Month: October 2019

One Month

~ Carrie ~ 1 Comment

It has officially been one month since saying goodbye.

I still don’t feel like I’ve grieved fully, but I definitely experience little eruptions every now and then. I’ve been able to identify quite a few triggers, but unfortunately naming them doesn’t make them disappear. Among them:

  • Seeing my (ex?)friend’s family. We literally live down the street from her family, so I see their cars a few times a week. That used to make me happy. Now it just reminds me of the hurt I’m avoiding.
  • Seeing her interactions on social media. I unfollowed her and her family, so I don’t see pictures, but we still have mutual friends and I turned her on to a few of my favorite influencers. It still surprises me when her name pops up next to the likes.
  • Driving into the cities. The last few times we saw each other, we met up in the cities, not too far from my brother’s house. Every time I drive over that way, I’m reminded of the laughs we shared and the awkward moments we sat through together.
  • My parents’ church. Her family has attended the same church as my parents for 10 years. She, or her siblings or cousins, would occasionally show up. That’s not the biggest reason I started attending a different church, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a contributing factor.
  • Cancelled plans. This one’s pretty obvious and one of the hardest to avoid. She cancelled a lot of plans.
  • People saying “no.” Again, one of the hardest to avoid. While she cancelled a lot of plans, she said “no” to even more.
  • My cat. Hear me out. Her name rhymes with “meow,” and my dad regularly meows it to Charlie, our cat. He doesn’t know that we aren’t friends anymore, so he has no reason to stop. I’ve also done it so many times that I’m reminded of it every time I “meow” back at Charlie.
  • Up North. We’ve been trying to figure out our travel plans for next year and are considering a big family weekend up north with my brother’s family next summer. It has become one of my favorite places over the past few years and it was something we could bond over. Her favorite place was right across Lake Superior. She was engaged and married there. I was with her when she found out that her parents closed on a cabin up there. Through the years, it has been the subject of most of her social media posts. It’s a subtle one, but a big one.
  • Ironically, being sad. In the past, I would always text, call, or write her when I felt sad. That has obviously not been an option this past month, and honestly most of this year. But right now, she is the reason for my sadness. She is the cause and my body is still telling me that she’s the solution. For the first time in my adult life, I’m learning how to be sad alone.

Another thing I’ve realized this month is that I’ve transferred my fears to my other friendship. I kind of thought that saying goodbye to the unhealthy friendship would mean saying goodbye to all of the fears I had in that friendship. I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop. I was always waiting for the “I just can’t do this” text. I was always waiting for the “you’re just too much” text. I was always waiting for her to leave me behind. And I guess she did.

But now I find myself feeling more insecure in the most secure friendship I have ever had. Seriously, 20 years strong. Communication is becoming less frequent and more shallow. I am reminded every day, whether it be at church, work, or home that she is constantly reaching for more in every part of her life. It makes me feel like I need to do the same or she’ll forget about me. She’ll leave me behind. She’ll outgrow me. I now find myself waiting for the other shoe to drop with her. I’m waiting for her to tell me that I need to level up if I want her friendship. I’m waiting for her to tell me that she’s sick of seeing me struggle. Honestly, even though she’s told me otherwise, I’m waiting for her to imply that I’m weaker than her because I sought out therapy for my problems and she just figured things out on her own. I’m waiting for her to tell me to grow the fuck up.

This is such a messy thing to go through. I wish it could all just be contained and I could say goodbye to all of the unhealthy things without it threatening the healthy things.

I still haven’t told anyone what I’ve been going through.

And through it all, death has become a frequent topic of discussion at home. My dad’s 97 year old aunt recently moved closer and after visiting her, we’ve all been thinking about what we’re really aiming for. If we get to decide how to handle the final circumstances, what we all want. It’s a bittersweet topic, because, obviously, death can be pretty dark, but it’s also motivated us as a family to take advantage of where we are right now. 

So, you know, not much going on. Nothing too heavy to contemplate…at all times.

Ugh, life. Am I right?

Screenshot 2016-01-18 14.26.24

Final Goodbye

~ Carrie ~ 1 Comment

Because life constantly changes, and this goodbye doesn’t involve death, I can’t be sure that it’s final. But it sure feels that way now.

A few weeks ago, my best friend, let’s call her Ms. Fun, and I had made plans to go for a walk. It was still warm(ish), which you can never take for granted in Minnesota, and it was the night before her birthday, so I was throughly looking forward to it. I bought her my favorite devotional that she had admired while we were on our girls’ weekend up north and took the time to write her a really heartfelt note. I was feeling like a pretty fantastic friend.

We had never talked about a time–we know each other’s schedules pretty well and just said “after work.” I sent her a text a few hours before I left just to clarify exactly what time we’d be leaving. About an hour later she responded saying she’d forgotten and didn’t really want to go anymore.

I. Was. So. Hurt.

Honestly, my first thought (after fuck that) was that I didn’t think I’d forgive her in time to wish her a happy birthday the next day. I was so mad.

I had the house to myself that night, so I went for a walk with my dog and just let myself process this hurt. The weird thing was, the more I talked through it, the more I wanted to share my hurt with the friend I was supposed to be letting go of, let’s call her Ms. Feeling. That’s exactly what I would’ve done in the past and it was so hard to fight the urge. But the more I fought, the clearer it became that I wasn’t actually mad at Ms. Fun. I was mad at Ms. Feeling for all the years of cancelled and rejected plans. Knowing that letting go of Ms. Feeling was in my future, I felt triggered when Ms. Fun forgot and cancelled our plan.

I was crying through all of this, but I suddenly stopped and realized with such clarity what I needed to ask. For years, I’ve had this answer in my head in regard to my friendship with Ms. Feeling, but I could never pinpoint what the question was. I always knew and was looking for a way to help her tell me that she was no longer in a place to be a good friend to me.

So I sent off a blunt text simply asking if she was in a place where she could be a friend to me.

I knew what I wanted the answer to be, but I also knew what the answer would actually be. I felt a strange sense of relief, but I was also dreading her response. I did my best to distract myself the rest of the night, knowing a response most likely wouldn’t come until the morning.

I sure forgot about it! The next day was supposed to be our last day with only my nephew before his baby sister crashed our party, but we were surprised with the presence of his big sister who was home “sick.” She kept me busy! She had all kinds of ideas for us! Luckily I got a little break when I snuck away for a haircut. (I managed to wish Ms. Fun a happy birthday, too.)

And as usual, Ms. Feeling picked the most inopportune time to respond: just as I was getting out of my car before my appointment. I saw the first three words, “I’m sorry Carrie,” and didn’t let myself go any further until I was back in the car.

It was a long time coming and, honestly, probably should’ve happened months, if not years, ago, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. I let myself feel sad on the way home, but plastered a smile on before I walked back in to my favorite kids. The thing is, though, I never really let myself feel sad about it again.

It was really hard to relay the whole thing to my therapist. That was one thing I desperately wanted her to be wrong about. She told me how important it was to take an hour or two and let myself feel really, really sad. She said there should be ugly crying and smeared makeup and a runny nose. I should let go in every way I can, including unfollowing her on social media. And then there should be an endpoint and some self-soothing.

I told myself I didn’t do it that week because it was just so busy with a birthday party for one niece and baptism for the other. But it wasn’t so busy that I couldn’t have found an hour.

I had the same homework last week. I had a plan. And things deviated from the plan.

Once again, it was warm and there’s no way of knowing if we will get more warm days before May, so I asked Ms. Fun if she’d like to take advantage of the weather by going for a walk. (When will I learn?) She’d been home for 2 days after a trip and was leaving for another in a few more. Understandably, she said she really needed a relaxing night at home. But I wasn’t so understanding in the moment.

Once again, I felt triggered.

But this time I knew sharing with Ms. Feeling was no longer an option.

I was still with the kids I nanny and I remember not being able to verbally spell out a word for the kindergartner because every time I opened my mouth I thought the tears would start rolling.

I actually wrote out a pretty snarky response, just to get it out of my system, and then deleted it and put my phone away. Once again, I knew I wasn’t actually mad at Ms. Fun, but I didn’t know how to process this truly on my own. All the way home I thought about letting her in on my struggle and asking her to reconsider. But for some reason, I felt like it was really important for me to figure it out on my own.

I arrived to an empty garage, which gave me the idea of moving my “grieving night” up. I started to go for a walk with my dog and ended up sitting in the middle of our wide open field re-reading texts from Ms. Feeling and unfollowing her on social media and sobbing. I was proud of myself for following instructions and actually letting myself sit in the sadness.

And then I saw my dad. He had apparently come home and saw that I was home, but not in the house, so thought he’d come out and find me. Have you seen the movie Inside Out? I felt like Anger looks. I got up and sternly told him that I was walking alone and walked away.

And that was the end of that. So I still haven’t actually gone through the whole grieving process. There are lots of little triggers and, obviously, some big ones (people turning me down or cancelling). It’s kind of a strange feeling right now because, if I’m being super honest, I’m still hoping that she’ll have a change of heart. I know this is the new normal for the remainder of the year, but something inside of me is saying that things will change early next year. I know that sounds like wishful thinking, and I can admit that it totally is, but that’s where I’m at right now. That thinking doesn’t make me want to grieve and fully admit to myself that this is a final goodbye.

I feel like I’m not feeling sad enough and giving it enough attention, but I also feel like I’m giving it too much attention. Maybe I’m giving the wishful thinking too much attention and the realistic thinking not enough? Maybe I know just how final this really is and I don’t want to face it? I don’t know. It’s very confusing. And it’s a hard thing to navigate on my own.

One way or another, it is a final goodbye to an unhealthy relationship.

It’s time for me to figure out how to move on and find connection elsewhere.

Screenshot 2016-01-18 14.26.24