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"Some people aren't loyal to you, they are loyal to their need of you. Once their need changes, so does their loyalty." — Unknown
What a blow to realize that a long-time best friend was never really a best friend. The sacrilege of taking something personal, that you tell a best friend, a sister, would be in confidence and loving understanding, would become fodder for her to turn against me in the most wounding way. Suddenly, all her leaning became a loss; a friendship where I should have done something about the toxicity long ago, should have known, and yet, I continued to let her lean, heavily, on me for years before she finally realized that she could no longer use me. It was toxic for months until I tried to explain how much I had cared for her and had stood up for her and had come to realize that someone else had been allowed to sow doubt and yet I had, in total trust, not believed what I had been told. It should have been a travesty, but I had weighed it for months before I realized it simply could not have been true and I dealt with it alone in order not to hurt her. Decades later, I shared my very soul and told her what had been told me and how I had suffered for a time while I dealt with weighing the truth of the gossip and come to the conclusion that it had not been true. Decades later, baring my soul, meant to show her how much I cared for her, became a reason to open wounds with another friend who had confirmed what her husband had told me, and had confirmed it without even knowing anything about it. Of course, the man who told me died years ago and is not here to defend me. But her vehemence turned against me and open old wounds that could not ever be healed. She broke the pact of friendship that friendships are built on. An immediate break totally ended any chance of ever retrieving a relationship that had been decades of closeness. As I moved away from her to break the toxicity the friendship had become for me, she reacting in great vehemence and broke a sacred trust between friends. I refused to defend myself. I still refuse to defend myself. Confusing? Imagine the open wounds that sacrilege caused in three lives, never mind that our children called each other cousins and each called us their aunty. I am sure loss and betrayal resides in both of us, yet, over a year down the road of life. The friendship/sisterhood is slow to dissolve, but is slowly losing its importance in my life as I realize what a burden I had allowed her to be in my life.
Over the decades we supported and encouraged each other through everything from marriage break-ups, illnesses, crazy antics, sins, and assuredly, savings. It was the kind of friendship that is a true sisterhood, or so I convinced myself. But, somewhere, over the last few years, it had become so hard to bear her burdens. It was three to ten times a day of her needing help, needing support, needing help finding her answers. But, as it went, she did not want the responsibility of her own choices so she would choose someone else’s, usually mine, and not take the counsel and would make her own decision in the end, or blamed the others for their counsel if it did not work. I was her excuse. And time and time again, she came with the same problems and nearly sucked the life out of me. It became so danged clear once she was not in my life any more. I had allowed hr to manipulate me and I was waning with the responsibility of helping her. I had blurred my own boundaries.
One of our basic human needs is to have a “belonging”. Sometimes, that belonging becomes co-dependent. I wanted her to do well, to lose her nightmares, and to make better decisions. I see now, that it never happened. Her dependence was transferred from a man to me. I let it bevome more and more toxic. And, finally, my ego/soul demanded she lean less and stand on her own. The moment I withdrew my counsel, she began to, as a client would, become angry but use the reason for her anger to be something totally different from the reality[CD1] and from my reality. Only when it ended did I realize what a relief it was. The letting go was sudden. I was hurt she shared a deep, soul deep, confidence. She wanted to end our friendship, bottom line, and anything would have done that for her, except she decided to hurt as many as she could on her way out. Time came for healing, and actually, the healing began the moment I knew of her betrayal. Here I was, turning 75 years old and dealing with a new kind of abandonment. This was not a junior high kind of drama. This was huge; the end of nearly a lifelong deep friendship. One that neither of us would have ever believed would happen. I let her walk away with all her misunderstandings in tow. She has her own ideas about what happened. I have mine. I will keep mine since I know mine to be true.
There was a huge void left, that I refuse to fill until I am healed, totally, from being someone who would drop their boundaries so completely. Yes, there are times I miss the easy comradeship of earlier times. Yes, I do become nostalgic at times. Yes, I miss sharing times together. Yes, I miss what felt like a truly meaningful relationship that would last forever. I am growing in ways that her tug and pull and neediness would have kept me from growing in. It certainly is not doom and gloom, by any means. I feel empowered. I did not stand my ground and continually obsess how to make things right. They never were, in the end years, and never would have been. All I do is acknowledge that it was, and acknowledge how grateful I am for the good times and for her letting go.
There are flowers at the end of a storm. Indeed.
©Carol Desjarlais 7.24.22
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