By: Jamie
Updated: July 8, 2021
Originally Published: Feb. 11, 2014
Just yesterday, I received a text from my daughter during her sleepover with friends.
“It’s so frustrating when everything your friend does seems cooler than what you do.”
I shot back a quick reply, “Totally!”
She continued, “She’s always talking about her fancy vacations and activities, and I feel like the only one without a yacht. I hate being the ‘poor kid’ with parents who are divorced.”
Reading her message made my heart ache because I completely understood. I texted her back, “I get it, sweetie. Honestly, I don’t love being the broke divorced mom either. I wish things were different. But remember, focus on what you have, like your amazing little brother.”
She replied, “That’s nice, but it’s hard! All we talk about is her riding lessons and her beach house, while I feel like I have nothing.”
I encouraged her, “Try not to measure yourself against her. Trust me, comparing yourself to others only leads to misery.”
Her frustration bubbled over: “But she just won’t stop bragging!”
I replied, “If she can’t stop talking, she might need to hear herself for a change.”
She shot back, “She has great grades, money, and a two-parent household. What more does she need?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle, “Apparently a lesson in humility.”
Her self-esteem took a hit as she texted, “If it were any lower, I’d be in the Mariana Trench.”
I set down my phone, remembering my own experiences with friendship drama as a teenager. The betrayal, the jealousy, and the constant shifting of friendship dynamics. You know the drill—who’s “in” today and who’s “out.”
Before long, my daughter came home, and her emotions spilled out.
“We were skating, and ‘C’ and ‘D’ were always together, holding hands. Every time I approached, they skated away or made excuses, and it felt like they were gaslighting me!”
Tears streamed down her face as she recounted her experience. “They kept asking, ‘What’s wrong with you?’ while I stood there alone. It was so awful!”
I wrapped her in a comforting hug, her black eyeliner running down her face. “That sounds really tough, sweetheart. It reminds me of my own school days when girls would leave each other out or write mean things on the bathroom walls.”
“They still do that!” she exclaimed.
“I know,” I replied with a knowing smile.
She continued, “On the train, they kept moving away from me. It was like they were playing a game.”
“Whoa! Just remember, their behavior isn’t about you. You’re merely their target for control.”
It pained me to see her struggle, and I longed to fix it all for her, but I knew I couldn’t.
We talked about the challenges of growing up as a girl, friendships, and the infamous mean girl culture. Eventually, she started cracking jokes about her eyeliner, wiping her tears away.
After a while, she got back to her activities. I sat on the floor, reflecting on our conversation. I hoped I had been a good listener, even though I wanted to tell her to steer clear of those two friends.
This moment in her life would leave a mark, and I hoped it would be a lesson learned.
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