I’m a fairly solitary person. If you’ve met me, or if you’ve been reading along for awhile, you probably know that about me, already. I don’t trust easily. I abhor dishonesty. And while I understand intellectually that “little white lies” form the foundation of human relationships, it’s not a foundation I’ve ever felt comfortable standing on. Which is ironic, considering how much fiction I write for fun. I mean, I’m probably a world class liar, when you think about it. I’ve had hundreds of thousands of words of practice intentionally opposing “fact” in text.
The upshot is that I don’t let a lot of people into my life. I’ve never been much of a social butterfly. Crowds are not my thing. Neither are clothes, hair, make-up, or the vast majority of pop culture. Fleeting adolescent and early adult attempts at social conformity were catastrophic at worst and excruciating at best. I’m a lot better at just being me. Especially now that I’m old enough to present myself as-is, and without apology. It’s not that I don’t worry, ever, about what people think of me. I’ll probably always do that. I just don’t feel obligated to change myself to suit them. And it’s not that I don’t cherish my friends. I do! So much! I just don’t count them by the dozens, you know? Never have.
Anyway, several months ago, one of the few people I let into my life disappeared. Not via death, illness or alien abduction. Nothing like that. A brief phone message was left. A return call was ignored. And then another. The digital Christmas card bounced back. The Facebook account deactivated. Stuff like that. Little things. Barely noticeable, on their own. But cumulatively, they amount to a closed door. And when it occurs without explanation, at the end of a decades-long friendship and during a major family crisis…. Well, it feels like an act of dishonesty. A lie by omission: You’re not who I thought you were.
You know?
My husband has been down with a respiratory virus all week. My kids have the sniffles and my house is in chaos. There are drifts of books on all elevated surfaces and crumbs on all surfaces below. It’s grey outside again. Snowing. I have three days to make interesting – in 1200 words or less – an incredibly dry topic for school. And one day to submit final edits on my fiction short for the journal. On top of the regular week-end to-do’s, and my kids’ social calendars, gifts to buy, items to return, goods to restock and life to keep living. So much swirling around in my head, I don’t have time to think about what could have been, or where I might have misunderstood.
The door has been closed for about a year. I think I’ve knocked three times, in that while. It’s enough.
Good bye, old friend.
Perhaps her withdrawal has everything to do with her & absolutely nothing to do with you. Most everybody, I suspect, has had this unexplainable experience. And, from what this reader has gleaned from your writing, the ball most assuredly rests in her court…
You’re probably right, Lindy Lee. I’ve certainly withdrawn from groups of friends over time, due to stuff going on in my own life, and though I’ve always given an explanation when I’ve turned my back to someone, withdrawal is a more gradual thing. Like drifting, you know? Hopefully that’s all it was. Hopefully we’ll drift past each other again, one day.
I hope you don’t mind me to tell you that I really feel identified with your auto description. Also a Steppenwolf, I am addicted to loneliness, addiction I have to fight back constantly in behalf of my beloved family and very few dear friends.
I also share that same circumstance with you: one of my closest friends closed the door at me, four or five years ago, never letting me know the reason. I stopped knocking to his door a long time ago but, I am not uncomfortable with saying that if he ever knocks at mine, I will rush to open my door without any resentment or remorse.
No, of course I don’t mind. Sometimes I forget that I need people. More often, I forget they need me, which makes it hard to know it’s not my fault when someone fades from my life. And, yes, like you, if the door opens again, I’ll be there. No resentment. No remorse. Just gratitude. :-)
So difficult, the not-knowing. As hard as it is, I would rather have done something and not know it, than to find out later that they had something life-changingly awful happen to them and that’s why they were out of touch.
I think all we can do is to follow the “do unto others” rule and pray.
I agree with you, Neeks. I would rather find out later that I’d done something to upset her, than that something upsetting has happened to her. I’ve gone to ground to heal, before, and when I was ready, I did appreciate the distance my family gave me to heal. I hope it’s not that, though. So much.
Understand, and praying for you all. Much love!
Oh, Desi. This post is perfect. I’ve never had huge social circles either. I used to get jealous of those classmates or siblings who seemed to have an unlimited number of friends to hang out with at any given moment. Then I realized they can’t possibly be best, life-long, attentive friends with so many people. Not too long ago I had a similar “breaking up” with one of my few friends and it felt like a loss for a while. With such a small group of trusted companions, losing one felt like a big blow. At the end of the day I’m realizing I don’t get to be the boss of how someone acts, what type of friend they choose to be (good or bad). I can be me and hope that things work out, be at peace if they don’t.
Thanks, Tori. I think we’re in the same place, on this one. Ten years ago, losing a friend would have had me awake at nights worry about what I could’ve done to upset her so much. Life has taught me that (a) whatever has happened with her may have absolutely nothing to do with me (I’m not the centre of the universe – who knew?!) and (b) there is value in respecting myself, all the time, no matter what. Hard lessons, but good ones :-)
As for ‘closing doors’ one does what one feels they have to do. Though for myself, there are a couple doors I won’t close. even if that were the best thing to do. There is East, there is Here and there is West, by that I mean, am not entirely certain, again for myself, closing is a choice but rather a direction. I prefer to carry on with the door open. I would be afraid that a closed door would be misunderstood. As much as I hate to feel misunderstood and also hate to misunderstanding. And I have closed the door on myself far to many times. Am solitary as well, no question about that, though, no longer do I beat myself up. Actually that is good asset to have. It allows a creative persona to be introspective enabling study of almost anything of fancy. This post was an introspective study wasn’t it? Solitaire is not a game for wusps.
Yup, I was waxing introspective :-) I have closed doors, in the past, on people who were destructive in physical and emotional ways. In this case, I realized the door was closed and chose to walk away from it. It might open again, one day. Who knows? It would be interesting to study whether creative people like solitude or whether solitude supports the development of creativity. I remember reading Atwood’s “Negotiating With the Dead”, in which she mentioned that all the artists she knows had a lot of solitude as children….. It does make for richer, deeper stories. And probably music and material arts, too. :-)
Deeper stories, deeper tones….
You sound a lot like me. Over the years I’ve found that old friends and I don’t have that much in common anymore, it seems like we’ve grown our separate ways. I don’t know. It’s like I’ve changed and they didn’t. Honestly I think I scare people with my new self and others just don’t know what to think of me. I too am honest, too honest sometimes and blunt and I think I’ve thrown a few people off when I was just trying to help.
ahhh…such is life, I guess. Your post really hits home.
BTW…I really like your writing. The flow is perfect and you have just the right touch….thanks for that.
That could be it for me, too. I’m quite a different person than I was ten years ago, or even five years ago, really. I value time too much to waste it – mine or anyone else’s – and I’m also more expressive than I was before. Less afraid :-) I thought it was just the gift of age, but maybe that’s not the case for everyone. Thank you for your kindness. :-)
No wise words here, just: I’m sorry that happened. And it doesn’t matter why, it still hurts.
I’m sorry that it happened, too. Working on not stressing about things I can’t change, though. Lessons from grad school… ;-)
At about the 5-month mark following my dance with death, I became aware even through the illness-induced brain fog that one of my oldest friends was ducking me. I, too, have no explanation, except for my horrifying illness. She remains absent.
Terribly painful during a time when the world is already upside down…. Letting go has helped. I hope that letting go has helped you, too. Doesn’t mean it isn’t sad, huh?
Your first two paragraphs could have described me, except for writing fiction. I’m terrible at that.
It is sad, for sure. Walking away doesn’t mean I don’t miss her. :-) I’d like to believe the state of my life right then was too much for her, so she made herself peripheral. As for why she chose to disappear? I don’t want to guess about that. All things happen for a reason, and ‘for now’ might not mean ‘forever’.
What you said. All of it. This makes me want to be sure that I, myself, am as direct as possible if I ever am in the other shoes…. Best to you…
And to you. :-)
How strange. i wonder what happened. c
I suspect it has something to do with the crisis my family was going through. It’s hard to be helpless when bad things are happening, maybe too hard for her. Who knows, though, right?
It is sad to lose a friend. But who k wid why these things happen?
True that. And I, for one, have no idea why these things happen. The older I get the more I confirm that people are both quite wonderful and profoundly weird.
Awe…And you’re sure that nothing serious has happened? No nervous breakdown? No exertion of control by a passive-aggressive spouse? Could it be jealousy? I’m so sorry. I have two “best friends,” who have been dear to me for years (more than half a lifetime), and I would be devastated to be suddenly shut out by one of them.
No, I’m not sure nothing serious has happened, and it worries me. There is some overlap in our circles of friends, though, and I do trust that someone would tell me if something were terribly wrong. I haven’t locked the door. I’m just not going to bother knocking on it, anymore.
Yikes-hope all returns to normal soon!
Thanks, Angie. I’m declaring tomorrow Official Crap Clearing Day. I’ll feel better when my house is back under control.
Yes, I know this. Sometimes I’ve been the closer, others the closee. You’re right, though. It is easier this way.
I’m not sure easier equals better, but what else can I do? I’ve closed doors before, though never without explanation. Which is perhaps another reason I tend to be solitary :-)