Dear Best Friends,

I wish I could say that I didn’t think I am a bad friend. Or is it that I label myself a bad friend as a defense mechanism to do it before you actually call me a bad friend? Perhaps I’m over-analyzing you and me. Besides, I neither think I’m a bad friend nor can I read your mind.
I wish I could have known all that would change when I moved 1000 miles away with my husband. I mean, I suspected I would struggle with loneliness and maybe depression without my support system of family, friends and treatment team with me. What I didn’t suspect was that I would all-out relapse. Or that my best friend, my husband, would grow into someone I didn’t care to recognize. Worst of all, I didn’t realize that my relationship with both of you would change forever.
I’m home now and coping as best as I can. I hope you realize that amidst all the bad news of divorce, unemployment, debt, and sickness I am trying to put on a happy face and put my life back together. You see, I stopped writing and calling because I’m tired of being the bearer of bad news. You don’t make me feel that way. Ever since I moved away and came back, I’m different. My self esteem slipped away and took my self confidence with it. I feel unworthy of you and all of your accomplishments. You see, its not you. Its me.
I haven’t forgotten you. I carry you and many special memories of good times together in my heart. I wish there was some other way of getting back into your life. I miss you, friends. Do you miss me?

With love,
Ashamed

PS. I bet you think I’m crazy now, too. Sorry.