Thursday, November 17, 2011

16+ years goes bust...

Shh, don't worry this isn't about Hubby.

***the following post was written a year ago(roughly). I decided to sit on this post for a year, although this might seem odd, I wanted to make sure my anger and of course, grief didn't over shadow my good sense. As you may not be aware I'd edited and re-edited this post. I wanted to be level headed, which for me is often difficult! So in actuality, the relationship dissolved in April 2010. I waited a year to write the post and waited another year to post it. I'm now realizing I went WAY overboard. I, however, wanted to be sure I wasn't coming from a place of anger. My editing only removed inappropriate bitchiness. I could have easily posted this in April 2011, I guess I was being overly cautious...which no one really has ever accused me (yes, me) of...yet. :)




1 year ago...

I knew I'd eventually write about the demise of my relationship with my *former* bff but I didn't realize it would take over a year for me to analyze, re-think, chew on, re-hash, basically go over every fucking detail that lead up to the tragically undramatic ending of a 16+ year relationship.

The saddest part of the 'break up' is that our children had grown up together. I was there when her children were born. And although mine are old enough to understand that sometimes relationships don't work out, I kept the incidents that led up to the end, just between my Hubby and myself.
We're not one of those parents who shares our adult problems w/our kids.

We did explain to them that unfortunately sometimes, friendships, relationships (even w/family) don't work out...and that sometimes it's best to simply go your separate ways.

Sometimes that's the healthiest decision you can make for yourself .

I guess that's what I've learned this last year.
Regardless of what you do, sometimes it just doesn't work out, no matter how much you love that person.

Any anger I had been holding in, left me that last day I took her out to lunch, and we haven't spoken since.

As most of you know, I'm a 'tell it like it is' kinda girl. I believe in being kind in my approach, but if something is wrong, I'm not going to beat around the bush...I'm going to ask you straight out what is wrong.

If I feel some sort of underlying anger emanating from your pores every time I'm around, I'm going to ask you, 'what the fuck?' **of course I usually don't say those actual words but they are often my internal dialog***

So when I ask what's going on, and you come back with, ' I don't think I can be the kind of friend you want me to be'...there's not much more to say in my book.

There wasn't much to say after that.

I told her I didn't know what kind of friend she thought I needed, and that it made me sad, but that was pretty much it. I paid the bill, and went home.

***this next bit is for my other Lymies***

When someone (like me) has a chronic illness, losing friends (and unfortunately family) is part of the gig of being ill.

Just happens. For whatever reason people can't/don't know how to handle someone who is ill 24/7.

This doesn't just happen to the chronically ill either. When my father was dying and I needed my friends around me, there were a handful of friends that couldn't be there...and that's when you unfortunately discover who your *real* friends are.

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Ok, back to the drama...

With that being said, there is very little I ask of my friends. I have an incredibly supportive family and Hubby, and really other than being there and being a friend, I'm pretty low maintenance(at least this is what I've been told).
To be honest, I'm the friend, most of my friends come to, for a shoulder, advice, a cocktail and a bitch session.

And I guess that's where it hurts.
I trust very few with 100% of me, my life, my feelings, worries, life troubles, etc.. as a matter of fact, other than my Hubby, no one knew me as well as she did, I was closer to her than my own sister.
She was my sister in every sense of the word.

So my friends, as you can imagine, that betrayal (and it really was one I found out later) really cut deeply...and it took a year for me to stitch myself up, heal and move on.