Dear BFF,
I don’t know how to say this without sounding like an asshole: You’re bad for my health, my life has been better without you, and I’m not ready to hang out.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be.
That’s where I’m at right now. Not that you bothered to ask.
I realized that part of loving myself was letting go of you.
The stress and anxiety from engaging with you yesterday overheated my body from the inside out. I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being lied to, so I started to pull away and take care of myself. There was always a part of me that felt like you hated seeing me do well.
I spent years ignoring my gut and overlooking our toxic patterns. The shittier you treated me, the more determined I was to be a good friend. The more you took, the more I continued to give. I showed up consistently. And my actions matched my words. But you were too busy when I needed a friend to ask me how I was doing.
Then, I got the strangest feeling from you when my dad had his breakdown; when the cops showed up at our house, the rumors about all the commotion interested you more than the well-being of my family and me. You even asked if my dad had been violent. Are you kidding me? You’ve known my family for thirty years.
Thanks for the support.
Your negative energy made me wonder if saying yes would have made you feel better.
When I had to file a restraining order on a neighbor, not once did you ask me if I was okay. Or how my day went in court. Instead, I rushed out of the house to check on you and your baby boy. I knew how hard it was to be home with a newborn all day. Selfishly, snuggling with my best friend’s baby boy relieved my pain. I was happy to be your relief. It was a beautiful distraction from what was happening in my life. I was so busy dropping everything to be there for you that I didn’t realize how much I could have used a friend then.
Remember when we swapped cars so I could go camping with my family? I was so grateful. I made sure to wash your car as soon as we got home. I wiped down every speck of dirt inside and out. I vacuumed it and even put that foamy stuff on the tires to make them shine. It felt good to show my friend of thirty years my gratitude for lending me her car. It was one of the few times I asked you for something. You quickly dropped my car off that night and took your car home in a flash. I thought nothing of it until the following day. I was beyond baffled to find a massive crack in my windshield, still I didn’t want to make a big deal about it right away.
The truth is: it was a big deal.
I returned your car with a full tank of gas and in better condition than when you lent it to me — but there was a thirteen-inch crack down the middle of my windshield after you drove it to work for a week. The repair shop said since the damage was more extensive than twelve inches, I had to replace the whole windshield.
Why were you okay with shrugging it off and leaving me to repair it?
Maybe I let so many things go because we had been friends for so long. You got used to it. And you’re right; this wasn’t any different. What’s a little-broken glass between friends anyway?
Then, boom. It hit me.
I didn’t care what or how the crack happened. I was more concerned about why we weren’t talking honestly about something so obvious. I was afraid that admitting you were a shitty friend would make me a bad one. I’m tired of trying to fix the cracks in our friendship and you not taking responsibility for any of the damage.
I’m beginning to think we aren’t moving in the same direction.
Your baby girl is coming soon. Juggling two kids is unbelievably difficult. My heart breaks when I think about not being there. I want to want to be there for you. I’d be lying if I told you I would be for sure. I don’t trust myself to be that person in your corner anymore. I’m trying to stay in my lane and fight my demons. It’s one hell of a battle sometimes. I figured out why I was not ready to get together and pretend everything was fine. It’s not. I don’t know if we can repair our friendship. I’m exhausted from racking my brain for reasons why we should.
My heart is full of love for you. But logic tells me nothing is adding up, and you don’t give a shit.
I want you to give a shit. I’m with Chris Marchie on that one.
I have to stop resisting for my own damn good. I need to see what happens when I release you from my life.
I am hoping for the best — for you and me.
With Nothin’ But Love For You,
Your Tired and Codependent Friend
. . .
Addendum: I wrote this piece four years ago. And I’m still stunned at the level of (self) invalidation and codependency seeping through the page. A lot has happened in four years, and this friend and I are no longer friends. I can see why; I saw it four years ago but kept returning for more mistreatment. A toxic pattern I am finally breaking free from.
. . .
Thank you for reading. I love you all. ❤
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This post was previously published on Open Letters To.
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