'It took me 35 years to cut off my toxic high school friends. I wish I'd done it sooner.'

There was an unexpected finality in the heart-stopping moment I realised my friends had left me. 

A few of us were away on a girls’ trip, and when I returned from a coffee run to an empty hotel room, my brain couldn’t compute. I didn’t understand until the reply to my message spelled it out: they’d left in the hire car without me – and wouldn’t be coming back. 

And so ended a 35-year friendship.

I knew they would never do this to each other, but they had easily done it to me. In high school, I’d been that person – the one it was acceptable to tease, exclude, laugh at and leave behind – and not much had changed since. 

I was still the one who was told there was no room in the restaurant, or who found out later there actually was a lunch. The one who had their face drawn on when she fell asleep, the only one who was condescended to with the slash of a sharp tongue. 

These were girls I’d known since high school, and I admit I felt pretty good when I bragged about meeting my closest friend at 14, as if that duration one-upped me on other people’s friendships. In reality, time together often left me feeling hurt and stripped of confidence.

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The damage from toxic legacy friendships can last for decades, as they nourish the insecurities they planted years earlier, and I clung to mine in a state of anxiety and hope. 

While my gut questioned if they really were my friends, those school years had convinced me that I needed them because I was so undesirable that no one else would like me (even when I was pretty sure they didn’t much, anyway). I hid my hurt as much as I could and I tried to fit in. 

When my daughter overheard and asked me why my good friend said mean things to me, I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t find a reason to justify it, and I realised I was letting myself down and not setting a good example for her as she began navigating friendships at school. It was all becoming too much.

On this weekend away, it was a jab about my daughter that finally made the panic and hurt rise more than my fear of speaking up. It all came pouring out as I shared how those sharp words made me feel. I didn’t want to be spoken to like that anymore, I said, I was sick of it and it hurt me. I wanted it to stop.

The response was a team effort. 

I was rude and ungrateful for their friendship. It would take time for me to be forgiven for my accusation. And then, the next day, a secret departure. 

They probably expected me to beg for forgiveness like my role on the bottom of the friendship ladder dictated, but it’s just as likely that they didn’t care. For me, the sadness and regret never came and instead, I was filled with relief and strength. They were probably relieved too – by leaving me they had finally done something so extreme that the friendship (or whatever it was) was over. 

Unsurprisingly, the high school response was activated. I was removed from the group chats, and while not one of them has reached out, I’m okay with that. It’s a clean break.

Listen to No Filter, On this episode, The Friendship Project; a six-part audio series that dives deep into what makes adult friendships work and the factors which make them unravel. Post continues below.

Through my new lens, I can now recognise that I’m not what I was told I was at high school, but the negative residue from that time has lingered. Since high school I’ve struggled with friendships and felt they were conditional and could be revoked at any time, making them a source of anxiety and second-guessing rather than a supportive space.

I’ve always felt that no one would like me, and my lack of self-worth has affected how I help my daughter navigate friendships too. 

But now I have a different outlook, and the change has been immediate and immeasurable – not only in my friendships but in my confidence. I’m no longer tied to the hurtful past and that definition of me, and I’m actually grateful to be able to feel my self-worth restore as I focus on supportive and positive relationships. 

My advice to the women who see themselves reflected in my experience, who are the ones that are left out and laughed at, the afterthought or the target of the snide comments and insulting 'jokes' – the ones who no matter what you do, will always be on the outside, clinging on:

It’s time to leave. 

And once you do, if you’re anything like me, you won’t feel a sense of loss or sadness. You will feel joy, you’ll feel stronger, and you’ll feel your self-esteem skyrocket. Most of all you’ll feel immense gratitude to yourself for moving on. 

Because you are better off without them, just like I am.

The author of this story is known to Mamamia but has chosen to remain anonymous for privacy reasons. The feature image used is a stock photo.

Feature Image: Getty.