mom fortunately agreed to come in with us.

Whew.

Curious as to why my dad’s, and my gem’s and my brother’s car was there, things became a little more challenging when we went inside to what looked to be a social gathering.

One thing about my mom: she does not like social gatherings, especially when she suspects something is up.

And so she tried to leave.

Physically blocking her from exiting the building and potentially ruining our carefully crafted plan we had worked so hard on, we tricked her into thinking that this “social gathering”was actually in honor of our dad and his participation as a small business owner for the city of Soldotna.

Which, we weren’t lying about, as it was actually an awards ceremony.

That seemed to convince her, for she decided to stay.

Little did she know.

As the lunch went on and they went down the list of categories of all the various individuals and businesses that were benefiting the City of Soldotna, we finally arrived at the last award: Chamber Business of the Year.

Starting off with, “This family of five originally came from the city of Los Angeles”, it was then that it clicked for her.

We weren’t having a girl’s day. We weren’t meeting someone here to sell clothes. And this celebration wasn’t for my dad. It was for my mom: my sweet, selfless, humble, incredibly deserving, and totally unsuspecting Mom.

We all burst into tears at that point, my mom especially.

Huddled over in emotion, we all smiled with tears in our eyes as the announcer told the true story of my mom and what her affinity for trains turned into.

brew@602, Addie Camp, and fresh365, all byproducts of my mom’s empty nest syndrome, have since turned into three very successful businesses; and today, she was recognized for all of the hard work that went into them.

And as I sat there, I suddenly became overwhelmed with joy. Holding hands with my gem, who has been just a part of this journey as the rest of us, I felt filled with what I can only describe as pure joy.

See, a recent experience had me doubting my writing.

Faced with the insecure notion that what I wrote wasn’t relevant or what should be written about, there was a brief moment in which I doubted the very core of who I was and what inspires me to write.

But as I’m sitting there at this awards celebration, surrounded by those I love and feeling this overflow of joy and the urge to get to a keyboard and share this jubilation with you, I realized something: these are the moments in which compel me to write. These are the experiences that deserve recognition on my blog, alongside all the other heartbreaks and comedies I write about.

And not doing so? Well, it would be a disservice to what makes my heart sing.

I write when I am moved. I write what I experience, what I observe, what I live. I write every single day believing that everything is copy and that it is through storytelling that we can connect and learn about who we are.

I feel especially compelled to share stories like this because I believe in beauty, honesty, and joy just as much as I recognize and accept that life is about balancing these moments with the pain we experience. Knowing and accepting that there will be bad days, bad experiences, and bad people that walk in and out of our life, I hold on to celebrations like these just a little tighter knowing that it is equally as important to celebrate the good as it is to learn from the bad.

It is the little things that make up the tapestry of life.

And it is the little moments like these that hold the most meaning.

Being with those I love most on that day, though it was executed on a little lie, brought me to the realization that the stories I choose to share are an expression of who I am. Everything I write comes from my heart and I should never apologize for sharing what is my creative expression.

My mom, without even realizing it, not only inspires those around her with her business endeavors, but her accomplishments inspire little ole me.

She reminds me that it’s moments like these that make the world a prettier place.

Even if we get there because of a little lie.

This too, shall pass.

I really dislike social media.

“Hate hate hate, double hate, loaaaaaathe entirely.”

(please tell me you know who I’m referencing here)

But truly, it’s never been my thing.

And while, yes, it can be inspiring and enlightening, I also find it to be unbearably toxic and consuming at times.

(and this is just my personal relationship with it)

I think it’s safe to say that I’ve never had a positive bond with social media.

Since it’s origins in the early 2010’s, I never quite got on board with the hype.

I’ve never been one to “hop on the bandwagon” so to speak (unless we’re talking about 2014-15 Golden State Warriors, in which case I very much hopped on the bandwagon for they were epic during those years. But that’s basketball and we’re talking about Instagram and Facebook). Fumbling along, I always struggled with the notion of it. In the beginning, I liked this idea of connection, but then it turned into a popularity platform, and I never quite found that appealing.

I, however, made due and eventually found my niche: puns.

Puns galore.

It was kind of my thing. Still is.

(as I’m sure you’ve noticed)

And then, I realized hey, maybe I can utilize social media to help naturally and organically bring readers to my blog and the many marvelous stories about my personal growth.

Well…. it didn’t quite work out the way I had hoped.

Because I found that the more I posted, the worse I felt.

With every upload of whatever cute outfit pic I was wearing and an accompanying link to my blog, the more insecure and self-conscious I became.

It got to the point where I dreaded posting on socials. I mean, the mere thought of it brought me panic and worry.

It felt like me and social media were two different polarities, clashing inwardly, constantly.

Every upload, every (lack) of likes, and every attempt at putting my vulnerable self out there left me feeling small and insignificant. I imagined all of my followers thinking:

Ugh, another stupid photo of Elan and a link to her silly blog post. Scroll.

Her puns are pathetic. Scroll.

Wow, so many real issues in the world and here she is talking about her care-free life in far away Alaska. Scroll.

It was an insidious cycle.

I developed this innate fear that no one actually cared about me, or what I wore, or what I wrote. And this need to let someone, anyone know that I had written something I thought might inspire, or touch, or make someone laugh, well, it conflicted with these growing feelings of this doesn’t feel right.

And then the other night… my worst fears were confirmed.

I had posted, some innocent enough “hey, hi, a new blog post if ya fancy giving it a read” link, and one of my best friends suddenly unfollowed me on Instagram.

Unfriended me on Facebook too, actually.

Petty, truly, but the action hurt nonetheless.

Because just like that, I was removed from her life with a cowardly click of a bastardly button.

(This is actually the second “friend” who’s done that to me this year. Yeah, the feeling kind of sucks)

For a woman of my size and stature, I sure know how to feel like the smallest most insignificant speck.

This was one of those times.

What ensued was panic. Worry. Perseveration.

I scoured my memory for all the things I might have said or done wrong.

I cried, for most of that day.

Lamented to those around me and secretly berated myself for caring so much about an unfollow.

Of course I reached out, as I am often the goddamn queen when it comes to over-thinking. A small part of me hoped that this was one of those times, that this removal was accidental, a mistake. But for days, I never heard anything back.

No explanation. Nothing.

Which just made things feel worse.

Because suddenly, this 8 year friendship felt suspended in uncertainty.

Our last interactions, having all been what I thought to be positive (including a 3600 mile plane trip to go and visit her less than a month ago), suddenly made me question everything.

About our relationship, about myself.

And of course this was all discovered through social media.

So yeah, obviously I had doubts about it before; but now, understandably, I quite detest it.

For a site that promises “connection”, it sure as hell knows how to make one feel lonely.

In a way, it was good ole-fashioned ghosting, and sadly, I’m no stranger to it.

What really irked me though was that unfollowing me was her way of avoiding the uncomfortable but necessary act of talking things out with me, face to face.

(Being 3600 miles away, I would’ve settled with at least a phone call)

And truly, isn’t that what a real friend would do? How else am I to learn, to grow?

So as I sat, twiddling my thumbs in this purgatory, stressing over whatever it was that I had apparently done wrong, I started to question:

Is this is how a real friend is supposed to treat you?

And then, I heard back.

And what I heard back was not good.

This friend of 8 years, whom I had just visited but a month ago, had decided that it was time for us to part ways.

Right.

Well this was completely out of left field.

At first, I was absolutely heartbroken.

I was crushed, disparaged.

I felt consumed with feelings of unworthiness. More than that, I was confused as hell.

Where had things gone wrong? How had I been so blind? If she had been “feeling this way for awhile now”, why had she never told me? Who ends a friendship over goddamn text?

Comforted by those around me, I nonetheless leaned into the pain, as painful as it felt. If there’s anything I’ve learned from past heartbreaks, it’s to feel it all: the hurt, the anger, the disappointment, the loss. Splendid memories of our friendship flooded my heart and I ached for this abrupt ending. And so I held all the feelings close: wholly, tenderly.

And then I asked myself again: is this how a real friend is supposed to treat you?

Things clicked then.

No, this is not how a real friend is supposed to treat you.

Furthermore,“the friendship which can cease has never been real.”

The friendship which can cease has never been real.

Wow. If that isn’t profound.

As my tears subsided and the compassion settled in, I went to work on my computer. Fingers flying, it was then that I started to process what this relationship’s ending meant.

I started to think: maybe, despite what I had believed to be a beautiful friendship that had blossomed for years, it wasn’t all what it had appeared to be.

There were issues, as there are with all relationships.

But despite being rejected and pushed to this epiphany in the most hurtful way possible (social media, really?), I am grateful for finally seeing the truth: that this relationship clearly wasn’t all it had appeared to be.

Our culture encourages us that the ideal friendships last forever. There’s value placed on the longevity of these relationships, but there’s not a lot of dialogue about the okay-ness of letting certain friendships go.

Especially if they’re unhealthy, or the person makes you feel misunderstood, under appreciated, and judged.

Which, at times, this one did.

I listened to a meditation the other day, about closure.

In it, the narrator embraces the act of honoring endings.

I always struggled with the notion myself, preferring the woe is me route. But the honest reality is that a lot of relationships do stray off course. And while we can cling to what once was and hope for things to change, the strength of recognizing when it’s time to let go is far more profound than we realize.

I almost thank her for making me see this.

The way she did it sucked, absolutely.

But maybe going forward, I can carry a little less anguish in my heart knowing that what happened wasn’t rejection, but an opportunity to let go and be given the freedom to just be myself, without judgement.

The meditation ends with a focus on honoring ourselves and our pursuit of happiness, positivity, and growth.

I think that going forward, I need to take a break: from certain people, social media, and from all the things that disrupt my inner peace. Maybe this will allow me to breathe deeply and truly trust what my heart is telling me: that when something doesn’t feel right, it’s probably for a reason.

With that, I am obviously taking a much needed hiatus from the socials.

That means YOU Facebook and Instagram.

(I don’t consider you a social because there’s literally no interaction except between me and the keyboard)

As hurtful as the loss of this once thriving friendship was, I know that in time, this too, shall pass. The many marvelous memories will remain, but the pain will pass.

I’ll sign off with the meditation’s ending quote:

I am learning to love the sound of my feet walking away from things not meant for me.

And boy do I have a damn good strut.