“Well, I know what's right; I got just one life"

She had a stressful day, complete with an ill-equipped goodbye and struggles to remain professional while facing certain grief. She battled between acting nonchalant and letting her heart break publicly. She turned to me for advice. I answered honestly, letting her know I supported her feelings and her decisions as to how to handle them. After all, it was a personal choice and only she could answer these questions.

The conversation changed to a lighter topic: adulting and its epic levels of suck. We laughed about children wanting to prematurely become grownups and once the age is achieved, they, and we, wish we could return to that age of innocence. I remember not enjoying segments of my childhood because of the teasing but said to her, “I grew up to be one wicked cool bitch and those boys and girls peaked at fourteen.”

She laughed and agreed with my assessment.

It was then a realization struck. I am me for a reason. I became this wicked cool bitch out of trial and error. I have beliefs, integrity, and a fundamental understanding of right and wrong. This is who I am.

An earlier conundrum dissipates, revealing a lack of space for gray fuzzies. The answer is as simple as black and white.

Several like-minded girlfriends had spent days and weeks gently nudging me to remind me who I am. They asked sincere questions, trying to understand the shift in my belief system. I didn’t have solid answers for any of us. I toyed with the idea that maybe my values were flawed. The challenge came when a former friend suggested we get together to rebuild what we had lost. Initially, I agreed.

The decision didn’t sit well with me. I wondered if it was just me. After all, couldn’t I just accept her as she presented herself: single mother with a boyfriend?

Could I ignore the foul path she took to reach her end point? Could I overlook the lies she told to make her story line work? Could I agree I’m the villain in her story line and I need to seek salvation from her? After all, I’m the reason the friendship stalled.

Sure, I could. Couldn’t I?

Rhetorical questions kept sneaking up and steering me back to my resilient morals. The girlfriends were correct. In this instance, there’s a clear right and wrong. My principles are not wrong.

Now, I needed to pull the proverbial trigger. I thought I could put it off. Discuss it in person, whenever that might happen.

Avoidance has never been a strong suit of mine.

I sent her an email rescinding an availability to meet up. Without emotion, I spoke my unwavering truth. I, without apologies, drew the line in the sand, thrilled to have returned to me.