Here is Where the Story Ends

Friday was a day of changes for me. I've had some time to think about those changes over this weekend in solitude as my family went away for the weekend to visit one of my husband's siblings.

When change is imposed upon me that I don't wish to have changed, I have a very difficult time accepting it. I fight it, even if in the end it is the best thing for me. My pride refuses to let me go easily into that dark night. But this time I made these changes myself. I finally did what I had told myself to do way back in January. I knew it was the best thing even then but couldn't seem to get myself together enough to stick it through. It's funny, though, how the smallest little thing just becomes that straw that breaks the camel's back.

I had a friend. I wanted to make it into the kind of friendship that is the kind that I have with a few other people in my life so I knew that having it again with this person was possible. I thought that if I stayed long enough and weathered enough that this person would realize that, and want what I wanted. Besides, I didn't want to let go. I needed that person as well.

I can't tell you how long I've known somewhere deep down that this person wasn't as invested in the relationship as I was. I kept seeing little signs of it, I'd feel hurt, but I always managed to tell myself that if I just hung in there a bit longer then things would begin to settle into a more comfortable place. What made it harder to place most of the blame upon the other person's shoulders was that I knew that my own motivations for maintaining the friendship weren't completely pure. I often struggled with trying to keep my instincts to control and force the boundaries of the relationship at bay. So if I was struggling then the other person was too, right? It was just enough to make me question my gut.

So what changed this Friday?

I went to a physical therapist's appointment on Friday morning about my dyspareunia. I've spoken of it a bit here and even that much can give anyone a glimpse into what sort of an issue this has been for me. So imagine how much more intimately my friend knew about how much it has! I wanted to share what I had learned -- I was excited and optimistic and had been thinking that perhaps I'd been premature in dismissing the therapist as useless. I tried to share this, even precipitating my remarks by giving consideration to keeping it generalities as opposed to specifics.

And this friend? Not one word of concern. Not one. I would have expected perhaps, "I'm happy for you," or "I hope this works for you." Even people that I know as acquaintances asked me politely about if I thought I was going to be helped and they didn't even understand exactly why I had needed to go. My boss had asked. Some coworkers. But this friend? Not a peep. It was as if I was talking to a wall.

Hurt, I terminated the conversation. I went to sit down in the living room and thought about it for a few minutes. It was then that all the times I had given this person encouragement and support came rearing up in my memory. I asked myself, was I really going to let this pass? Was I going to teach this person that I could be treated that way? If I made it clear that my feelings had been hurt then, as friends would, the consideration this person held for me might make itself known. A piece of me knew that it was a test of sorts, a gauntlet thrown down. I knew as I stood to go continue the conversation that what this friend did at that moment would make all the difference.

I expressed my hurt feelings and explained that I would have liked to have heard some concern or pleasure at what might be a turning point for me after so many years. And what did this person say?

"I'm tired of this. Really. Everytime I show up and we talk you have to have "the talk." So spare me, okay?" And this person terminated our conversation.

And that was that.

I was hurt to the point of feeling numb but not surprised. The choice was so simple that it wasn't even a choice any longer. This person was not my friend and it hadn't been my imagination, my gut had been right for months. I could have no more glaring evidence of that. I spent the next hour excising that person from my life and I wrote them a last email and sent it. I was still numb but it was as if I could finally breathe a little deeper. I had done it. I was proud of myself.

That was on Friday.

Looking back on it from a few day's perspective, I have to acknowledge to myself that I'd been clinging to a ship that had sunk long ago. It's hard to admit that there's a vast gulf between what I wanted that friendship to be and what that friendship actually was. Granted, it didn't start out one-sided; I pushed and each time I pushed I lost a little ground. I had a lot at the beginning but I always wanted more. I know this, so by no means am I ignorant of the part that I played in this disintegration.

Ha! How ironic that the only tangible gift this person ever gave me was an album by the Cure aptly entitled "Disintegration."

All I've received from this person so far has been posted in a public forum, a generic "Good luck in whatever you do, and we'll see you around." It is all that I will ever receive.

I know that, but I have to admit it hurts.


((Song: "Knowing Me, Knowing You" by Abba. Lyrics here:
http://www.guntheranderson.com/v/data/knowingm.htm))