Friend Breakups
I cannot be friends with you anymore.
“Hey, can we meet out by the steps in the parking lot after service?”
It was Sunday. The praise team was already gearing up to lead us through that morning’s playlist of Christian soft-pop worship. Pastor John was adjusting his tie at the pulpit. He would launch into his scripted opening prayer in a moment, so I leaned in to my friend’s ear and repeated,
“The steps. In the parking lot. Meet you there after service?”
“Friend” she was, at that moment. But at the conclusion of our rendezvous at the parking lot steps, she would exit my life.
Or, so I hoped.
I’d made the decision to break things off with her earlier that morning. In a terse conversation right outside the service room door, she’d interrupted me to call me “an idiot” for some purported oversight. This was her habit–openly deriding me for every infraction, small or large, real or imagined. Calling me “an idiot” in a public place (church), where many people (who knew us both) could overhear–those words had been a guillotine, beheading our friendship more effectively than a floaty “let them eat cake,” and she didn’t even know it yet.
While the decision–on its face–seemed spur of the moment, the truth was, it had been a long time coming. She wasn’t just in the habit of calling me names. She was also demanding–calling me 15 times a day (thank goodness texting didn’t exist then), requiring my presence practically around the clock. I was only in junior high, so the concept of “sustainable relationships” wasn’t something I could articulate. I just knew I couldn’t handle her much longer.
Omma had been coaching me through what to say for months–“just tell her ‘I’m sorry, I cannot be friends with you anymore.'” Yes, I knew it would be much easier for me to not say anything and simply fade out of her life; but I also knew I would never be able to look at myself in the mirror if I “ghosted her” (though that phrase didn’t exist at that time–neither did cell phones).
Even if she thought I was an idiot.
I won’t regale you with the “how did you guys meet” story. This is, after all, a story about how it ended. Suffice it to say, she obliged and met me at the designated meeting spot shortly after service. My heart thudded, sweat poured, and tears were streaming down both our faces towards the end. I said to her, just as Omma had coached, “I’m sorry, I cannot be friends with you anymore.” But I didn’t leave it at that. I told her I couldn’t handle the stress of it: all the name-calling, the constant telephone calls, the neediness. I expected her to disagree with me (which, I knew, from experience, she was amply and loudly capable of).
But, shockingly, she wiped away her tears and kept silent until all the words I could think of dried up.
“Is that all?” she asked quietly.
I nodded.
Without another word, she swiveled around and walked swiftly back to the sprawling brick building on Kimball Avenue, under whose roof she and I had met years earlier.
And with that, she was out of my life.
At least for a while. I was 13 years old at the time. I would encounter her again years later when she was a senior in college and I was already in law school. She invited me over to her apartment. She made me zucchini jeon. I was cordial. She was overly cheerful. We’ve been Facebook friends ever since. I’ve often wondered about all the words she kept bottled up and unsaid on the parking lot steps. We never talked about it, though. And, to be honest, I was so relieved, I didn’t spend too much time mulling it over.
It wasn’t until 2022, when I was on the receiving end of a friend breakup that I started thinking of her again.
In March 2022…
I was coming off the high of another finish line–the NYC half marathon (many of you actually donated to my fundraising campaign for that!)–and getting ready for a 3-hour flight back home to Chicago. After sliding into my seat on the plane, buckling up, I typed a quick text to my friend, letting her know I was leaving New York but it had been so great catching up with her a few nights earlier. “I finished the half marathon!” I typed into the phone, before hitting “send.”
Her reply was prompt. But clipped: “Congrats on the half. Peace.”
I felt like I’d been punched right in the softest part of my belly. All the wind whooshed out of me as my stomach curled inwards. The roar of the airplane engines, the chatter of fellow passengers, roller boards finding purchase in the overhead–all of it faded away and was replaced with a high pitched whine.
I showed the text to Anthony sitting next to me. He read it over. Shrugged. “What? It sounds like she’s just busy.”
I wanted to believe him. I looked back down at my phone. Right above our most recent exchange, you could see my friend’s propensity to end every single text with heart emojis and smiley faces. She used full, long, nurturing sentences. She’d never once ended a text with “Peace.”
A few weeks later, we would both learn that Anthony was wrong. My gut had been right. “Peace” had been more than a “bye, for now.” It was a “bye, for good.” She stopped communicating with me, uninvited me from events, discontinued interacting with me on social media.
And thus ensued one of the most difficult years of my life.
Let me stop here a moment and explain that this “most difficult year” was not just because of the Friend Breakup. It was also the year my Rudy died. A month after Rudy passed away, I came down with COVID and was forced to isolate myself from Anthony and my family for weeks (I continued testing positive for 21 days). Grief is private, but I hadn’t anticipated having to muck through it so actually alone. I had a lot to cry about, and sometimes, when sad things happen in succession, you feel like you’ll never come out of the sad. Like I described last week–a “chronic case of the blues.”
But back to the breakup. I have so many thoughts on this, I’m going to organize them into bullets:
The Friend Breakup affected me way more than I expected.
I was surprised at how much it affected me. In some ways, it hurt almost as much as getting dumped by a romantic partner. 2022 was also the year I packed up my entire life in Chicago and moved to California (like I said, it was a big year). I remember squatting on the kitchen floor to pick up and pack away a bunch of unplugged TV cables. Running through my head was the inner dialogue that had been looping on repeat since “Peace.” I burst into tears, white knuckling the thick cables, still kimchi-squatting in the middle of my half-empty kitchen. Anthony ran in, “What’s wrong?” he asked, alarmed. “I just wish I knew what I did to make her hate me so much,” I sobbed. “What’s wrong with me?” He pulled me off the ground and I cried into his hoodie.
It took me a full year to develop sufficient detachment not to cry every time I thought about the Friend Breakup. This was way longer than I expected.
I never learned what precipitated the Friend Breakup.
To this day, I do not know, with certainty, what caused the Friend Breakup. I have my theories, but they are, presently, just theories. Apparently, she determined that whatever friendship we’d had didn’t merit any explanation for its demise. This, of course, contributed to the hamster wheel of my emotions. I was obsessively picking over the clues (there was very little to go on), constantly playing over our last–very friendly–encounter, asking myself, “Was it when I did this?” or “Could I have done that?” or “Why the FUCK did I do THIS?” Even Anthony started to wonder whether he had done something to piss her off (“maybe I should have offered to pay for dinner?”).
The Friend Breakup became a full-blown existential crisis.
Part of the reason it affected me more than I expected was because, in a very short period of time, my former friend’s “ghosting” and the digestive turmoil it caused on the airplane exploded into a full-blown existential crisis. My ex-friend had, for some reason, judged me deficient in some important way–important enough that she was willing to not just exile me to the fringe of her social circle (low-lift maintenance friendship: annual birthday texts, a like here and there on Instagram, polite hellos should we bump into each other), but to totally cast me out of her life. You can get dumped and still believe you’re a good person (“he’s just not attracted to me,” or “he’s found someone else,” or “we’re just not right for each other”). But, implicit in her nuclear decision was that there was some profound moral failing in my character.
The evaluation that prompted her to cut me out was, of course, linked (in my mind) to those things that initially deemed me worthy enough to be her friend in the first place. Without belaboring (once more) the “how we met” story, she initially reached out to me because of my book. We shared a lot in common, including the fact that we both (in our own ways) advocated for the Asian American community.
I think that’s what made her judgment of me all the more powerful–I looked up to her. She was, in every sense of the word, not just my friend, but my mentor. And for the duration of our friendship, she treated me almost like a little sister. I don’t have enough time in this newsletter to go into the unique nature of an “unni-dongseng” or “sunbae-hoobae” relationship; but, for a culture that is very dependent on hierarchy, even in personal relationships, ours was not an ordinary friendship. At least, not to me.
I am the eldest sibling and cousin in the United States (on my mother’s side) and my mother is also the eldest sibling (also in the United States). I am the oldest child of my father, who is, in turn, the oldest of his family. I have, as a result, viewed myself as the safety net and “noonah” (older sister) to my generation of my family almost my entire life–particularly so as our parents have aged. Thus, I have trouble depending on people. I’m self-sufficient, to a fault. Discovering a friendship that allowed me, a little bit, to depend on an Unni (an older sister) was, in many ways, potentially life changing.
But because I assumed her rejection of me was also an indirect expression of her regret–an “Oh, I was so obviously wrong about all the good I thought I saw in you,” my mind automatically assumed I wasn’t a good writer, I wasn’t a good advocate, I wasn’t a good friend, I wasn’t a good person.
And of course, it was really hard (almost impossible) not to agree with the assessment of someone I still admired so goddamn much.
Thank goodness for Anthony et al.
Anthony is not a knight in shining armor. He’s not the kind of guy who would punch someone in the face if they called me a ch**k (that’s something his brother David would do). And, recall–he originally thought I was making a big deal out of nothing (a fact that, unfortunately, has made me far more skeptical of his read on social situations of this sort). But one of the best things about being married to Anthony is that I can take shelter in his abundant confidence.
I don’t know a single person on this planet who is as confident as my husband. I always joke, “my husband is extremely confident, borderline arrogant…?” Some people might say, “well, yes, he is a CIS straight white guy.” Fair enough. But he’s my CIS straight white guy. On one hand, I had my ex-friend’s evaluation of me. But I soon realized that her judgment of me was simply no contest for Anthony’s 1,000,000% certainty that I was not just a good person, but that I was good enough to be his person.
And I also knew that, in the end, he was not just very disappointed in my former friend’s behavior, he was ticked off. Obviously, it was heartbreaking for him to see me crying on our kitchen floor; but, he also deemed my friend’s behavior woefully deficient, independent of how it affected me. This kind of objectivity is precisely why he was never my knight. He doesn’t come to my defense when people troll me in the comments. He doesn’t get in anyone’s face if they get in mine. He’s fairly dispassionate about whether someone is out of line and he’s confident in my ability to handle it when they are. This sort of objectivity can be frustrating, sure, but man-oh-man, it meant a whole lot more when he reassured me, “There is nothing wrong with you, babe. But there is quite a lot wrong with her.”
In addition to Anthony, I had a few close friends who rallied. Some were terrifically angry on my behalf and I confess, I found it quite soothing at the time. Other friends quietly but firmly supported me through what was not just an obviously difficult time, but a horrible year all around–listening to me as I wobbled through the whole story, offering kind words, but, more importantly, just sticking around as they watched me fall apart–not just through the Friend Breakup, but through Rudy’s death. In one case, our close friends even invited me to grieve over both inside the sanctuary of their beautiful home for a few days.
Their friendship reminded me and taught me: “this is what real friendship looks like.”
My conclusion: It’s her, not me.
No matter how many amazing people assured me, over and over again, “it’s her, not you,” I had to find a path towards believing it. For me, that path was compassion.
I could spend a lifetime on that hamster wheel, playing the final scenes of our tragically cut-short story over and over again, never really sure about what led to its dissolution. Or, I could cut my losses and walk away. The only way I could do that was to assume that something was going on in my friend’s life–something that prevented her from being the kind, warm, loving woman I thought I’d known. I’m not gonna lie and say I don’t harbor any resentment towards her. It’s only been a couple years, after all, and it really stung that she didn’t even reach out to say anything when Rudy died. But until I was provided with evidence to the contrary, I gave myself permission to believe:
“I’m a good person, even if she thinks I’m not. I’m a good friend, even if she thinks I’m not. I am worthy, even if she thinks I’m not.”
Were there lessons I could learn from this situation about being a better friend? Perhaps. But, until she’s willing to talk to me about what it was that upset her so much, I am done playing that game. Plus, far more important were the lessons I learned about how to protect myself from ever allowing anyone to have so much power over my self-worth.
Although I’ve been open about my imposter syndrome here and my efforts to develop a “Joanne 2.0” who isn’t so shy and believes she deserves to occupy the space that she does, I hadn’t known I’d been walking on unacceptably thin ice. All it took was one Friend Breakup to shatter my confidence and, had it not been for Anthony and my friends who, thank God, were there to pull me out of my despair, who knows how long I would have wallowed in misery?
The Friend Breakup taught me that self-sufficiency is more than just having a tidy savings account or the ability to write my own legal contracts.
It’s also an understanding and belief that Joanne’s friendship—wow, it’s worthwhile and pretty darn special. And anyone who would so carelessly throw it overboard? Well, that person probably wasn’t as worthy of me as I had originally thought.
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Parting Thoughts
“We better get going,” Yemin said. The words signaled the end of Thanksgiving. All my cousins, my brother, and his wife rose slowly from their seated positions on the floor of my parents’ living room sectional and began to gather their things. Only my 6-year-old nephew, Liam, oblivious to the reshuffling of bodies around him, remained knelt on the floor, his small hands still gripping two of the fat markers my mother had given him a few minutes earlier. But soon, even that spell was broken when my brother announced, “C’mon Liam. It’s time to go.”
My aunt got up from the dining room table–the post-dinner “adult area” from time immemorial–where she’d been chatting with my mother, both their hands curled around now cool mugs of green tea. Her flannel skirt slid gracefully over the hardwood as she bent over to gather her aging shih-tzu, Eddy, who’d been dozing in the bed she’d brought with him. Omma, too, got up from the chair she’d been occupying for the past hour, as her guests began heading to the front door.
There, we all paused for the “reshodding” that occurs in most Asian households. I snapped a quick pic of all the shoes that had piled up over the course of the evening. I loved the sight of them so much, it almost brought me to tears. It always, always, reminded me of how my family showed up and helped me pack my things the morning I finally left my first marriage. Of course, at that time, the mini Nikes hadn’t been part of the pile, I thought to myself.
It was cold, but I stepped out the screen door wearing Anthony’s sneakers and my sweater-jacket. Omma and Anthony stayed inside with Lulu, but I wanted to stretch these final moments to their limit. Hyungsung and Cheemin were already warming up their cars. Jasmine was still packing up a few things behind me. “It’s snowing,” I called out to no one. Indeed, fat flakes landed on my outstretched hands, dissolved into the soft folds of my poofy jacket. “It’s snowing,” I repeated to myself as I looked up into a swirl of white lace falling delicately from the black sky.
“By Unni!” Young Jung called, as she packed Liam into the backseat of their white sedan. “Bye, Joanne!” Jaesun’s voice came on her heels. I waved with big, swinging arcs over my head. “Bye guys! Bye Liam!” I stepped onto the deserted street and swiveled around to face Hyunsung’s car. “Bye Hyungsung!” I called, pumping my arms over my head until I could see his small face in the dim light of his car, his hand waving through the windshield until he pulled away from the curb. I turned again to face Cheemin, Jasmine now safely packed in. “Bye guys!! Bye!” “Bye!” they called back, as they backed out of my parents’ driveway. Last to leave was my aunt, carrying Eddy in her arms. “Bye Eemo! Bye Eddy!” and she replied, “Bye, Joannie!” using the name her daughter Jasmine had given me when she was just learning to speak–a truncated version of “Joanne Unni.”
And before I knew it, the chorus of goodbyes concluded, the taillights of my Eemo’s SUV were winking out beyond the curve in the road. The big grapefruit I carried inside my body, the same one that appeared at the sight of my family’s shoes, swelled in my throat until my ears began to ache and I was standing there, still, with nothing but the snow pedaling their soft feet into my damp face.
Wishing you all the best,
Joanne
This spoke to me on so many levels, both as the initiator and recipient. Since taking a long-overdue sabbatical from a high stress job, I turned my focus inward and gave myself time to truly examine all aspects of my life (professionally and personally), and made several realisations that I don’t think would have surfaced if not for the mental space I allowed myself unapologetically. I realised that it’s not my responsibility to make others change but I can choose to either adjust my expectations and accept them into my life or not. If they detract or don’t enhance or uplift me, I have the power to walk away without guilt. You alone get to decide who you want in your life, and the company you keep is a matter of choice, one that supports and respects you. Longevity should not be a factor, especially if either or both parties have evolved.
A recent example: I maintained a friendship with a group since elementary school and although we’ve all moved to different cities/countries, we’ve lead vastly differently lives but still managed to keep in touch and meet several times annually for a girls’ reunion. I’ve always been closer to two of the friends and our conversations have always been easy, picking up where we left off like no time has passed. In a reunion a few years ago, there seemed to be a very different vibe amongst the remaining friend group (a competitive bunch), and I was made to feel like a scapegoat for everything that went wrong that weekend (the weather, the venue, a mix-up with a dinner reservation, a spa fiasco etc) even though I was not the organiser. I then made the decision to be excluded from future comms regarding reunions, which one of the more vocal friends took to mean that I no longer wished to be their friend (not the intention, but it was framed as such and several jumped on that bandwagon). In any case, I’m still close with the two aforementioned friends and asked that they respect my privacy amongst the rest. I’ve not heard a peep about whatever shenanigans they’ve been up to and am better for it.
Another example: I had a friend who always seemed to be ‘present’ when she was single or not in a stable relationship (oh, you know the type). Well, I’ve ‘saved’ her by being the mover/getaway driver on two break-ups where she could not bear to face the person but rather ‘pack up and leave’ when the other party was at work. Yet the moment she finds her latest partner, she’s MIA unless she needs to kill time in between dates (currently a long-distance relationship and she’s out of town every other week). The last straw was finding out that I was her mother’s emergency contact after receiving a call that ‘mum’ was involved in a collision. Did my due diligence because it was the right thing to do, but made my sentiments known that I didn’t appreciate this one-sided friendship and wished her well.
Thank you for this post. I’ve always been mesmerized at how honest kids can be. As a teacher, I’ve witnessed friendships starting to ending in matter of one recess out on the playground – do you want to be my friend to I don’t want to be your friend anymore. And while it may sound thoughtless and harsh, I think this kind of clarity is what a lot of adults can’t do. I have to be honest and say I have not been clear in a few of my friendships and have also been on the receiving end of breakups – more like being ghosted or friends wanting to redefine the level of closeness when you truly feel like you have been giving your all yet that hasn’t been enough to the other person. This kind of friendship has been the hardest to heal from for me and like you, it just makes you think all irrational unkind thoughts about yourself. I know in the end I have to befriend myself and believe I am a good friend and I am doing my best, but because friendships are vulnerable and we give of ourselves, the hurt lingers and it chips away at every good thing we try so hard in building up. I also know a good friend will see that friendships evolve & change as we all do, and without grace no good friendship can last.
Wanna thank you for this beautiful post, as it is reminder that we are not only one that have this problem and is hard to talk about as well.
For the first time i am out of my closet to write a comment regarding about this, 2 friendship ended in the same year. One i met since childhood and another during my work. They just stop messaging me without any sign, from a long text of message and to totally end of conversation after reading the last message of mine. They even block me from every aspect of social media. It was hard time for me to process everything when i realize is over, as i was fighting CPTSD at that moment. Is hard, but as i realize, the problem was never about me but we have different perspective and i am glad to walk out of it.
This post hit me square in the gut. I had a friend that I met at work. We would talk on the phone multiple times a day. I went to her wedding in DR, did numerous events at her house. Her marriage was on the rocks and she started an affair after meeting someone at work. We were on the phone and she was calling herself a scorned woman. She never told me of any instance that her husband was cheating on her. She had some vague suspicions but no hard proof. So, what must have been the hundredth time she called herself a scorned woman, I reminded her that she was not. She screamed at me so loudly that years later I could still hear her voice in my ear. And just like that, I was ghosted. It hurt more than any romantic breakup I’ve ever had. To this day, we have not been close. I will text her holiday or birthday wishes from time to time but that is as far at it goes. I don’t have the type of relationships that most women have. I feel as though I am too much. So I stay alone.
I’ve lived long enough to have this happen to me half a dozen times, though there was only one occasion when the friend simply stopped communicating and didn’t explain herself. That one stung particularly because her brother, who was also a friend, died without anyone telling me about it. Knowing people’s reasons, however, doesn’t necessarily clarify anything. Nearly always someone has been in a snit about something relatively unimportant or even unfathomable (“You left your china cabinet with me for a year when you were between houses; I came to like it, and you didn’t let me keep it.”). Then there was (from a thirtysomething woman) “My mother doesn’t like you.”
I confess that I was once the person who broke up the relationship, but I did these friends the courtesy of telling them why. After the 2016 election, when I learned that they had voted for He Who Must Not Be Named, I couldn’t regard them with anything resembling benevolence. It felt to me as if they had voted to destroy my country, if not the world.
If any one of these three were to come to me saying that they had made a terrible mistake, I’d take them back in a heartbeat.
I almost never comment on things (not in the paper, not here) but your post really resonated with me. In grad school, which was one of the hardest parts of my life, I was in a trio of friends. we did so many things together, were there for each other when one’s fiance (who turned out to be an ass) got cancer, and even beyond, as we all struggled with the world post school. But along the way (maybe it was always), one of the trio always had to be in the spotlight. she got mad when we talked about our work when she went into another field. she was exuberant, enthusiastic at times and then putting other people down. nothing was ever her fault. I had several conversations with her about how I felt, but they always ended up with her being the victim. in the end, I had to write her a letter, since I couldn’t do it any other way. I’m sure she had no idea it was coming-when you can only think of yourself in your world, how you impact other people doesn’t really factor into your thinking. I still think about her and wonder if she’s changed. the third part of our trio I think managed to keep good boundaries and stayed friends with her.
Elizabeth, I feel incredibly honored that you elected to share here, given that it isn’t normally your thing. I think it speaks to how relatable this situation is for many of us! I’m also really glad you shared your story because it’s from the other side. I think you handled this situation with integrity–you had not one but multiple uncomfortable conversations with this person with the hope of saving the friendship. But, as you concluded, some relationships have an expiration date, however hard we try to cut out the parts that don’t work for us. It’s possible she’s changed–the friend I “broke up” with when I was a teenager–she seemed to change, especially after she became a mother. Thank you so much for sharing your story Elizabeth. Definitely provides food for thought!
First of all, know that you are an amazing person, not just because you write beautifully but because you are honest enough to share your foibles.
A friend of mine, that I had known since I was 14 decided I wasn’t worth her time. This was after 50 years of friendship. It’s interesting because she retired finally and made the choice to end the relationship. In retrospect, I had grown tired of her constant complaining about her job, but didn’t know how to let her know.
Nonetheless, I was very hurt and asked her sister, who I’m friends with, what the heck happened? She said that her sister was in a different space and that she was in a new season of her life.
OK, while I appreciate that, it’s pretty crummy when someone dumps on you and then when they decide that they want to be free of that energy, they just throw you out with the bathwater.
It really stung for a number of months, but I wish her well and I also realize it feels good not to have to hear her complain! If you can’t be yourself with somebody then they aren’t really a friend. They’re just an acquaintance no matter how long you’ve had a “friendship “
Lisa, this was the kindest message. Thank you so much. And I love that you’re ok with me showing my foibles because I’m terrible at hiding them! I also think it speaks to your strength that you can lean into the silver lining to this situation (no more complaining!!). And that is so true–I’m going to borrow it: “if you can’t be yourself with somebody then they aren’t really a friend.” When I think about the closest friends I have, including my husband, the break through moment in our relationships weren’t these epic, earth shattering turning points. They were, in fact, far more mundane: when I could let down my guard and just be me. Thank you for weighing in Lisa!! <3
I feel like I’m being teased or it is a slow friendship death. We have been friends for almost 30 years. I noticed she was saying some mean things and had stopped asking me over but then I went away for 9 months and didn’t really think of it. Again with some nasty comments when I was back so I decided not to contact her and just wonder what I’d done wrong.
Then she made an effort to reach out and catch up so I went but I’m wary. Last time she invited me out but with lots of other friends which I’ve read is a sign of an end of a friendship. I’m back to not contacting her. I think the friendship will end but I feel that I grieved for it a couple of years ago.
I do want to ask why but in another way I’m worried about what she will say. I’m very self aware and have low confidence. But I don’t think I could take another confidence blow.
Kitty, I can SO relate to your statement “I do want to ask why but in another way I’m worried about what she will say.” MAN. I feel that so hard!! It took me a whole year to work up the courage to ask my friend “why” (she declined to explain) BECAUSE I was already so hurt, so wounded, I feared that whatever she might say would literally knock me down. And I think it’s totally ok if you take time and listen to your instincts on this one. Protect yourself. You’ve already been dealt a blow–no need to compound that–now or ever. I wish you all the best with your situation! <3
THIS. Thank you for sharing your story, it’s one of those subjects that I feel are not as touched upon as its better known counterpart (the romantic breakup). I also had something similar happen a few years ago within my group of closest girlfriends and to this day, we still don’t know what happened. One day, she was there and the next day she wasn’t. I also found out from the other girls that she went radio silent with them as well. (It also didn’t help that it was also during COVID.)
I still have the door open in case she does want to come back into my life (I still text her happy birthday since her birthday is a few days before mine), but I do know that it’ll be unlikely that she’ll be back. Some may call me crazy, but heart is sensitive in nature when it comes to people, feelings, and relationships (whether it be friendship or romance) and I find it hard to cut people out of my life. Admittedly, it’s still a bit painful to fully digest it, but I’m choosing to move forward while also cherishing the good times we did have together. It does suck that she’s no longer there, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that the times together were a waste nor do the moments and memories together become nightmares. We will live and continue to move forward, and there will be new people that come in as others step out.
Kirs, I think it’s really amazing that you have the maturity to cherish the good, while also nursing hurt. I’m definitely not at that point, yet. it sounds like in your case, though, that your friend must have been going through something that made her feel like she needed to pull inwards… I’ve actually heard from many “ghosters” (i.e., those who did the ghosting) telling me that they did so because they were forced to by their partners or their mental health was suffering and they couldn’t handle socializing. It’s hard not to center ourselves when these things happen, but sometimes, once we’ve moved past the initial phases of hurt and anger, it actually helps to believe that it’s really them, not us… Thanks again for sharing Kirs!
I’m sorry you had to go through a friend breakup. But even if it’s painful at first – my opinion is that it’s not your fault. Otherwise you would have had a talk with your friend and then it might have resulted in a breakup. I’ve also experienced something like this: I had a great evening with a long-term friend and then she absolutely never contacted me again. Unfortunately, I don’t know what went wrong that evening. I tried to have a clarifying conversation, but I never got a reply again. So I say to myself that it’s her fault and try to put the matter behind me: “Schwamm drüber”, as they say in German (= forget it).
Anja, you are too too kind! I also love how direct you are!! “It’s her fault”! I do think it helps to remember that I did everything I could and therefore, I don’t have anything to regret anymore. It sounds like your experience was very similar to mine. I, too, had a lovely evening with her and two days later, I was cut off for reasons I was never provided. I don’t know that I can “forget it,” but I have definitely learned not to let it affect me so much! Thanks for weighing in!
Losing a friend — esp when you don’t know why — hurts so much. It’s hard to move past it when you have no idea what you did. Therefore, I make a point of letting people know if they’ve done something to offend me! If someone asks me why we’re no longer friends, I tell them. Oftentimes, miscommunication plays a role, esp when it’s a long-distance friendship based on texting, email, and social media. Your example, “I just finished the half marathon” text, could have reached your friend at a bad time. Perhaps she was waiting for YOU to express love and friendship and joy at having just spent time with her. Who knows. Sometimes, we just have to let it go, but in my experience, it will hurt forever.
Bette–it does hurt so much!! And I agree: texting and social media has really turned “communication” on its head (hence the rant on texting I shared a couple weeks ago!). Sadly, I don’t think it was that at all, in my case. She was very clear that she just didn’t want me in her life. And, as you alluded to, it wounded me quite horribly. I’m intrigued by the idea of “letting it go” even if it “hurt[s] forever.” Kind of like grief. You can move on from losing a loved one, even while continuing to hurt from it. Thanks for sharing, Bette!
The friend break up and with no closure or notice is actually a thing. There have been articles in the NYT written about this (and elsewhere), and many people have gone through this. Who knew? When it happened to me, I didn’t know this was a thing, and like your friend, my friend just stopped communicating with me – to the point where I thought something happened to her or she got into an accident and I called her other close friend to confirm she was ok (I lived in a different state). It has been over 20 years, and I still think about it to this day. I asked her to share why, but she refused, and to this day, she has been silent and has never reached out. I agree with you; without closure or an explanation, you start to spiral and speculate on what you did wrong and if you are a bad person. I vowed never to do that to anyone. I’ve moved on but it still sits there in the back of my mind.
Karen, I cannot tell you how much of your comment resonates with me. It mirrors mine in a lot of ways. I too asked her to talk to me and she (politely) refused. I’m so glad to hear I’m not the only that started down that spiral of “Am I a bad person”? Because I was so ashamed of myself! And finally, like you, the whole experience taught me to take a fresh pair of eyes to all my interactions with friends, to see if I could have been kinder. One thing for sure: I will NEVER EVER do what was done to me. Thanks so much for sharing your story, Karen! I’m sure many ppl can relate to it!
I had a really good friend in law school and we both ended up in the same city a couple of years after graduation. I tried to keep in contact and we texted often about kids work etc but met up in person only once or twice over the next 5 years. Then she ghosted me. No clue why. I try to remind myself it’s her, not me. But it’s tough.
It can be so tough in those situations. I’m sorry you went through that. Hopefully, you have surrounded yourself with people who stick around! Especially if you’re a practicing lawyer–we need friends!!
I love your recipes and your insights.
You are authentic, interesting and funny.
I appreciate that you share yourself so openly with us and inspired by your honesty and vulnerability.
Thank you
Rivkah, thank you so much for your comment. I’m so glad you enjoy both my recipes and my stories! I’m inspired by so many of you everyday, so the feeling is quite mutual. <3