Author’s Note: I’m scared to publish this. Yep. It’s messy and emotional and a little too vulnerable. I thought giving it three weeks would help, but nope, three weeks after writing this I’m still scared to share this with anyone. But I’ve seen God use my mess to encourage people too many times. So hopefully He uses this one too. Also, if you are one of the Young Life leaders I mentioned in this post, please . . . don’t take it personally. You are all pretty amazing people, and it’s my past that makes it hard to trust again, it’s not anything you’ve done or that I anticipate you doing. Thanks for helping me learn how to be a friend and have friends again.

I’m feeling pretty raw right now. I’m not sure if it’s healthy for me to be writing this at the moment or not. But this blog post has been brewing in my mind and heart for a few weeks now as I learn to trust again so here I am.

Tonight, I cried in front of my whole Young Life leader’s team. And it wasn’t just “I’m emotional I’m gonna cry” or “I’m in so much pain if I don’t cry I’m going to implode” or even “I’m totally overwhelmed with grief right now I feel like throwing up.” It was more like my soul was bared and my shields got stripped away completely.

It hurt. It still hurts.

And it was so personal I won’t go into why I was crying right now. But lately, I’ve been trying to learn how to trust people again. I didn’t realize how much illness wrecked my ability to trust people and have real friendships.

Illness affected all of the friendships and relationships in my life so deeply, and I didn’t realize how broken I got. How much fear I have.

When I first was well enough to start interacting with people in real life again, I felt like I had to relearn how to be in social situations. I had to relearn how to read people and how to carry a conversation and what to do or not do.

It was hard!

But now, I’m having to learn how to be a friend and to let people be my friend. It’s scary. For one, I don’t know when to put up healthy boundaries and when to be vulnerable. Illness taught me to put up walls in the wrong places and to be vulnerable about the “wrong” things.

In survival mode, I hid parts of my heart from my friends and family because they or I were too fragile. In survival mode, I also tended to dump my mess on people when they weren’t ready for it just because I would implode if I had to carry it all on my own one moment longer. The wrong stuff would be told to the wrong person at the wrong time.

But now, I’m much more emotionally stable. I don’t have quite as much to deal with at one time as I did when it comes to physical and emotional pain. So what is the proper code of conduct for normal life and relationships? When should you open up and when should you let things go unsaid? When should you pry deeper and when should you let people be? I don’t know how to behave in normal friendships.

My friendships were forged in fire, and someone could either handle it or they would disappear from my life. But without the fire, it’s harder to test and see if you can trust someone. Will they disappear on me when I need them most like other friends have in the past?

It’s hard to trust when trust has been broken. It’s hard to trust people, it’s hard to trust myself.

So tonight, baring my soul in front of my fellow Young Life leaders, I didn’t know what to do. Should I hide? I’m good at that. Should I let them see? And now that I let them see, what will they do? Will they care? Will they treat my heart gently? Will they ignore it or disappear?

I sit here, hurting. Relieved to have shared but fearful of what reaction they’ll have. Or lack of it. I sit here, shaking and oh so frustrated at how illness broke me.

Maybe you relate. It’s hard to make friends as a chronically ill warrior for so many reasons, but is one of them trust? People hurt you and you don’t want to be hurt again? Oh, but we face pain all day long, can’t we handle a little more hurt? Maybe. But doesn’t it seem like too much to risk? We’ve already been hurt enough.

The thing is, I know these people will hurt me. Because they are human and they can’t be perfect. Even though they are really kind, caring people, I know they will — even unintentionally — hurt me. And I will hurt them.

Most of all, I fear people leaving me or me leaving them. I don’t want to be abandoned by friends like I was in the past. And I don’t want to get close to people just to step into whatever adventure God has for me next.

But is it worth it? Are we willing to risk? Maybe you’re not ready to say yes. And that’s okay. It’s a healing process and it takes time. I don’t even know if I’m ready to say yes or to take this risk. And I still feel like a chameleon in a bag of skittles when it comes to friendships.