On July 28, 2016, at 8:28 pm, I felt my heart stop.

The moment where I realized that my best friend of almost five years called me phony and superficial. I could not have fathomed it. I have done and said more than what was asked of me. I was there for all the good times, the bad times and the grey times.

And yet, my world shattered knowing I did not have the person who I loved dearly like a brother decided to call me a “fucking phony.” To be honest, a large part of me knew that this word did not apply to me. However, I gave into the small part of me. The niggling feeling that said I was an awful person. I was dirt and didn’t deserve to be a friend to anyone. You see, that’s what grief and deeply hidden insecurities do to a person.

Grief- it’s a noun, pronounced as grēf, and the dictionary defines it as, “deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone's death: she was overcome with grief.” Here’s the thing, a person did not die, but my friendship and my sense of worth and confidence died.

For a long time, it was on life-support. This was in July, and I had the rest of the summer to “get over it” so I can be brand new over the summer. You see, that was not the case. The desire to disappear without a trace, change my name and begin a new life never felt stronger.

In fact, I wanted to shed my skin, as a snake does. If this doesn't draw any image for you, imagine Voldemort at the end of the battle where he was lying in a pile of bones at King’s Cross. That’s what I felt like rather than a rambunctious person who wanted to take the world by a storm.

You see, grief, when coupled with deep-rooted insecurities, does a number on a human mind. It makes a person believe in the worst about him or herself. That semester, I was the Public Relations Officer of a club and after a talk with the club president who I did not see eye to eye with simply said that my position is the lowest ranking.

Again, the sensible part of me knew, “Duh, makes sense.” The large part of me said that the president said that my position, albeit, legitimate, was not really important. See, I gave into the dark part of me again. From, “technically, your position is the lowest ranking” the depressed and grieving part of me took that as “You are a low ranking person. You don’t matter. You’re not even a good person.”

A year later and the good part of me knew that this was bull. I AM a good person, I deserve to be loved and am a great friend. However, my loss and insecurities did not let me see that. Anytime, my other best friend, who is honestly an angel, and I would have arguments, I was left with the fear of that she was going to leave me too. That I was going to lose another friend. I could not handle it. During my moments of clarity, when I was preoccupied with other matters, I talked to her and she said that she would never end our friendship over text. That I meant more to her than that.

I was happy in those few moments. I felt loved again… until the dark shroud took over me and frankly I did not recognize the person who took over me.

If you knew me before last summer or now, you would say that I am a happy and jovial person. I always have a smile and witty humor. Last fall semester, I was angry, hurting, upset and I lashed out at the very people who loved me and wanted me to get better. In all honesty, I hated the person I was. It felt abnormal to be so unhappy 24/7.

When we think of depression and grief, you are likely to think of someone who sleeps all day and night, is on antidepressants, barely functions, and is likely to abuse substances. That was not me. Sure, I slept a lot more often, but I functioned. I laughed but it felt hollow. I went to class and did all my work. It just never felt complete, for lack of a better word. I just felt desolate and I hated the feeling of helplessness.

In November of last year, my best friend finally gave me a talking to and I realized that I needed help. I could not continue to alienate my friends and family. I had my PRAXIS exam to take, get through the senior year and begin student teaching, Basically, big things were in store for me. My current best friend sent me to therapy saying, “I care about you and you need some help.”

Now, it's September of 2017 and I look back and think, “Wow, I made it.” I did not think I would be able to survive a loss of a person who is still living but now the loss does not affect me. Now, I am freer and happier. It's like I am a phoenix that rose again from its ashes. I have the friends who love me and support me and now I can say goodbye to people who bring nothing but negativity in my life.

That teeny tiny little voice that controlled me? She’s gone too. Hiding, too weak to have any power over me. My confidence and self-worth are back in fighting form. The biggest takeaway that you can take from this is that time literally heals all wounds. Your grief and sorrow can take you a week, a month or even a year. Someday, it just lessens.

At the time, the little voice in you will say that you’ll never recover from the loss and the feeling desolation. Give it time. You will become bigger than the voice and take comfort in the good memories without falling apart.