Oh. Good morning… this is for you all. It’s interesting to see how the Lord has been moving in different ways to bring this topic to my attention, and the post I’m about to share was the last straw
It sort of struck me down.
Not because it is in particular the story of my life right now, but because I’m ashamed and frustrated that I could I identify so much.
— Except rather than feelings of things being unfair, or jealousy, or what have you as she talked about …the culprit in my story is that one little line… “It became tiring, emotionally draining, and in some ways absolutely distressing.”—
Not all of my relationships mind you… but it certainly was this way with a number of them and life in general. Unfortunately, I think it take it out on the whole of my community rather than confronting it with strength, wisdom, and grace.
So here it is… my apology and admission that I’ve been a terrible friend, simply because I have been too tired and too lazy to be better.
It’s heartfelt, even if it is coming from another woman’s perspective, and my hope is that it’s received graciously, and with understanding.
My day is already filling with peace, and I am left loving and appreciating each person in my life so much. Thank you for letting me apologize, and be real, and honest.
Post via: Good Women Project
Yesterday, my phone rang three times in the span of two minutes. I didn’t hear it since I had it on silent. But I’m an addict and check my phone every few minutes. So when I looked and saw that my best friend who abhors talking on the phone as much as I do called me three times and left a voicemail, I had to call her back.
Of course, I preface the whole conversation with, “This better be good.”
“I got bored,” she says. And that is why we’re friends.
We talked for about twenty minutes, which, for two women who’s relationship is primarily maintained through texts and the occasional Facebook post, is no small feat. We talked about coffee, her new teaching job, politics, the weather, and how I’m still single – – until her boyfriend finally arrived to pick her up from Starbucks. In less than twenty minutes, we were up-to-date on each others lives, said our goodbyes, and probably won’t speak for another few months.
But the conversation left me feeling completely at peace. I felt happy. I meant enough to someone to warrant a phone call, and unless the call is from a collections agency, that is enough to leave me with a smile on my face.
Truth be told, I’m actually horrid at maintaining friendships.
Most of the time, I let the phone ring without the intention of returning the call. I ignore the texts, “don’t see” the Facebook posts, or am “too busy” to make plans. Most of the time, I’m quite frankly a terrible friend. Most of the time, I’m embarrassingly selfish and undeserving. Most of the time, I don’t pick up the phone to make the effort. And I’m the one who’s lost something because of it.
This morning, my sister came into my room and said I needed to drop her off at her friend’s house in a few minutes. I was reading and not all that excited to have to put on real clothes and venture out of the house. “Why?” I asked testily.
“Because she’s crying on the phone and I need to make sure she’s okay.”
Cue me feeling cold and heartless. I drove her over, and on the way asked why her friend was upset. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I’m going over to find out.”
I can remember the days when I would have done that.
I would have without hesitation jumped in my car, stopped by the store for tissues and a fashion magazine, and rushed to my friend’s side, demanding she get everything off her chest. I would let her rant, cry, yell, curse, or just sit in silence. I would be anything and everything she needed me to be, because that’s what friends do.
Somewhere along the way, I stopped being that kind of friend.
It became tiring, emotionally draining, and in some ways absolutely distressing. Part of this was because I had developed friendships with people who didn’t care about me as much as they cared about what I could give them. The other part was because I had become a sort of petulant child who didn’t get what she wanted. Life wasn’t going the way I wanted it to, so I retreated.
The friends I had, the ones who were going out and living the life they wanted, were shining examples of how I was a failure. They had everything I wanted, so cutting myself off was some sort of ridiculous, immature form of poetic justice. If I couldn’t have what they had, they couldn’t have me. If I couldn’t have the education, the career, the marriage and kids, the success that my friends had found, I didn’t want any part of it.
There is no possible apology that could undo the unfair, jealous thoughts I allowed to run rampant in my mind during those couple years between my final year of college and the end of my first year of grad school. Emotionally, I was a mess. I’m lucky I didn’t run into the far reaches of the Olympic rainforest and become a sick combination of a hermit and cat lady. I was so lost.
I had made the mistake of cutting off contact with the only people who would be able to talk me down from my flights of insanity.
One thing I always tell my sisters is that investing in friendships is essential to being a woman. I say that from special place in my heart, because I’ve lived through the darkness of not having that close female friend you can call when the world seems to be closing in.
I’ve been in the place where you’re sitting on your bed, tears in your eyes and a hole in your soul and not having someone to turn to.
Someone who won’t judge you. Someone who will love you even when you aren’t all that sure you love yourself.
Women have a terrible habit of looking at other women as competition. We see them as interlopers first and friends second to last. They can sweep in and take everything we’ve worked hard for: our job, our man, even our other friends. A successful woman is a monument to our own inadequacies. Women see other women as the enemy, and nothing takes the joy out of life more than living it as if we’re constantly preparing for war.
What we don’t see is that if you are feeling this way, there are thousands of other women suffering under the same misguided, self-perpetuated delusion.
We’ve created walls to keep out the only thing that can understand what it means to be a woman in the less-than-woman-friendly society we have erected for ourselves: other women.
We should be each others greatest allies and closest confidantes. We should be there for each other, ready with chocolate and a listening ear when times are tough, or a bottle of champagne or shopping spree when life is good. We should share in each other’s success, not become envious that they aren’t our own. We should find value in friendships and the love and support they provide, rather than seeing them as stumbling blocks on our way to the top.
We shouldn’t try to do it all on our own because of some ridiculous sense of independence. There is nothing wrong with admitting that sometimes live is better lived and tragedy is better dealt with when you have a caring friend to walk through it with you.
Every time I walked away from a friend, I’ve lost a piece of my heart. Every time I was selfish, unkind, less than compassionate, and petulant, I hurt not only myself, but the unsuspecting targets of my dissatisfaction. Every time I put myself first, I was blatantly disregarding God’s command to love our neighbor. And I’m sorry. I’m truly, deeply sorry.
Maybe with God’s grace and forgiveness, and my friends unexpected patience, I can find my way back.
Perhaps it starts with returning a phone call.