Seven Months, Several Tears, and a Blog Later...

Seven Months, Several Tears, and a Blog Later...

You know what they say: time heals all wounds. But they never mention that it also sharpens your memory. Seven months later, I’ve finally put words to what happened during The Event...aka the emotional obstacle course I never signed up for.

Spoiler: this won’t go down well with certain people. And that’s okay.

You see, if you treat someone poorly and they eventually talk about it, maybe in a blog post, maybe in a tear-soaked monologue, it really shouldn't come as a shock. Consider it an emotional receipt.

Let’s rewind. During the event, I asked, multiple times...for support. I wasn’t vague. I wasn’t cryptic. I flat-out said, “Help.” What I got instead? Silence. Well, not silence exactly, more like frosty glances and whispered gossip. The kind of vibes that make you cry in the bathroom and second-guess whether simply existing was the problem.

And the heartbreak? It didn’t stem from the drama itself. It came from who dished it out: people I thought were my friends. Best friends. People I’d have shared my trail mix with.

There were good moments, too. Absolutely. Moments I’ll treasure. But when those are mixed in with the toxicity, you start to wonder, were they real? Or just PR stunts to cover the backstage chaos?

At one point, a new crew member joined late into the game, and they’d already been prepped on “who I was.” Which, fun fact, wasn’t me at all. By then, I was barely speaking, walking on eggshells, trying not to offend anyone by, I don’t know, breathing too enthusiastically.

And even after everything, after the event, after the final awkward meeting where I was visibly treated like a malfunctioning air fryer in a room full of brand-new toasters, no one said sorry. Not once.

Imagine the healing that could have happened if just one person had said, “Hey, I was kind of a jerk. I’m sorry.” I might’ve cried (again), sure. But I also would’ve forgiven. That’s what I do. My partner says I wear my heart on my sleeve. Honestly, I might as well embroider it there permanently.

Instead, the only reaction I’ve seen has been… to my blog. Not because they care. But because, gasp, someone else might read it and learn what really happened. Heaven forbid.

This blog isn’t a vendetta. It’s not a dramatic reveal. It’s just my truth. It’s me processing why I don’t look back on the biggest event of my life with joy, but with pain. At one point, it pushed me so low, I wondered if I could go on at all. That’s how much it hurt.

To realise the people you adored might never have adored you back? That cuts deep. But here’s the twist, I still believe in people. Even the ones who hurt me. I believe they had their reasons. Misguided, maybe. But I'm sure they did, they must have, right? Or why do it? But I actually forgive them. I genuinely do. I like to think that everyone is "lovely!!" And yes I was told that I would see after the event that this fact isn't true, and I did! But that doesn't mean that everyone doesn't have lovely parts to them. Because I still think that's true. Even those who hurt me the most. I think perhaps circumstance can make you behave in certain ways? That's what I chose to believe anyway!

And now? I’m looking ahead. My next challenge is calling. New people, real support... It’s almost like it’s in the job description....

So here’s to truth-telling. To healing. And to the next adventure, with people who lift you up! And to those who I know are reading my blog, you were my very good friends, and even after all of this, I still know that you are good people. Just perhaps in a situation which triggered the lass caring sides of you. For asking you to be there, I feel responsible, and im sorry. I wish you'd taken us up on the offer to be replaced early on, when the cracks were showing to those at home. This would then have been a different story! For your commitment to finishing, a huge thankyou. There were some lovely moments and some fun ones too, its just a shame they were overshadowed somewhat.

But as for now, I'm moving on. We all should...