Last week, a long-time friend stopped talking to me.
Friday, 8 April 2016 10:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
carose59If I Am Indeed Different, Who Am I Different From?*
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I could explain why—at least, I could tell you what she told me. I'm assuming that from her point of view it's true. My point of view doesn't matter. So let's not bother with that.
After I got her email telling me she would no longer speak or correspond with me, my first thought was that I was going to tell Diane I had not set this bridge on fire. Diane and I had discussed how there was something I really needed to talk to my friend about, and I had done what Diane told me to do. And my friend hung up on me, then responded to my email by telling me, among other non-responsive things, that I need to see a psychologist. Yes, she knows I see Diane. I cannot explain this. Also, I need drugs.
Anyway, since then some things have happened that have led me to understand that the bridge didn't catch fire, it crumbled under its own weight.
I've been feeling like a burden for some time now. I've been pretty sure that we were talking too often, and that my friend was talking to me out of pity because of Pat being dead and all. I couldn't figure out what to do about this, how to walk our relationship back some so that it would keep functioning—and I knew it wasn't functioning. I knew she was bored with me, either because our interests have drifted too far apart or because I have stopped being someone she enjoys. I'm even more sure of this now.
I spent Sunday, the day we used to talk, feeling alternately like crying and so relieved I was giggling. I knew I had been feeling bad—dull, stressed out about trying to be interesting. I wrote about it just last month. But I didn't know how bad it was until I knew I didn't have to feel that way anymore.
There have also been things I've done lately, movies I've watched, and TV shows, where normally I'd make a mental note to mention them to my friend. I'm still doing that—it's an old habit—but now it's followed with two thoughts. First is, "Oh, right, no need," then, "Even if she was speaking to me, she wouldn't be interested."
On some level this is sad. On some level, I'm sad. I miss my friend, but what I'm missing is who she used to be and who I used to be: two people who had stuff in common, who laughed a lot together. We aren't those people anymore.
*Aaron Raz Link
-:- -:- -:- -:-
I could explain why—at least, I could tell you what she told me. I'm assuming that from her point of view it's true. My point of view doesn't matter. So let's not bother with that.
After I got her email telling me she would no longer speak or correspond with me, my first thought was that I was going to tell Diane I had not set this bridge on fire. Diane and I had discussed how there was something I really needed to talk to my friend about, and I had done what Diane told me to do. And my friend hung up on me, then responded to my email by telling me, among other non-responsive things, that I need to see a psychologist. Yes, she knows I see Diane. I cannot explain this. Also, I need drugs.
Anyway, since then some things have happened that have led me to understand that the bridge didn't catch fire, it crumbled under its own weight.
I've been feeling like a burden for some time now. I've been pretty sure that we were talking too often, and that my friend was talking to me out of pity because of Pat being dead and all. I couldn't figure out what to do about this, how to walk our relationship back some so that it would keep functioning—and I knew it wasn't functioning. I knew she was bored with me, either because our interests have drifted too far apart or because I have stopped being someone she enjoys. I'm even more sure of this now.
I spent Sunday, the day we used to talk, feeling alternately like crying and so relieved I was giggling. I knew I had been feeling bad—dull, stressed out about trying to be interesting. I wrote about it just last month. But I didn't know how bad it was until I knew I didn't have to feel that way anymore.
There have also been things I've done lately, movies I've watched, and TV shows, where normally I'd make a mental note to mention them to my friend. I'm still doing that—it's an old habit—but now it's followed with two thoughts. First is, "Oh, right, no need," then, "Even if she was speaking to me, she wouldn't be interested."
On some level this is sad. On some level, I'm sad. I miss my friend, but what I'm missing is who she used to be and who I used to be: two people who had stuff in common, who laughed a lot together. We aren't those people anymore.
*Aaron Raz Link
Letting go of people who no longer "fit" in your life.
Date: Saturday, 9 April 2016 02:36 pm (UTC)