blah blah blah
I told myself I would drop in, but only briefly – haven’t even checked my buddy list.
I told myself I wouldn’t update, that I have nothing to say here.
(I’m writing, but they are different words for different spaces. A project, if you will.)
BUT I ended up poking around.
AND something came to mind.
(Truth be told, it’s been floating around the edges and just became a fully-fledged thought.)
Relationships, both platonic and romantic, have never been the easiest for me. Some of the reasons for this are obvious (at least now, in hindsight) and some are still a mystery. Some of the blame lies with me. Some of it belongs to the people who have let me down. Most often it is some combination of the two.
I could go down the whole rabbit hole of perception. How I enjoy who I am, the self I perceive, but fear others perceive me differently, and that whatever they perceive falls short. I’m also aware that, if this is the case, it’s possibly because I’m stingy with what I reveal of myself.
While all of that is true, it’s not completely pertinent to my point. My point is that over the last couple of decades, I’ve developed a habit of cutting and running at even the slightest hint of someone growing bored/annoyed/frustrated with me. Better to be the ditcher than the ditchee. (It’s an absolute fucking miracle that I’m still married with this mindset.)
This week I learned that a friend, someone I haven’t spoken to in almost five years, is moving halfway across the country. And this knowledge hurts in a way that caught me off guard. Her proximity, I guess, felt like the last thing holding us together. Like I might run into her sometime, still having mutual friends, and we could resume the once very close friendship we shared.
Have I had every opportunity to reach out to her?
Of course.
Am I assuming she’ll be off the grid in Indiana, unable to text or email?
Of course not, but to reach out would be to put myself out there.
It’s not passive. It’s not organic. God forbid I show any human vulnerability.
It’s sad and stupid, a futile way of thinking.
But beyond my constant, crippling feelings of inadequacy, there exists the very real truth that we grew apart for a reason. I don’t think there’s space in my life for her right now. Our relationship belongs to a past version of myself. So perhaps the lesson is to appreciate the people who are in your life while they’re in your life, and not hold on too tightly.
Here’s to Kate, another of my ghosts – I’ll save a space for you in my heart. For the early morning coffees and book discussions. For our weekly cocktail nights, the parties, and being band wives together for a season. I know you don’t understand the direction my life has gone, but I can assure you, it’s for the best.
Sorry, I’m a flake.
2:53 p.m. - 2024-04-11