The Morning I Left Neverland
After realising my friendships were harming me
I woke up in a shallow pool of sweat. Or what I used to like to call my “base note” of every Sunday’s perfume. It drenched me in the antics of the night I’d spent before hitting the hay and passing out.
And they were just that: antics. Harmless, fun-filled antics with friends and loved ones. Ones I could remember most of despite the amount of alcohol and stimulants consumed. Ones I also made damn sure wouldn’t have any consequences.
This time’s sweat pool was noticeably uncomfortable. My body was cold even on a sunny morning under mounds of blankets. Though the sun peered in lazily through the slit of my bedroom blind, my swollen eyes greeted it with scorn. I was drained and I had woken up to an ugly reality.
I had walked away from an entire group of friends with no intention of going back…
Let’s rewind this tragic Scooby-Doo moment to the previous afternoon. When light still shone on in Neverland and the night’s terrors still lay dormant.
A pirate party in the park for grown-ups sounds like every oppressed dreamer’s welcomed escape from reality, right? Costumes, tug of war, mini treasures to be won, hot weather, cool beer, good friends…
At least that’s what I thought earlier that night.
The event was hosted by my best friend. She had put feelers out to many people for the weeks leading up to it but only a handful of regulars showed up to the park. I don’t think she was bothered by the small crowd. What mattered to her more was enjoying the experience with her closest friends, the ones she could be her authentic self around.
This was our Neverland.
One of these pirates was my ex. It wasn’t ideal to see him there but the inevitability of it comes with choosing to date someone within my best friend’s inner circle. Things between us ended in a messy way to put it lightly. We were certainly incompatible. I was a person who sought solutions to problems. He would rather consume substances to distract himself from difficulties making them progressively worse.
And it turns out, unfortunately, this event would be no exception.
Our pirate-clad clan had journeyed to the not-so-far-away beach to settle as it grew darker. We carried with us our booty: hunks of cardboard and wooden palette to feed a fire.
We merry few sank deeper into the night, drinking in the fire’s warmth and now warm beer — telling tales, sharing souls, singing songs.
If only that could have been enough. A pirate’s brew of other substances was bubbling beneath the surface for many including me. MDMA, cocaine, acid, marijuana; these were the gang’s real bounty of the night.
For some, despite being an attempt to relieve their mental pressures and past hardships, its consumption brings out the very worst in them.
This is exactly what happened to my ex that night. If there was ever an example of why you should kick your drinking habit and shouldn’t do drugs, kids, it was him.
He is a cocaine addict, and alcoholic and has made smoking many spliffs a day his identity. He also has been diagnosed with ADHD and schizophrenia. So you can imagine what this way of life could do to his mind.
I was on the receiving end of it way too many times and unfortunately, this night was no exception. It’s hard to think about. But knowing it happened is what’s allowing me to take action against it now.
The trouble started when I asked for a song to be played. The Hives, “Two-Timing Touch and Broken Bones” was the song that permanently ended any connection I used to have with this person.
He put on a different song by the same band, so I hastened to correct him and request the song again. He piped up in his usual fashion of speaking over me, very quickly and very loudly. His tone alone was enough to drive my heart rate rapid.
Amidst the slurry, he said something like “it’s over now”, which made me think, “great, a way out of this escalating argument! I’ll take it!” I began repeating, “ok, it’s over” or “ok, let’s leave it.” — It’s times like these I really wish I wasn’t under the influence.
I should have just bitten my tongue. I really should have, just to diffuse the situation. But the ex-girlfriend in me still clung to some sort of belief that if I tried to convince him of the error in his thinking, he’ll realise. He’ll back down. He’ll just say something like “oh, sorry! Didn’t realise” and put my song on.
Well, it wasn’t over. He went on talking about things between us to himself and a few others around the fire, whilst pacing up and down. He dove on top of me once to hug me, which then turned into another heated discussion.
Then, I heard my current partner’s name in his mouth. Someone he had only seen pictures of online. I assumed he had unfriended me on Facebook because of seeing us together. Which I completely understand. What I didn’t know was why he openly lied about it to his friends and said I had “unfriended” him.
Thinking about it now makes me cringe. It kills me how childish it all was. Why he even started talking about my boyfriend was beyond me.
He carried on, long after I finished talking to him, long after I had stopped crying and tried getting back to conversations with others. He was beyond the point of letting this go and had gone on — like clockwork — to bringing his schizophrenia to the party. Shouting all the names under the sun about me to other people, telling them he didn’t want anything to do with me, then no more than a minute later saying he loves and cares about me.
I ask you… is this love? Is this even friendship?
I’ve gathered enough evidence of this person to know for damn sure — despite what their sober intentions were — they are incapable of expressing love without a barrel of anger, frustration, and pain along with it.
His words no longer worked on me. Despite how loud he is, his actions will always speak louder.
A few days later my best friend told me she and her partner had “a serious talk” with him. Regardless of what he did to me, she was going to give him one more chance before saying goodbye.
I strongly disagree. But I can’t control her decision.
Yes, everyone is allowed to have mental breakdowns. But they don’t need to be used to justify verbal abuse and to harm those around you.
Being around friends who allow you to be your authentic self around them is dangerous when you’re mentally unhinged and have long since let go of self-control.
It feels like the memories I’ve shared with those present that night will become like the lost boys in a Neverland no one will find, no matter how bright the second star shines.
Don’t settle when they make you feel like this. Please don’t. It sets a precedent. It tells anyone currently in your life — and anyone new — that they can do the same.
People will only do to you what you allow them to. And I refuse to let sh*t like this happen to me anymore. If this involves leaving these people to it, then so be it. I’m not saying it’s easy. I’ve wrapped my brain in knots for days about what to do. Just as it’s their decision to choose that life, it’s my choice to walk away from it for good.
I’m not about to waste my life by numbing it down with drinks and drugs and being around people who refuse to help themselves.
I’ve decided I’m worth far more than that.
I am not collateral damage in someone else’s mental breakdown. And neither are you.
It’s time to wake up from Neverland…
Special thanks to Mary DeVries for attentively proofing this story for me.
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