May 2005

My friend broke up with me. I got a letter in the mail. She could no longer invest in our relationship. I phoned her. Let’s talk about what happened, we’re friends. She said it was not a good time to talk. Please don’t let too much time pass before we connect, our friendship is important.

Days came and went. Nothing.

I started thinking about all the friends I have made over the years. I realize friends offer me their own point of view on life.

Their perspective adds a layer of insight that on my own I cannot witness. I value and seek out their advice on territory that alone I cannot navigate. I feel safe and connected by the kinship that binds us together.

I don’t expect any one friend to be all things to me, nor I to them. The value is in the diversity. I tell my children that we have friends for every reason and season. I have a gardening friend, a childhood friend, a former mother in-law friend, a work friend, and a ski friend. I am independent and require a lot of time to simply “be.” The friendships I sustain don’t receive large doses of maintenance. They are nurturing when we connect and don’t seem to wither on the vine when they are not watered… from my point of view.

Is this normal? How do people keep their friendships alive? I know of two women who go out to lunch once a week. They’ve been lunching for ten years. One of the women is tired of the grind, but doesn’t know how to tell her friend. Is it better to continue doing something that no longer serves, simply because it has become a tradition, or is better to honor yourself and be honest with your friend? There will be loss, hurt, and maybe betrayal. It’s a steep price to pay for speaking your mind.

I have a college friend who calls me when she’s in town. It’s difficult to sustain this relationship because there has been a steady decline in trust and erratic behavior on her part. If I’m available, we’ll get together. I don’t go out of my way to change my schedule; it’s too much work for too little reward. Part of me feels like cutting the cord. A larger part of me thinks that in time this friendship can be saved. In the long run, this friendship will become stronger and more powerful. I know my friend is undergoing a personal transformation and I want to be there on the other end when she arrives. Smiling. Open arms. Welcome back. Until then, our friendship limps along, held together by an invisible, benevolent force.

When I reflect on the letter sent from my friend who broke up with me, I smile. There is a sense of pride that she had the courage to cut the cord. By telling me she can no longer invest in our friendship she is honoring herself. Our relationship no longer serves her and she is being honest with me about her truth. I won’t argue with her. I honor her request. I believe one of the greatest gifts you can give another person is the truth; to bare your soul and speak from the heart.

Holding a severed cord in my hand doesn’t feel good. For all the fortitude she has gained by her actions, I feel a loss. Gifts and trinkets she gave me for Christmas and birthdays take on new meaning. I remember when she gave me this…

I don’t allow too much time for sentiments or melancholy. I understand her actions because I too, am on a spiritual journey of discovery. My friend and I are on the same path. The process of reclaiming yourself can be brutal and harsh. Sometimes on the path to reclamation you don’t take prisoners. You have faith that the choices you are making are right for you, and continue on your journey…one lesson at a time.