"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 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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