For those of you following along over the last few months, the good news is that my move to the Wilmington area has been quite a success. I’ve been able to spend warm and sunny September and October days on Wrightsville Beach, I picked up a part time job at a local bistro for nights and weekends to keep me occupied and my cat is happy with her new balcony. I think I made the right choice. The bad news? I lost a friend in the process.
I didn’t lose a friend due to my move. Truthfully, I’m not sure exactly what happened. What I initially believed was a misunderstanding after weeks of distance turned into me being met with deafening silence and coldness once I sought clarity. To be left hanging by a best friend of 28 years is jarring and makes me question my character, likability as a person and most of my life choices. I know she has her own struggles with depression unrelated to me that are contributing to her disengagement, but I didn’t think we’d get to this point. I understand depression firsthand, and hurt people hurt people. With my trust issues having been inflamed following a rather toxic dating experience over the last year, I am left to assume my need for reassurance in response to emotional distance clashed with her overwhelm, depression and grief from a prior relationship ending. However, in the aftermath of the friendship implosion, I am left feeling like I was (yet again) too much and holding the emotional bag. It’s a wound a little too familiar for my liking.
I’ve woken up feeling like I got hit by a train numerous mornings after romantic breakups but didn’t expect a friendship breakup to carry the same emotional hangover. Radical acceptance is not easy for me as I tend to wrestle with reality when I am hurt, and feeling shut out by her has been a surreal experience. In my early 20s, a couple of my friends and I drifted apart due to natural distance or tiffs, but we always found our way back in some capacity. This time feels less hopeful.
Having to adjust to the “new normal” of someone’s absence – well, the absence of someone still alive but simply choosing not to respond to your messages – stings when it’s sudden and confusing. Fortunately, I have had new acquaintances enter my life through my move and work, and I seem to be well received at my new job. However, would their opinion or acceptance of me also change if they got to know the real me outside of work? Trying to reassure myself that I am not the sole issue in the breakdown of a friendship is another full time job in and of itself.
The communication I received from her in response to my questions about the state of our friendship and her distance didn’t even sound like something she had written herself and took nearly 30 dreadful hours to land in my inbox. It was one message that didn’t address the insecurities I expressed or the inconsistencies I had picked up on; to put it briefly, she stated that my questioning whether she cared about our friendship was hurtful to her and that she hoped we would eventually “come to a conclusion” when we are both in better emotional places.
Somewhat stunned upon reading and attempting to process her reply, I immediately followed up by explaining that I didn’t understand what was going on and asked exactly what she meant by that, but she never answered. Perhaps she interpreted my questions as attacks rather than bids for reassurance. Or, perhaps, I wouldn’t question whether she cared had she not suddenly began acting as if she didn’t – but that’s just a thought. I may be annoying, but I’m not entirely delusional.
Once this happened, I started mentally beating myself up. If I hadn’t gotten into that last toxic relationship, I wouldn’t have become so insufferable and pushed her away. I’m a self-fulfilling prophecy. This is why I’m still single at 33. I am the problem.
Fortunately, the support systems I do still have around me (at least for the time being) have assisted in combating those negative thoughts, but they’re always lurking in the background and waiting to take hold of my brain at any given moment. If she happens to stumble upon this article, I hope she understands that this column is about the realities of “growing up” and, well, this is one of those curveballs. To relinquish control and accept friendship defeat for the foreseeable future has been a tough pill to swallow to say the least. At the end of the day, I know I tried to communicate and seek repair, and I can live with that. I hope when she overcomes her depression that she still finds me where she left me, but I can’t promise she will. If and when that happens, I may be found in rooms with people who deem me worthy of a conversation.
