My best friend (in fact, the only real friend I have right now) just sent me this email:
Quote:
Dear ---,
Regarding the delay in my responding to you, I have needed some time to think about my response to your messages and to contemplate how our friendship has progressed to this current status.
I admit you are correct in your assertions about how I have been distancing myself from you. This hasn’t been a result of “replacing you” with other friendships/relationships, rather a result of feeling burnt out and frustrated in our friendship. For me, our friendship has been pretty stressful. Really since February we have vacillated between states of friendship that were calm/good/fun and dramatic/distressing/upsetting. I realize that you deal with your emotions differently than I do. Actually, I think we are polar opposites-you vent while I distance. I also feel like there is a lot of venting in our friendship-some deserved and some completely unnecessary. The problem for me is that I don’t feel like there is any end to it, only little breaks, and I am having a hard time working through it when I feel it happens all the time. It is like the more you release, the more I take on. I can’t take any more in. I see this when you bring up your concerns-I get argumentative, shut down, upset---difficult to talk to.
So where does this leave us? Truth is I do not feel I can be a good friend to you anymore. I have let things get to a point where I have no compassion and am short-tempered. Therefore, I feel it is best we do not communicate. I sincerely hope you can honor my specific request.
I do wish you the best and always will.
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I feel so heartbroken. I feel like I want to at least give the final requiem to this relationship and bring peace to what is clearly her distress over our friendship. I just feel...all over the place. Panicked. I don't know what to do. Most of all, I feel like, once again, I **** up everything good that happens to me. I really thought this one would be different. I have been getting so much better lately, I know that for a fact and feel it in my bones. The fact that I'm not having a complete and utter outright tantrum meltdown at this email, immediately responding to it with panic, is a miracle for me. I have felt so ****ING good about my trajectory lately--taking care of my basic needs, attending to my emotions properly, all of the baby steps I was too embarrassed to take before. But I still feel so ****ing heartbroken. Why does this always have to happen when things start to look up?
The heartbreak majorly comes from not being crazy anymore (or, well, in a long recovery from being crazy) and seeing that it's totally logical how this has happened, feeling the pain of that, feeling grated by the flippant and disrespectful nature of doing this in an email. If I were still in crazy mode I would just get pissed off, immediately write her back and flip out, etc. But I don't want to do that now. I just hurt. I feel in mourning. I ache for the moment when this is over. A major portion of me knows her well enough to know that this email was written while she's still upset, and it's almost like I need to wait it out. But I know, logically, I have to accept that it might never happen again and I'm going to have to figure out how to be happy without the person who I've felt closest to in forever. This is so much worse than being crazy. I almost wish I could find the logic in reacting in a crazy manner. At least that's familiar. And a big part of me believes that's what she's expecting me to do, and why she wrote this email.
****. You know, since being on testosterone (almost 5 years now), I haven't
really cried. You know, the gut-wrenching, sobbing crying. But as soon as I got this email it started. I kept my composure through the rest of the work day (though I'm pretty sure some people noticed my eyes well up with tears, no matter how much I tried to conceal it behind the strep throat I currently have), but now I'm just sitting in my office, sobbing. Alone. Always. I should have known better.
****.