Photo by Mike Von
“I was rooting for you!” - Tyra Banks
Breakups suck. Friendship breakups suck more.
Why? Because we’re lulled into a false sense of security since there’s no s-e-x involved and —in theory— things should be less complicated. Emphasis on should.
In my case, although there was no sex involved, we did run a company together, so that added a few extra layers to the equation.
My friendship breakup was only public when I made it public, fortunately, so it was at a point in time when I was ready to share. I recognize that others don’t always get that option.
It happened. No, I didn’t expect it. But here’s what I learned.
……………..
What I learned about myself post-friendship breakup
One person can’t be everything to you
As an introvert with social anxiety finding someone I could work with, travel with, eat €50 worth of Chinese food with, have a dance party with and share clothes with felt like I’d hit the jackpot!
I didn’t invest in other relationships as much as I could have, and most def should have. I figured since having a small circle has always been my MO, why not accept it, right? Wrong.
Amateur mistake: putting all your eggs in one proverbial basket.
I wasn’t prioritizing based on reciprocity
I give a lot to the people I love, and friends are no different. That said, I was giving more than I was receiving at several points in the friendship, and blowing off other possible connections. For example, allowing a fight with my friend to dominate the conversation while on holiday with my husband? When all he wants is to feed me vegan pancakes, make me smile, take photos and drink beer in beautiful places. He gives equally. He shows up.
That is a situation where I should’ve prioritized based on what the other person was giving, not the energy I had invested in them.
I took on a role that I didn’t ask for / wasn’t asked to do
I’m not maternal, let me just say that. I’m also an only child, so I’m not naturally a “let’s be sisters and braid each other’s hair” type of person. And yet, I found myself feeling like a maternal-sister-esque type of protective bond with my friend.
She didn’t ask for that. I didn’t ask for that either.
When you see your friend making choices you know will hurt them down the line, you have a crucial decision to make:
You can say nothing, and let them live their lives as capable adults.
You can express your opinion, and leave it alone.
You can express your concerns, try to guide them in the “right” direction, worry about them, and get so invested that you take on the situation as if it were you feeling what they’re feeling and wrap yourself in the saga that is their life.
Speaking from experience: don’t do the third one. At the end of the day, just like parents can’t shield their kids, and sisters can’t “make” their littles do anything, neither can friends. Let ‘em learn, and trust them. Be there if they need you. Try your best not to say “I told you so”. That’s it. That’s the secret formula.
I shrunk myself. I shouldn’t have.
Now that I’m not friends with this person I realize that, at least for the latter half of our friendship, I was trying to swim against the current while wearing a weighted vest.
Currently, I feel light af. Like Muhammad Ali in peak condition after having spent months training in the mountains with low oxygen… (read his bio, it’s magnificent)
When you’re an introvert with social anxiety, and a bit of RBF—okay a lot—and the person standing next to you is bright, and amicable and bubbly and likable, it makes people compare you two. It just happens: you unknowingly take on an image that people project onto you.
She’s the nice one, you’re the serious one.
She’s likable, you’re the hard egg to crack.
She’s the face, you’re behind the scenes.
People who don’t know me, placed my personality in a box that they created based on an extremely limited picture, and side-by-side comparison / assumption of my friend and I.
I don’t know when it happened, but I shrunk to fit into that box.
It became a prison.
I found myself passing up opportunities to be front and center because I’m not a “face” I’m a “behind-the-scenes” type.
I’m unapproachable. #NoNewFriends .
There were way too many, “I can’t” and “I shouldn’t” moments popping up in my friendship and work relationship for my liking.
There’s nothing like cutting ties with someone to make you realize how capable you are of standing on your own.
I was in a semi-public duo for six years. We were like peanut butter & jelly, ham & cheese, Bonnie and Clyde. It’s completely rational to think— will people still want to watch The Walking Dead without Rick Grimes, and only with Michonne?
Michonne is a bad ass bitch, so of course they will, but I digress.
More than anything, I feel empowered again. I don’t feel like I’m carrying the weight of another person (whether or not they asked or I wanted to) because I care so much for them. I don’t feel like I need to hide, or give explanations about my personality. I am not being compared to anyone. It’s dope.
Will we ever be friends again? Probably not. Once you see how someone really feels about you, there’s very little they can do to fill that enormous rift between the two of you. I don’t even know if I’d want to go back to that friendship at this point.
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I’m not here to give anyone advice on how to handle a friendship breakup because it’s such a deeply personal and unique experience. I cried for a while. And by a while, I mean off and on for 3 months. Then I entered into a state of rage and indignation. Then I got sad again. Then I prayed a lot. I leaned on my friends for support. I picked up the pieces as best as I could. I did not however, share angsty posts on social media, nor did I drunk dial the person or send passive aggressive texts, so I guess I learned something between college and turning thirty. lol. lbvs.
I’m at a point now of gratitude. I’m grateful for the friendship, grateful for the hurt and even more grateful for the lessons learned.
I once read that people won’t feel compelled to move until their current situation is uncomfortable enough to bother them… to jolt them out of complacency. Well, this was the slap on the ass I needed to get up from the table that no longer served me.
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The best way I can describe it is running uphill, full-steam, thinking it’s the best it’s going to get. Then you realize that your shoes are weighted. You change your shoes and try the same run again, and you’re flying, yo! Do you put the weighted shoes back on just cause you know you can still run with them? Or do you run as fast as you can, uninhibited and get off that damn hill to see what lies on the other side?
