Category: bliss

I’ll put it plainly: I’m not a team player. Ever since my childhood, flitting in and out of playgroups like a kindergarten ghost, I’ve never been willing to sacrifice my independence for the sake of being part of a bigger picture. Perhaps it has to do with my past: jostled from one house to another as my family found better opportunities, I rarely stayed in the same neighborhood or school for long. My upbringing – raised up in a human wolf pack, a fiercely independent clan bound by blood and hardship – encouraged me to think for myself and refuse help. Dependence, in my mind, has always equaled weakness; it has taken years of awkward adolescent loneliness and a spectacular person to break this mindset.

At the onset of high school, I joined the school newspaper on a whim. I never expected a hokey journalism class to completely revolutionize my life: in all honesty, I joined because it seemed like the only elective class that utilized my passion for writing. And yes, to be honest, while learning to design pages and write in correct AP style is often useful for class projects or research papers, these skills have not really changed me. Instead, it is the incredible people I’ve met – the people who share my passion for the written word – who have made the deepest impact in my life.

When I met Josh*, he was a gangly, slightly shy freshman whose voice made me snicker and who seemed like the ultimate teacher’s pet. As we sat in Journalism 1 class together, shooting glances at each other, neither of us expected that the next three years could bring about so much change for both of us. We didn’t interact much our freshman year, merely because I refused to associate with most of the newspaper staff beyond the class; I thought I was too ‘cool’ to be tapping away at a computer in the wee hours of the morning with ink-stained fingers.
While I was rebelling against the role I’d chosen, Josh was diligently producing modest pieces for the paper, helping out whenever he could. (I guess that’s one way he’s never changed: he’s still the hardest-working teen I know four years later.) From what he’s told me, he considered me quite a mystery, always asking questions about me behind my back or wondering what I was up to.

Josh was made Co Editor-in-Chief of the paper his junior year: quite an impressive feat, considering some juniors weren’t even section editors, and here he was directing the entire paper. I was put in charge of the Opinions section; who know two pages of a newspaper could be so much work? I was just as aloof as my freshman year and still refused to associate with much of the newspaper staff, cloistering myself away in the secluded office to work on my pages and keeping a low profile outside of class.

If the staff were a well-oiled machine, I was the screechy cog that clogged its functions. Whenever Josh or his Co-EIC would suggest a change to my section, I stubbornly refused, making a fuss about even the smallest edit. Josh and I fought nearly constantly, to the point that I often threatened to quit staff.

In spite of this, Josh tried incessantly to be a good friend and a good EIC. Even when I was getting on his last nerve, Josh always showed me the respect he thought I deserved and tried to see beyond my temper tantrums and flaws. Though I didn’t appreciate it at the time, Josh was (and still is) one of the truest friends I’ve ever had: he could have easily given up on me, replaced me with another staff member, or done my simple pages himself. Instead, Josh respected me enough to always extend the olive branch and try to work out what was bothering us, and we ended our junior year on shaky but agreeable terms.

This year, I was surprised to notice just how close Josh and I have become: we joke with each other constantly, keep up-to-date on each others’ lives, and sometimes even finish each others’ sentences. Beyond the newspaper, we talk and tease each other about our personal current events: we cheer each other on through Homecoming court nominations, debate and speech tournaments, or changes in relationship status. We also complement each other in personality: while he is an energetic, outgoing popular kid, I am a dreamy, independent poet, and we’ve taught each other a little bit about the other side of the fence through our conversations and interactions.

I was also surprised and a little afraid to realize how Josh has come to rely on me. Whenever something little comes up, like a side bar or feature, I am always the first one Josh asks to finish it; when a page needs editing and the copy editor is gone, Josh immediately hands it over to me. Because of my steady hand and endless patience, I have become the PhotoShop cut-out queen, the one he turns to when he needs an intricate photomanipulation. While the paper doesn’t fall apart when I’m not around, he’s commented to others that there is an energy lost when I’m gone: that layout is less fun without me. Though some people would be flattered to be depended upon, that restless side of me wants to turn tail and run.

Perhaps because of this, and the stress of being at the cusp of adult hood and its accompanying pressures, we have fought a lot this year – and the fights have been pretty personal. Along with our newfound closeness has been an unimaginable increase in our ability to hurt each other through words. We both blame each other for the fights – and perhaps we are both to blame – but I have left each fight burdened with a nagging feeling that something inside me causes the stress.
After much introspection, thinking back to each argument with Josh and others, it hit me like a ton of bricks – I am so afraid to trust that I push others away. While Josh is a perfectly trustworthy person, and has proven himself time and time again to be trustworthy, my innate wariness has caused me to constantly shove him aside.

I thought back to all the times that Josh has been there for me: giving me rides to school, driving me home from layout, writing for my section whenever I ask him to, editing my school papers, complimenting me when I’m having a bad day, remembering the little things I tell him, teasing me to make me feel better when I’m depressed, forgiving and forgetting each fight, taking a sincere interest in my life. I compared this to the few times that he has let me down: turning in columns late, being unavailable or preoccupied, becoming upset at a minor annoyance. I realized that the good vastly outweighed the bad, and that many of the times he’d disappointed me were instances when I’d asked too much at an inconvenient time. Faced with the cold hard facts instead of an irrational frustration, I knew then that Josh was too good not to trust.

Though my fledgling trust is still maturing, and sometimes becomes lost in the heat of the moment, I’m putting forth a sincere effort to trust before accusing – and our friendship is already improving as a result. Instead of assuming he’s intentionally letting me down, I try to exercise a little empathy and relax my expectations before immediately getting upset. The fights, though they haven’t quelled permanently, have definitely lessened in severity and regularity, and we spend more time laughing and joking with each other than snarling and accusing. I’m much happier and more positive as a result: I’ve truly found the bliss of trust.

My trust couldn’t have come at a better time, either. With college right around the corner, my insecurities about our friendship are starting to grow. Like any teenager, I’m afraid that we’ll grow beyond each other, especially as he’s going away to college and our friendship will be long-distance. When I see the joy in his eyes as he talks about his college and future career in journalism, I accept that in order to be a good friend, I have to share in his joy and trust that he will let me share in his future too.

*name changed