Friendship
I was close friends and best friends with her for 12 years. I shall call her Sue, just so I can talk freely. She and I met in a writing class and became increasingly close as we both weathered problems in our lives. I admit, I went through more than she did and eventually, after not wanting to ask for help from anyone (see previous post!), I learned to ask her for it when I needed it. Beyond that, she seemed to thrive on giving it, often volunteering to support me when it wasn't asked for or necessary, but it sure was nice. I wasn't used to it. She saw me through my divorce, my depression, my return to school, my return to work, my hysterectomy, and, ultimately, my return to the world of dating and relationships. I saw her through family problems and her return to school. We went shopping together, to movies, and hung out. I spent most Thanksgivings with her, and she came with me on a trip to Britain a few years ago when I went back to visit family and friends.
Last summer, I called her from my lover's home which is 400 miles from mine, and asked her if she would be able to pick me up from the airport when I returned. She declined, with an edge to her voice I found unnerving. She said, "We have to talk." We arranged for her to come over the following week. I became increasingly anxious, with reason, as it turned out. She walked in my front door, handed me the set of my keys she had been keeping, and a hat I had lent her two years ago, and announced, "We're done." We sat on the couch, and she detailed a series of hurts that had accumulated over the past couple of years. I am not perfect, and acknowledge (as I did then) that I had not behaved well on a couple of occasions. I have anxiety and can be very needy sometimes. With other things she raised, I could not see what I had done wrong. She also had some negative things to say about other people in my life. It was a brief talk. She ended by saying she didn't want to shut off our friendship forever, so she wanted us to get together at the end of the summer. We arranged a date, and as she left, she warned me, "You had better show up. If you don't there had better be blood or death as an excuse."
I was dreadfully hurt, not understanding why she had brooded over these issues for so long without raising them. I also felt guilty, realizing that the times that I had hurt her were very much my fault - at least the times for which I accepted culpability. But my overwhelming sense was of being utterly ambushed. I had no idea she was nursing these feelings. I was angry for a while, then gradually, as the summer wore on, got a little inured to the feelings, and more used to her absence in my life. This, after we used to speak several times a week. Early in September we met as agreed. I wept as I hugged her, saying, "I didn't realize how much I missed you." We had lunch and the conversation was strange and stilted. There was a very minor reference to our rift, then we caught up on each other's news. At the end of lunch, we agreed to see each other again, in fact she wanted to ensure we saw each other at least every two weeks. But it hasn't happened. It just wasn't the same. I didn't trust her any more. And she had got on just fine without me.
We have seen each other a couple of times since then, but the friendship is dead, for all intents and purposes. I miss it, but not as much as I might have expected, had anyone predicted a year ago. I feel guilty (a default state for me!) that I hurt her. I feel guilty that I haven't tried harder to resurrect the relationship. Other friends have urged me to keep trying, remembering how close we used to be. But I have no inclination to do so. It's over. I'm not sure I could ever trust the friendship again. And I don't want to. A friend recently sent an e-mail that had the following lines:
"Some people come into your life for a SEASON, because your turn has come to share, grow or learn. They bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it, it is real, but only for a season."
I'm not sure if he wrote them himself, or if he found them somewhere, but they really struck a chord. "Sue" was my friend for a long, lovely, sweet season. Now it's over.
Last summer, I called her from my lover's home which is 400 miles from mine, and asked her if she would be able to pick me up from the airport when I returned. She declined, with an edge to her voice I found unnerving. She said, "We have to talk." We arranged for her to come over the following week. I became increasingly anxious, with reason, as it turned out. She walked in my front door, handed me the set of my keys she had been keeping, and a hat I had lent her two years ago, and announced, "We're done." We sat on the couch, and she detailed a series of hurts that had accumulated over the past couple of years. I am not perfect, and acknowledge (as I did then) that I had not behaved well on a couple of occasions. I have anxiety and can be very needy sometimes. With other things she raised, I could not see what I had done wrong. She also had some negative things to say about other people in my life. It was a brief talk. She ended by saying she didn't want to shut off our friendship forever, so she wanted us to get together at the end of the summer. We arranged a date, and as she left, she warned me, "You had better show up. If you don't there had better be blood or death as an excuse."
I was dreadfully hurt, not understanding why she had brooded over these issues for so long without raising them. I also felt guilty, realizing that the times that I had hurt her were very much my fault - at least the times for which I accepted culpability. But my overwhelming sense was of being utterly ambushed. I had no idea she was nursing these feelings. I was angry for a while, then gradually, as the summer wore on, got a little inured to the feelings, and more used to her absence in my life. This, after we used to speak several times a week. Early in September we met as agreed. I wept as I hugged her, saying, "I didn't realize how much I missed you." We had lunch and the conversation was strange and stilted. There was a very minor reference to our rift, then we caught up on each other's news. At the end of lunch, we agreed to see each other again, in fact she wanted to ensure we saw each other at least every two weeks. But it hasn't happened. It just wasn't the same. I didn't trust her any more. And she had got on just fine without me.
We have seen each other a couple of times since then, but the friendship is dead, for all intents and purposes. I miss it, but not as much as I might have expected, had anyone predicted a year ago. I feel guilty (a default state for me!) that I hurt her. I feel guilty that I haven't tried harder to resurrect the relationship. Other friends have urged me to keep trying, remembering how close we used to be. But I have no inclination to do so. It's over. I'm not sure I could ever trust the friendship again. And I don't want to. A friend recently sent an e-mail that had the following lines:
"Some people come into your life for a SEASON, because your turn has come to share, grow or learn. They bring you an experience of peace or make you laugh. They may teach you something you have never done. They usually give you an unbelievable amount of joy. Believe it, it is real, but only for a season."
I'm not sure if he wrote them himself, or if he found them somewhere, but they really struck a chord. "Sue" was my friend for a long, lovely, sweet season. Now it's over.
posted by Vicky | 6:06 PM
1 Comments:
Vicky, you have a very wise friend.
V
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