The More Things Change

Yesterday I had a bit of a meltdown.
You know how moms seem to know exactly what to say, just what buttons to push to make your blood pressure shoot up, your face turn red, your fists clench and your temper come to life? My mom is very skilled at this exercise; she pulls it out at the most unexpected and often inopportune times, then acts like she didn't know what she was doing.
Please.
This is not my first rodeo, lady.
Anyway, she pulled one of those maneuvers on me yesterday, when I was literally minutes from going upstairs to get ready for Bailey's engagement party. What she said is not important, I don't even think it was anything that huge; it was just one of those things that she knows drives me insane. I think we all have them, and they're probably often unique to each of our lives and our individual relationships with mommy dearest.
So, she pushes my button just enough to get a big reaction out of me, but then she just can't stop. She pushed a little more, and then the dam broke. I totally lost it, fell apart completely. Here comes the crazy part, though: when I got down to the nitty gritty, I realized it wasn't about my mom at all.
Horror of horrors, it was much worse than that.
I've had a hard couple of weeks and haven't been able to get focused on school or get on a regular schedule. I'm tired all the time, but I can't sleep; I don't want to do anything productive. I've been what I guess you could call melancholy, but I finally think I've seen clear of my funk.
When it comes right down to it, I think a lot of this stems from one thing: I'm sad Becca is moving. There, I said it. I know, I know... she's only moving two hours away, I can see her all the time. But here's the thing: since Becca and I met in third grade, we've been best friends, and, more than that, we've never lived more than twenty minutes apart.
I don't really know why her moving has hit me so hard, but I've just had a really hard time getting okay with it. Maybe it's because we've been through so much together in the last fifteen years? We've vacationed with each other's families; we survived junior high dance team together; we lived through high school together, college transitions, pledging different sororities, and graduations; we've been together through hard times in both our families; we've told each other about every crush, every bad date; we've traveled together; we've told and re-told our stories hundreds of times; we've grown up together, and we've told each other everything. Sometimes the sheer magnitude of our friendship overwhelms me.
So, I've admitted that I'm not the biggest proponent of change, and now that I've admitted the real backbone behind what's been wrong with me the last few weeks, I think I'm okay. Although I was on the brink of losing it yesterday, I've got it all in perspective now. You see, it's like this: Becca and I have always said that we function better as a team; for whatever reason, it's just that simple. I know that's not going to change because there's a couple of hours between us; our friendship is just too strong for that.