This is a hard post to write. It’s about something that has bothered me for a while. It’s been in my head, but I haven’t unlocked the door on my thoughts to fully get the words out here until now. I get upset every time I go there. My heart hurts, I get a little achy, my throat gets choked up and the tears well up in my eyes. OH. FUCK. I’m losing it already. See what you made me do? Now I have boogers all over me. I never cry pretty. Where are the damn tissues?
Got ‘em. Anyway, at this point, I will vacillate between drinking and crying, so I decide to make it easy on myself. Do a little bit of both. If I am lucky, I won’t write a dumb ass Facebook status that makes no sense to me (or anybody else, for that matter) in the morning (See Rule #4 of Facebook Rules.)
I think I am ready to write this though. Will you grab a drink and pull up a chair? Maybe pat me on the back awkwardly if I look like I need it? Don’t get too touchy though. That might be weird.
Ok, here goes.
I have a friend.
Yes, I know. Earth-shattering news. OK, I take that back. I could see why that could surprise you, given some of the shit I say on this blog. But yes, I have friend(s) actually.
I need to stop making jokes.
Just write this. FACE THIS. Get ‘er DONE, Kiran.
Ok. Where was I? Oh yeah, so this friend is someone I considered to be a good friend. Someone whose children I always loved to spoil. Someone who was one of the first to visit our family when both of our children were born. Someone to whom I have turned to on rainy days or when I had an idea in my head that was getting ready to explode. Someone I thought was part of our extended family.
The thing I realize is that I don’t think she ever considered me to be much of a friend. Or perhaps she DID, but stopped somewhere along the way.
Over the past year, my emails go unanswered. Calls and messages have been ignored. Not only has there been no action to reach out to me on her part, but she has completely stopped communicating at all. It makes me feel that I misunderstood our friendship or have done something terrible that I am unaware of. For all I know, it may not even be like that. In her mind, it may not even be a case of my friendship not meaning much, her being upset with me or anything like that at all.
She just moved on. To other friends. Different friends.
It’s weird feeling like… Like you have been completely forgotten.
It started slowly. We’d make dates to meet up, but there was always a reason why she couldn’t meet.
Pretty soon I noticed how long it would take to get a response back on emails. Over time, there were no responses.
Over time, I would berate myself for even thinking anything was off. YET, there was still this nagging feeling. An instinct.
You think, is it in my head? Is this just me being my normal crazy? Cuz I know I am helluva crazy.
But then you realize that this person who used to “like” every picture of your kids on Facebook, who used to have comments on all the pictures you used to share has been conspicuously absent on anything involving any of your family.
But she is not conspicuously absent from Facebook. In fact, she is there a LOT.
You might say “Who GIVES a rat’s ass? Let it go, Kiran. Focus on people who care back.”
I can and DO focus on people who care for me and whom I love. Maybe not as well as I always should, but I still do. That doesn’t still mean that I don’t hurt or mourn the loss of this friendship.
You might think – what if your friend reads this? Won’t she know? Isn’t it easier to just talk to her? The answer is no, I don’t think she will recognize who I am speaking about, I don’t think she will read this post and I have already tried to talk too many times. Besides, this email is not an “outing.” Not at all.
I just have to accept and get rid of this feeling. The best analogy I can come up with is I keep knocking on a door and can hear people inside, the loud voices of a party, but nobody answers the door. I knock again, certain that I hear my friend’s laughter. But still. No answer.
Now, unless I a) want to try and blend in with the doormat b) have ten Papa John’s pizzas that need to get delivered or c) am a fucking stalker, I have to walk away from that door and stop knocking. Because my instincts are right. There is someone peering back at me through the peephole. They just choose not to answer.
Wait a minute. Is this what being on a Mormon mission feels like?
Ah, hell. That sucks. But just for the record, I ALWAYS answer, guys.
I have to accept that I may never get the closure I need. Maybe writing this post will help me. Sometimes life just works that way. You don’t always get a pretty ribbon to tie all the loose ends of your heart up. I need to put my big girl pants on and put a Little Mermaid band-aid over the part of my hand that is raw from all the knocking. I accept that it will heal.
In the meantime, I won’t lock my door. If she wants to knock on it, and come in, she knows where to find me.
Have you ever found yourself in a situation like this?