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  • achronicsurvivorsa
    • Feb 5
    • 6 min read

It’s Not Selfish to Protect Your Peace


Over the years, my definition of friendship has changed. I suppose you can say that it comes with age. The more you grow, the more attuned you become with yourself and the needs you require for a peaceful life. Due to my history, I’m sure it surprises no one to learn that I value friendship over family. Mind you, I hadn’t even suffered the kind of atrocities that are typically committed by family members. Well, besides the obvious; abandonment and neglect. It is safe to say that I have come to view family as an obligation rather than a blessing. You can’t pick who you’re related to, but you can most certainly pick your friends.

When I was younger, I was of the impression that the more friends you had the better. I guess you can say my expectations were due to all of the cartoons and disney channel shows I consumed as a little girl, but honestly, I thought it would bring me happiness. I envisioned outings around the city where we would visit restaurants and shop together and you can’t exactly have fun in an arcade without a group. After having spent most of my teenage life in the hospital, I was excited by my imagination yet it didn’t take me long to become overwhelmed by school.

And I had to navigate all of this without my mother.

In highschool, I was approached by the friends I made there. I was intimidated by crowds, and hardly found enough courage for my voice, but they were kind individuals that were patient with me. However Nikki, and the two friends I made in middle school were who I spent most of my days with. I remember how silly we were as a group. I loved my hours with them playing pretend and getting invested in the manga we would pick up from the library. I could attribute most of my interests coming from those pivotal months I spent with them. I missed a lot when I went to Puerto Rico.

I was over the moon when I got my first boyfriend in high school, however that feeling of bliss didn’t last long when he took it upon himself to toss me under the bus all because I wouldn’t sleep with him. I was 15, and had just experienced my first kiss after losing my mother and going into remission. Maybe most teenagers would have jumped at their first opportunity of sex, but I was not such a teenager. Jeff wasn’t very fond of that. He was the first to teach me what it means to have my heart broken by a boy. Some might claim that he told the teachers about my self harm as a way to get me help, but what many will ignore is the fact that he called attention to it when I was done. I no longer had interest in continuing those acts, especially not after the big conversation I had with Nikki. My wounds were healing. There was no need to lock me up for three months.

At least Puerto Rico was a welcomed change.


In a place where I wasn’t fluent with the language, I was genuinely so grateful to have made English speaking friends. You can say that we clung to each other given our similar backgrounds, and the fact that most of us came from New York. They made those four years worthwhile, but I was still bullied. Most of us were. Looking back, I find myself realizing that we had the kind of bullying situation I saw in Disney Channel, where it was a specific group picking on all the ‘little people’, just in Spanish. And a lot more violent. I had enough anger in me to stand up for myself. I guess you can say I had gained a bit of a reputation while on the island. I’m cringing at the memory, but it would be rude not to be honest.

I’ve had many different kinds of friends over the years; friends that have looked out for me, and protected me. Friends that stabbed me in the chest, which is somehow far worse than if they had just stabbed me in the back. I’ve had people steal from me when I thought that they were being genuine. I’ve helped people who were quick to drop me the moment they were given an opportunity. A lot of heartbreak, a lot of anger and now, a whole lot of days sitting in silence, reminiscing.

I wish I could say that all this experience has made me a better judge of character, but I think I’d be giving myself far too much credit. I’m still taken for a fool every once in a while. Instead, I’ve grown more reserve with my energy and the trust I put in people. It has left me with a much smaller circle than what I had in my 20s, but I am at peace, which is a priceless commodity. I won’t lie, however, and say that the memories of the friendships I once cherished don’t haunt me. They very much do, and I sometimes yearn for the days before they hurt me. What I won’t do is turn a blind eye to those events. Maybe it has turned me into a person with trust issues, but I believe it is healthy to have a decent enough amount of suspended belief.

I’ll give an example.

A few years ago, I was excited at the idea of one of my friends from Puerto Rico coming to live with me. Part of that excitement was due to the lower cost in rent, but another part is linked to the memories I had of us in high school. She was one of my most cherished friends in high school, and we were as thick as thieves. That led me to believe that I knew her enough to be able to live with her which was my first mistake. After all, it had been years since we first spoke to each other and even more since graduation. I should have been a bit more careful in my approach.

When she arrived she quickly settled in, and I thought it would be like the college experience. I was living with my now husband, and my best friend, who just had the cutest little girl, so it was a full house but we were making it work. It didn’t take too long to see the cracks however, and when she started seeing a guy at the job she managed to get, things started to get uncomfortable. I quickly realized that I didn’t know this person at all.

In my household, we split everything down the middle much like a typical family would; rent, utilities, internet, groceries. Me and my best friend, Brad, had control over the kitchen and so we tended to cook for the household as well. I understood her desire to limit her own financial burdens, but she was quickly trying to divide everything in a fashion that we were unaccustomed to. That left for an awkward encounter in the kitchen whenever we were putting things away as she was insisting on organizing everything by group, even though we expressed to her that she was free to do with her things as she wanted but that our stuff didn’t have to be organized to her specifications. Honestly, I shouldn’t have been surprised when things only escalated.

We (me and Brad) had put up with her making a racket during intimacy with her boyfriend too!

I have so many wild stories involving the friends that I once upon a time had that I’m sure I could write a book. Most of the audacity displayed in my years all seem unbelievable when I offer retellings, but I can assure you that the only thing I have not experienced yet is a friend taking my romantic interest. Not that it hasn’t been attempted, either.


Friendship could be just as complicated as family, if not more. You need to be cautious with who you allow in your circle, and you need to protect your energy, so entertain a bit of skepticism. Distrust is a human’s basic instinct at play. It’s okay if you don’t welcome everyone with open arms. Just be sure to treat everyone how you expect to be treated in return, offer respect even when they go out of their way to disrespect you, and smile in the face of their insults, as it is better to kill them with kindness.

Sometimes I’m still surprised that a good person could attract the worst people, but I really shouldn’t be. Bad people don’t always surround themselves with other bad people as that tends to be the ‘tell-all’ sign. And sometimes bad people don’t have people around them at all. Whatever the case may be, don’t stop being a good person just because of bad people. You’ll simply give them a narrative for their own story.


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