to all the friends i’ve loved before

It took me decades to understand that some friendships belong to certain chapters, not the whole book. I held on out of sentimentality and duty, even as life pulled us in different directions. I once believed shared history guaranteed loyalty, but time proved that bonds can loosen and not everyone belongs in the future.

But growth demands honesty. Not every relationship is built to last. There’s nothing more awkward than a flat conversation or one laced with subtle competition, where everything becomes a comparison. I’d take watching cement dry over forced small talk any day. I now gravitate toward friends who bring joy, encouragement and authenticity.

I used to feel responsible for everyone’s happiness, often at the cost of my own. I was overly inclusive, inviting people along and bridging social circles just to make sure no one felt left out. Secretly, I resented it. Entertaining acquaintances I wasn’t particularly fond of out of guilt was a self-inflicted burden that only fed internal conflict.

I regret the hours spent twisting words into polite refusals, protecting feelings at the expense of my own peace. Now, it only takes a few taps to disconnect: a simple unfollow on social media, a bit of silence, a shift in energy. Sometimes the quietest exit speaks the loudest intentions.

I don’t take breakups lightly. I’m nostalgic and old wounds make abandonment feel dangerous. I tend to hold on longer than is healthy, convincing myself endurance equals care. This habit stems from past trauma, where moving on felt like losing a part of myself. But when I finally step away, it means I’ve reached my limit. I know it’s not ideal, but it has been my mechanism for self-preservation.

Letting go creates space. It clears the ground for healthier bonds, genuine connections, and relationships that feel alive rather than obligatory.

playground politics

The past week has been an uphill climb, a steep learning curve, and a test of loyalty. Adversity reveals character. 

One clear lesson stands out: friendship cannot be forced. Without shared values or common ground, no genuine connection will form. Confidence often unsettles the insecure, and instead of facing that discomfort, some choose exclusion, gossip, or passive aggression.

It’s a hard truth to face when you’re young, but there is no need to shrink for others. You can stand tall, hold your ground, and still speak with honesty, even when it feels awkward or unpopular.  

The way you stand matters as much as what you stand for. Firm opinions can live alongside kind words. Calling out poor behaviour does not require cruelty. Using your voice does not mean closing your ears. Respect comes from knowing when your words carry weight and choosing moments with care. 

My message landed. The culprits admitted fault, showed remorse, and reached out for reconciliation. Words, when sharp and deliberate, can cut through pride and create space for change.

Apologising takes humility and courage, whether in writing or face to face, and accountability deserves recognition. Dave doubts their sincerity, but I feel relieved. Peace has returned to the playground, the air feels lighter, and the tension has lifted. At the very least, they now understand the adults are not passive observers but active guardians. 

Through this, I’ve felt the strength of fellow mama bears who share my values. Their support has been steady and reassuring. Moments of friction strip away the noise and show who truly stands with you.

if the shoe fits

Taylor Swift gets criticised for turning heartbreak and betrayal into songs. I do the same, with fewer guitars and a much smaller audience. 

Blogging has always been my outlet. Long before social media, I wrote to vent, sometimes with subliminal messaging tucked between the lines. I didn’t need a crowd. A handful of loyal readers was enough to feel heard and make my point. That space was mine, and it still is. 

I continue to write about people who cross me or my family. If you don’t want to be cast as the villain, don’t mistreat others. Every choice has a cost. I won’t apologise for writing. This is my page and my story. I don’t tag names or hand out invitations. But if you’re lurking, reading between the lines, and feeling exposed, stop and ask yourself why. If the shoe fits, that weight belongs to you. Take the discomfort as a mirror. Spend less time spying on other people’s lives and more time on your own classwork instead of copying someone else’s.

My last post touched on my daughter’s friendship breakdown. People like to say, “Let the kids figure it out.” To me, that’s a cop out. Children need space to grow, but not at the cost of being hurt, cornered, or made to feel powerless. That’s when they need their parents. That’s when I step in. The world is already hard enough. I refuse to let it chip away at my child while I stand by in silence. She knows I’ll speak up. She knows I don’t let things slide just to keep the peace. She knows her mother will protect her.

Cyberstalking, hiding behind fake accounts, cheating during exams, and schoolyard gossip might look like games until someone lands in the principal’s office with a suspension.

This is not school drama. This is me drawing a line. You don’t get to mess with my girl without facing consequences.

mate expectations

Every parent hopes their child will find friends who are kind, honest, thoughtful, and grounded. We want them surrounded by people who value learning, stand up for what’s right, support others when it matters, and respect boundaries. The thought of them losing themselves to fit in, or being steered toward choices that erode their character, is unsettling.

Watching my daughter navigate this stage, I’ve seen how intense and unpredictable high school friendships can be. Puberty carries a storm of emotions and self-discovery, and the need to belong shapes much of how she views herself and her peers. Interests shift, dynamics change, and encouragement can quickly turn into pressure.

We raise our kids with strong values: to know their worth, to show kindness without being pushovers, and to walk away when something doesn’t sit right. Letting go of the wrong people is difficult at any age, but especially in adolescence, when friendships feel like the center of everything. Watching her step away with self-respect is a source of pride. She is forming a circle that will carry into adulthood, built on integrity, empathy, and genuine connection.

Some friendships will fade, and that is part of growing up. The lesson that matters is recognising what is real: bonds rooted in trust, consistency, and care. The ones that don’t just survive the twists and turns of youth, but emerge stronger.

cracked rose-tinted glasses

The “ick factor” was once mostly tied to dating. It is an abrupt, inexplicable wave of discomfort that shuts attraction down in an instant. It might be how someone handles money, the relentless typos in their texts, or a careless remark that lingers for the wrong reasons. Subtle but powerful, the ick is almost impossible to ignore once it strikes. Gen Z has stretched it further, and now it surfaces in friendships and social dynamics too.

Closeness often acts like rose-coloured glasses. With old friends, you overlook bad habits. Others might point them out, but loyalty softens the edges. You’re not blind, but the flaws land differently. Then something shifts. Maybe it’s a sudden moment or a slow build, but eventually the filter falls away. The cheap shots that once felt playful now sound crude. Sarcasm curdles into bitterness. Nosiness feels intrusive. Even typing “u” instead of “you” becomes irritating. The quirks that went unnoticed now stand out in stark relief.

A good friend is like wallpaper in a well-loved home. The cracks and faded spots tell a story, becoming part of the comfort. It’s a test of your connection, proof that true friendship holds even when the surface wears thin.

The ick shifts the balance of a friendship. It strips away goodwill and shows the person without disguise. Relationships survive through a thousand tiny concessions, until the offences cut too deep to dismiss.