Being Depressed while Pregnant...

To be perfectly honest, I am balling right now (kinda) as I write this. Earlier at work today, I caught note of my 10 year high school reunion. In many ways, this hit me HARD. Why? Oh so many reasons... 
First off, I was always the band/bowler geek in high school. I had many "fake" friends and a select few I had held as true friends and best friends. I am now only friends with two of those people and both live far enough away that, sometimes, it feels like they don't even count either. I am one of those people from high school who (mostly) remembers everybody, yet I'll bet hardly no one really remembers me outside my name and what organizations and clubs I belonged to. I was practically ghosted by the entire "popularity" group before ghosting became a word we use. Not too many from class showed interest in getting to know the real me. And I spent most of those 4 years and the 10 years to follow...simply puzzled as to why that is and was. 

I won't name any names since I am actually "Facebook" friends with a handful of you, however I can recall a time when each and every one of you showed me false friendship through elementary, middle, and high school. And to be honest, I fell for it! And I hated myself for it. Yes, I too fell into the Popular trap where I had thought just for a split second that those girls would actually want to be my friend. But I was wrong..so WRONG. I was just used as a science partner, a math tutor, a volleyball partner, etc. Just for the duration of whatever activity or class we were paired up with involuntarily. I assumed you were making the best of the situation, and you were, not understanding the repercussions that it would greatly affect me for years to come. Hell, ANYTIME someone I went to high school with bumps into me in public, I always get the feeling that they are only being nice because, well, we are adults now, and two, that you are trying to make up for how you treated me a decade ago. 
Even the friends whom I did have back in high school, probably turned away from me because they could not handle the real shit I was going through, and I had to go through it ALONE. Or, at least, at times, without friends, it sure felt like it. I mean, when my brother died, I ad my family and my sister-in-law and nephews, but we were all going through our own way of dealing with the pain. Over the years, it became taboo to talk about him. Now, we can all talk (mostly) about him without tearing up, thought sometimes it is still very HARD. I remember, right after he died, all my friends and high school boyfriend came over to comfort me. I did not however feel very comforted. All we did was sit in complete silence (and laughter) watching Jeff Dunham's Christmas Special. No talking, no "everything will be okay," talk. NOTHING. 
That is one of the first times I had to learn that "not everyone has the same heart as you." Not everyone is going to treat you with the same respect and love as you give them. 

Today, I am truly happy. I have the most wonderful husband in the world. I never feel depressed or sad when he is around. I do not understand depression. All I know is ever since Jerome passed, every now and then, I just have these balling outbursts. Most if the time, I am by myself. I like having my husband here when I do have those outbursts, because he comforts me when I need it most. 
I do believe it when some not anymore friends of mine spread cryptic messages on Facebook, saying that I am a total bitch who uses her friends to get what she wants, a drunk who only likes to go to wild parties, a user who leaves when the chips are down and life gets rough, etc. 
If you believe that, then yes, we cannot be friends. 
I cannot be friends with someone who believes what comes out of anybody else's mouth other than my own. 
I cannot be friends with someone who flat out lies about me just to make my pathetic life so more interestingly pathetic. No, I do not like to go to wild parties; I did frequent a bar a few years back, but mainly it was to hang out with friends and have a good time. 
I cannot be friends with someone who believe I am a drunk. If you truly believe that, you have never met a true drunk. 
I do not care to be friends with someone who lies and then chooses to take money from me and burn the bridge to our friendship. 
I need a friend whom I can call up on a random day and just chat for as long as we can. I need a friend who takes time to learn and see the real me, scars, tears, and all. I am by no means perfect, nor would I ever pretend to be. 
For all I know, this is only the pregnancy depression talking, but one of the hardest lessons I have had to learn is sometimes people do move on, not because they hated or disliked me, but because life took them in a different direction and, without wanting to, forced them to leave me behind. 

In high school, I did truly and wholeheartedly believe that I was invisible. 
10 years has not yet changed that.