I Get It. You Don’t Want To Be My Friend.
Fool me twice, shame on me. That might make sense, except that no one is trying to fool me except for me.
For reasons related to basic psychology, I have a lot of trouble letting go of friendships. As a very shy introvert, (is that redundant?) I don’t make friends easily. Perhaps, with the benefit of over fifty years of hindsight, I see that I don’t really make friends at all. More confident and extroverted people try to get to know me and I respond with gratitude and interest. All that said, I have been very lucky in the friends department.
As a friend, I am loyal, which isn’t always a good thing, but my definition of loyalty was warped.. Sometimes your friends actually want you to tell them that you disagree with them or that you don’t like all of the same things. I struggle with that and it has taken me decades to realize a good friend doesn’t just agree with everything and anything her friend says. But, friendship dynamics are a strange thing. When one person changes their boundaries or behavior, sometimes the friendship can’t survive.
Sometimes friendships naturally fade away, but in those cases, when you do run into each other, or send an occasional text, it is a joy to catch up. In other situations, there is a blowout over something and it is clear that the friendship is over. I avoid blowouts at all costs, but it turns out there is something worse than a clean, sudden break — the slow realization that your friendship isn’t reciprocated anymore. It leaves you with so many questions. Did I do something to make you mad? Is there a stressor in your life that is making it difficult to continue our friendship? Was there a misunderstanding that I could clear up if I just knew about it? Do you hate me now, or just not think of me at all?
So, I find myself grieving, again, because I couldn’t let go even when it was obvious that it was the only answer. I suppose in the end, it doesn’t matter why they don’t want to be my friend. Nothing about this feels good. The standard response — oh it probably has nothing to do with you — is not comforting. Whatever the reason, or non-reason, this is really hard. Maybe that’s why I had to try to connect one more time. Remember that last scene in The Social Network where Mark Zuckerberg is sitting alone, refreshing his browser, hoping for a connection with an old friend? Well, it wasn’t quite that sad, but the slow realization that there wasn’t going to be a response to my email was really, really sad for me and now I can’t shake it.
Once again, I am telling myself to accept the obvious. Once again, I am annoyed that I even feel this sad and once again, I am looking inward, wondering what I can do to take care of myself in a healthy way. There must be a fine line between being so unattached that a loss like this barely registers and having a healthy way to grieve, accept and move on. Obviously, I haven’t made much progress in striking the right balance. Maybe in the next decade . . .
