If you have ever made any human relationships in your life, you might be comfortable admitting that there are things you don’t do anymore because it reminds you of people that came into your life, created a hurricane and left you on the bathroom floor wondering what it was that led you to let them into your life in the first place.

Or, maybe some version of that, but less dramatic.

In my experience, I haven’t been that great at friends.

I mean, of course, most of the friendships I’ve made have lasted me through almost my whole life so far, but that’s sort of a by-product of attending school with the same people in the same circle of friends for 13 years.

I don’t pick my friends: they just choose to stay in my life. But I do get to choose who doesn’t stay in my life, which is a privilege that I’m a little too familiar with.

Not that I’m a terrible person or anything, but I’m afraid of drama and when people make me feel like I’m not enough, or maybe like I’m too much, I end up cutting them off.

This, of course, is for my mental health. I’m not trying to be mean, I’m just trying to protect myself.

Once upon a time, I had a friend who made me feel like I wasn’t enough. Or, I guess not exactly a friend, but someone whose presence I couldn’t quite kick out of my life.

We were in the same grade, same social circle, same classes, same extracurriculars -- hell, the only way to get her out of my life was to move away, cut off every person I’ve ever known, and pretend like everything was OK.

It wasn’t just that she made me feel like I wasn’t enough. There were times when she would point out things I should and shouldn’t do, cross boundaries, and invalidate how I felt. She always played the victim and pushed blame onto other people.

She always made me felt like I was exaggerating my emotions, and would constantly try to tell me that I should break up with my boyfriend because I couldn’t love him as much as I wanted to due to my deep set emotional issues.

And, god, she would tell me that, maybe, I should downplay my accomplishments because I shouldn’t want to make other people feel bad.

When I got my college scholarship she said “Congratulations!” which might have been OK if it wasn’t hit with the tagline, “I’m gonna be in debt and struggling for a long time, but I’m happy for you!”

Emotional abuse is a pattern of verbal offense, criticism, bullying, and manipulation (along with a lot of other controlling tactics) that, in friendships, a lot of people just equate to “being jealous” or “being petty.”

Hell, sometimes people don’t even realize their friendships are abusive because no one really gets taught that abuse happens within friendships too.

I was told that she was just looking out for me. But I don’t think looking out for someone is supposed to come with this many emotional scars.

There are certain things that I don’t do anymore because it reminds me of her, and how she pushed me down and destroyed my self-esteem without anyone even noticing what was going on.

I was depressed and anxious for a long time, and my counselor once told me that my inability to do those certain things are a result of post-traumatic stress disorder.

Whenever I walk into a craft store, or a Target, I get anxious because it reminds me of her. I can’t listen to Walk The Moon, one of my former-favorite bands, without thinking about the things she’s done to me and the ways she’s made me feel.

There are words and phrases that I can’t hear anymore, and there are places that I can’t go to anymore.

Emotional abuse is brainwashing and I have more than succumbed.

My self-worth and trust is deteriorated and I can only hope that, with time, I won’t freeze up when Anna Sun comes up on the radio and I can sing along like my 16-year-old self, my pre-emotionally abusive friendship self, wants me to. Like I want to.